#no mike tag he can go fuck himself

[emblazons]

It’s “realizing that Will’s struggle in S2 with being infected with a virus that spreads and will kill him quickly (but doctors don’t care) is a metaphor for how gay men were treated during the aids crisis” hours

—right alongside Mike (who comes from a family with a Reagan sign in their front yard + a mom who outwardly supported Margret Thatcher), who sat at his now confirmed gay best friend’s side the entire time he was sick and watched as people were willing to let him die because he was viewed as expendable……and now has an ongoing storyline where

1) his relationship with his girlfriend is falling apart because he doesn’t love her romantically

2) he’s staring longingly and pushing toward the freedom his gay best friend embodies for him, and

3) he cannot bring himself to tell anyone around him something because “what if they don’t like it” + dehumanize him for telling the secret truth he cannot bring himself to externalize, despite now knowing something that scares him about about himself:

(Bonus points for the fact that the first time we see Mike push Will and himself toward a girl is after he watches how people were willing to let his gay best friend (and him, by extension) die should they not confirm to expectations)

[the-acid-pear]

Why did my cooking dream get hijacked by my brain making a William Afton oc and au what was that about.

[murdrdocs]

I've been thinking non stop about Mike liking Abby's new daycare teacher but is too shy to do anything so Abby just casually mentions that her big brother has a crush on you and is doing weird things like checking his hair and only wearing the same pants two days in a row instead of four. So when u spill that Abby told u he doesn't know whether to be mad at her or not bc if ur wasn't for her he would have a date

I LOVEE THESE TYPES OF THINGS GN! READER

you’re sweet, patient, professional while managing to slip in some casualness to the conversations that you and mike have (short and cordial always) that make him feel like you’re more of an acquaintance and not just someone he indirectly pays.

you’re young, around his age he assumes, and he confirms his assumptions when he’s questioning abby.

“your, uh, new teacher,” he starts as he’s finishing up dinner (spaghetti again).

abby hums from behind him. “what about them?” mike turns to glance at his sister who sits on the counter, her feet thudding against the cheap cabinets with the way she kicks them.

he turns back to the stove, shrugging and scratching at his ear. “nothing i was just wondering about them. like … are they … cool?”

and mike is so glad that abby has always been the more talkative one out of the two of them because she’s immediately thrusting herself into an analysis of your quirks and how you really care about the children.

long story short, abby likes you just as much as mike does. even more, actually.

she’s always running to hug you when mike drops her off and picks her up, and he distantly wishes he could do the same. he thinks he’s playing it cool, sending you tight lipped smiles and waves that are a little too disjointed.

but abby is more perceptive than he thinks.

each time he tells himself he’s going to have an actual conversation with you. maybe mention the band tee you wear on a casual friday or ask about the song you were humming before he’d arrived. there’s intentions for him to get to know you and eventually ask you out.

but he backs out each time.

leaving abby to play matchmaker.

when mike comes in one thursday afternoon, hoodie soaked from the thunderstorm outside, he greets you and notices that your smile is a little more bashful than usual. abby is running around with her friends inside, playing an intense game of indoor freeze tag, and mike is trying to get her attention but you stop him.

“they can play for a while longer. i couldn’t let both of you go out in that storm.”

he looks out the window and notices that somehow, it’d gotten stronger.

“uh, do you want something hot to drink? hot chocolate? tea? coffee?” you sound shy, maybe, but mike can't figure out why.

he's just grateful for a chance to spend time alone with you.

“coffee would be great, actually.”

you and mike end up in the kitchen of the small cafeteria, each drinking your respective drinks in silence, until you speak.

“um, i hope i’m not overstepping.” mikes ears perk up because that’s never a good start. “but abby told me that you have a crush on me. is that true?”

fucking abby.

his ears redden immediately, head dropping as he considers how to play this. but before he can even decide, you’re speaking again.

“because if so, i just want to let you know that i feel the same.”

he lifts his head too quick, a little bit of his coffee spilling out of the loaned mug with the movement. he doesn’t care about that, though, at least not immediately. instead, he focuses on you. he searches your face for a joking smile, maybe a little bit of mischief in your eyes. but there’s nothing but honesty in them.

he takes the plunge.

“would you wanna do something … sometime?” not very descriptive but you smile at him anyway.

“i would love to.”

god bless abby.

[sundrop-writes]

if Mike fell asleep with you...

Word Count: 750

Horror Characters Masterlist

Warnings: this is mostly pure fluff - Mike and the reader are in an established relationship, the reader's gender is not described in any way (the main pronouns used are you/yours), Mike calls the reader angel, the reader takes on a caregiver role for Abby, mostly just short and fluffy. This is set before the main events of the movie, when Mike is working as a security guard at the mall.

A/N: So, I've seen so many people in the tags going 'just let him sleep!!! that man is so exhausted!!' and saying that he's too tired to fuck in the way that people are writing fanfics about him. And as much as I love super horny fics, I do thought this up, because I agree - the man should be allowed to sleep. This is largely inspired by that scene in Grey's Anatomy where Meredith walked in and Owen was asleep on Cristina's chest while she was reading a book (I think it was when she was reading through Mer's mom's diaries?) - anyway. I love that scene so much because it shows how easily he sleeps around her because he's so comfortable around her. And that's why it deeply inspired this. Let him sleep.

...

Mike was exhausted when he came in the door. 

He heaved out a sigh as he closed the door behind him, toeing off his shoes - pure, stiff tiredness radiating through his whole body in the worst way. 

You knew that sound anywhere. 

“Long day?” You inquired gently from your position on the couch, lightly craning your neck to look at him. 

He shuffled further into the house in an almost zombie-like fashion, only giving you a solitary grunt in response. 

You felt kind of bad that he had been stuck at work late when you had been lucky enough to have a morning shift and been treated to a relaxing evening with Abby. She was a relatively easy kid to take care of, and generally fun to be around. 

And after you had put her to bed, you laid out on the couch, relaxing and reading a novel that your friend had recommended. Generally, you were having a nice evening. And it seemed that Mike was not. 

As you kept an eye on Mike, you folded over the page of your book to mark it and put it on the coffee table for later. 

“Dinner’s on the counter.” You told him. “I made lasagna. I can heat it up for you if you want.” 

You hated that before he started dating you, all he knew was freezer burnt crap - but you were slowly showing him how to cook, and a world of vegetables that didn't come in a can. 

Mike took off his jacket and the heavy belt he had to wear for work (his large walkie talkie and his taser were in his locker at work, as mandated, but the thing was still damn uncomfortable) and he hung them both up. 

He didn’t respond to your queries about dinner as he walked around the couch. Instead of speaking, seeing you laying there so relaxed - the sight was all too inviting, and he eased himself to lay on top of you in a form of very natural intimacy before he grunted a few words into your neck. 

“Did Abby eat?” He asked softly as he laid on top of you. 

It was oddly comforting to have the bulk of his weight on top of you, especially as he melted against you, letting out a small moan as the tension melted out of his bones. He adjusted himself to get more comfortable and his face rested against the softness of your chest - you glanced down to see that his eyes were drifting closed. 

“She ate two platefuls, and had some peas.” You assured him. “Did her homework, had a bath, and she practiced her spelling words before she went to bed.” 

Mike grunted again - a more positive pitch to this one. He couldn't ask for anyone better than you. Sometimes he worried about her - all the time. But when Abby was with you, that worry lessened a lot. 

“You’re an angel.” He hummed against your chest. “I don’t-” He let out a gentle yawn. “I don’t know how I got so lucky with you.” 

“You look hot in a uniform and my job at the bookstore gets boring.” You replied, half-joking about the circumstances of how your relationship with Mike had formed. 

You reached out to him and began running your fingers through his hair, soothing him even further into the realm of sleep with the comforting touch. 

He let out another tired moan in reply - something that almost stretched into a rolling sound with the gentle pleasure of your hand in his hair. With the way his body was so slack against yours, his breathing even and quiet, you knew this was only leading one place. 

“You wanna go get ready for bed?” You asked gently. 

“In a minute.” He answered softly, barely parting his lips to get the words out. 

You glanced over to the table and reached out, picking your book back up as his breathing deepened and his body went even more slack. You were preparing to get comfortable for the next few hours. You weren’t all that tired yourself, and you still had a few chapters left to go. When you got to the next chapter, he began to snore lightly and you felt drool dripping down your neck - which didn’t bother you all that much. You found it cute, in fact. 

You were comforted by the fact that he relaxed enough around you to get such a good sleep. You knew that he needed it. 

...

A/N: also, this is my first time posting a fic completely from mobile by copy/pasting something from google docs on my phone. So hopefully the formatting isn't too messed up and hopefully this goes well! And I hope you guys enjoy this short fluffy fic 💖

[ataliagold]

Knocking Me Out With Those American Thighs

For @astrangersummer week 1 prompt 'short shorts'. Title from Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson (pre-relationship)

Rating: Teen (swearing)

W/C - 848

Tags: Post Season 4 Volume 2, Eddie Munson Lives, Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington, flirting, Steve Harrington wears short shorts, summer, pool party, sun bathing, water balloons, Steve Harrington's thighs, Eddie Munson is suffering

Summary: Steve sunbathes in the tiniest shorts Hawkins has ever seen. Eddie tries and fails to keep his cool.

___

Eddie was suffering.

Not just from the heat of the midday sun baking him alive, or from the way his hair was practically glued to his sweat-slick neck.

No, the worst of his suffering was caused by Steve Harrington’s thighs.

They were going to kill him.

Eddie couldn’t help it, he really couldn’t, he just had to keep glancing over at where the other boy was lying in the grass, skin bare except for the tiniest pair of shorts Eddie had ever seen. They barely covered the top half of his thighs for fuck’s sake, what was even the point in them…

The guy’s naked chest and torso had already done a number on Eddie. But when Steve had laid down, stretched out to sunbathe in his backyard, those already-skimpy shorts had ridden up even higher, revealing a slightly paler strip of skin stretched tight over lean muscle and Eddie had had to sit on his damn hands to stop himself from reaching out and just touching…

A water balloon smacked into the side of Eddie’s face, momentarily dragging his attention away from Steve’s hairy thighs.

Luckily for Dustin, who was standing with his hands on his hips nearby and rolling his eyes at Eddie, the balloon hadn’t burst. If it had, Eddie might’ve strangled the kid himself.

“Hey, we said no water balloons near us!” Robin grumbled, sitting up to glare at the kid.

“I called your name three times,” Dustin complained to Eddie. “Not my fault you were too busy staring at Steve.”

Eddie’s eyes darted sideways, sensing movement from Steve. The boy cracked open an eye to give Eddie a brief glance, then closed it again, the tiniest smirk spreading across his face.

“I was not, you little shrimp,” Eddie snapped. “Now what do you want?”

“Come throw the rings into the pool for me? Lucas and Mike keep grabbing them before I can reach them, and I want to try and dive for them.”

Eddie snorted. “What are you, a fucking dolphin?”

“Language,” Steve mumbled lazily, not opening his eyes.

“Apologies, my liege, I’ll try to keep my language appropriate around your little charges.”

“Thank you.”

Eddie stood, wincing a little as he reached up to touch his rapidly reddening shoulders. Unlike Steve, he wasn’t gifted with a natural golden glow to his skin. He was pasty, usually sheet-white.

And now, he was steadily burning to a crisp.

Grumbling under his breath, Eddie stole one last look at the prone Steve, let his eyes run over his form for as long as he thought he could get away with. He could wax poetry about his thighs, about his torso, about the moles dotting his chest and stomach like constellations…

“Eddie?”

Fuck.

“Yeah, Steve?” His response came out as almost a squeak.

“You’re burnt. Once you’re finished entertaining Dustin, come back and get some sunblock on, I’ll help with your shoulders.”

Eddie swallowed thickly. Because that meant Steve would have his hands on him, all sun-warm as he spread sunblock across Eddie’s sensitive skin…

Steve opened his eyes then, rolling over to face Eddie and propping his head up on his hand with his elbow bent.

“And then after that, you can do my back.”

He fucking winked.

Eddie backpeddled, nodding quickly then turning around and doing his best to not trip over his feet as he scrambled after Dustin.

“Dude, you’re the least subtle person I’ve ever seen,” Dustin whispered to him as they walked towards the pool.

“Shut up.”

Eddie threw the rings half-heartedly into the pool, Dustin diving for them in a…not so impressive display of athleticism, but he would emerge eventually and toss the colourful rings back at Eddie, the other kids watching on.

As it tended to do, Eddie’s attention drifted back to Steve.

He was up now, chasing Robin around in the grass with the still-intact water balloon in hand. Robin was shrieking and trying to slap at him with her book, sunglasses flying from her hair. Steve hurled the water balloon, but it slapped against Robin’s back and plopped to the ground without breaking again.

Lightning quick, Robin picked it up and threw it hard back at Steve.

It smacked onto Steve’s chest and burst.

Eddie’s wide eyes drifted down.

Steve’s tiny shorts were now soaked, Robin doubled over with laughter as the water trickled down his torso and collected at the waistband.

Eddie’s gaze followed the path of water through Steve’s chest hair, down the soft planes of his stomach and small swell of his abdominal muscles, tracking past the healing scars on his sides…

When he looked up again, Steve’s eyes were on him.

Just as Eddie was trying to craft an excuse as to why he was openly ogling the guy again, Steve swiped the bottle of sunblock from the grass, holding it up with a little wiggle to Eddie, a slow grin spreading across his face.

Eddie dropped Dustin’s rings into the water without looking, ignoring the kid’s protests, and strode towards Steve.

The other boy’s smile spread wider, his eyes twinkling.

Eddie was fucked.

___

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Princess

Mike Schmidt x Female! Reader

Summary: You detest having a roommate. You enjoy cheap rent. One of these things is going to have to change at some point, and with the week you're having? There's only so long before people reach a breaking point.

Tags: Smut. Filthy smut. (This is the first smut I've published too, so enjoy that.) Enemies to lovers, mocking, Mike is so OoC at some parts you could really shove anyone into this role, I'm going to be so extremely for real. (I'm honestly just feral for the actor. Sorry.) Hate fucking, dirty talk, cursing, cucking(??), listening in, masturbating, dumbification, slight dacrophillia(??), Abby's out of the equation for this scenario. Imagine like, early 20s Mike, he's not caretaker yet. Praising, pet names (good girl, princess, whore, pretty girl), no use of Y/N. Dom! Mike, teasing Reader, Brat (??) Reader, phone sex, walking in on masturbation, walking in on sex, possessive! Mike, hickies/bite marks, finger sucking, hair pulling, slut shaming, probably missing some things imma be honest. Just assume this is depraved.

Notes: I'd like to apologize to God and Josh Hutcherson. This is filth and I recognize my eternal soul is indeed damned. Anyways, bone apple teet.

▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

I didn't mind Mike when I met him, you know.

He's quiet. Shy. Keeps to himself. Those traits should make for a good roommate. If he'd kept his mess confined to his room, maybe the music that he blares just a little too loudly wouldn't be so headache inducing.

My fingers rap on the thin door, demanding his attention which is never given to me unless I make a production out of it. We both know that.

"Michael," I say.

Silence.

"Mike."

Nothing.

I open the door and there he is, peacefully asleep on his bed as the bass shakes the water in his glass. I sigh and click off the stereo, then turn to leave. It's incredible how quickly I hear him shift on the bed, scrambling to stand.

"The fuck?" He croaks, wiping sleep from his eyes.

"Your music was blaring. I already heard it from Mrs. Jones upstairs about you waking her kid up, I'm not dealing with that again," I say raising my hands up in the air defensively.

"I don't sleep well," he says.

"Neither does the baby," I say.

Mike rolls his eyes, turning the music back on and turning his back to me.

"Michael-"

"Don't call me that," he interrupts.

It's my turn to roll my eyes. "Schmidt, can you at least turn it down? I'm asking nicely," I say. He stands there for a moment and though I can't see his face, I know he's thinking.

Finally, with a sigh he says "Fine, princess."

"Don't call me that," I say. I hear a small huff of laughter from him and he turns to look at me.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hit a nerve?" He asks with false sympathy.

"It's a simple request," I say. My eyes narrow at him in irritation.

"Which one?"

"Both."

We stand there for a moment, both of us sizing the other up, taking each other in.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine."

With the agreement having been made, I turn to leave, shutting the door behind me.

Year long lease. Joy.

-Tuesday-

"Hurry up!" Yells Mike, pounding on the bathroom door.

"I'm fucken hurrying!" I yell back, my hands working as fast as they can to wash off my body. Late alarm, fever dreams causing me to wake in a pool of stinking sweat, and one bathroom make for a horrendous cocktail of repeated 'fuck you's through the cheap door.

"I'm gonna be late!" Mike yells.

"So am I, I'm sorry!"

There's a moment of long silence and I think maybe Mike has finally found a spot of pity, realizing that maybe we aren't enemies but simply humans who unfortunately have to coexist in this world together. Then the water turns freezing, and I realize I hate him.

"Michael!" I practically scream. Traces of soap still reside on my body, but the cold and my alarm both force me out. Angered and not thinking clearly, I wrap the towel around my dripping waist and swing the door open.

"Are you fucking happy?" I sneer, face inches from his.

His expression is initially satisfied, but as his eyes flicker downwards he and I both realize my mistake. His eyes widen, lingering for a moment on my bare chest as he processed what he was seeing, then returning to meet my glare.

"What?" I ask sharply. "You've never seen a pair before?"

He stammers. "I-I have."

"Don't act like it," I say. "Take a fucken photo, be the only pair you'll probably ever see in your life, dicksmack."

As though he remembers himself, his eyes narrow. "Move, princess."

I slam past him, walking quickly towards my room and slamming the door behind me.

"Don't wake the baby!" Mike mocks down the hall.

Oh, motherfucker. It is on.

-Wednesday-

It's hard to break a lease. It's harder when nothing as cheap exists in the area. This is a problem for both Mike and I. I know it's true for him because apparently even his bills are too troublesome to keep on the floor of his room. But despite his mess, it's him that comes barreling down the hall, bursting into my room with no warning.

"Jesus, Michael!" I start, spinning around in my chair. "Have you ever heard of knocking?"

"Have you ever heard of washing a dish?" He sneers. "It's not hard. My baby sister could do it."

"Oh, is she available? I'd love to see how she'd handle your laundry situation," I retort.

"Why is it impossible for you to actually wash something? You'll put water in it, let it soak. I respect that, but then you never come back to it. Do you enjoy flies? I think you enjoy flies," he says with hate dripping off of his words. I roll my eyes, but he's not entirely wrong either.

"Fine," I mutter. "I'll do the dishes. Sorry."

"See? Look at how hard that was, princess." He begins to turn away.

"Will you quit fucking calling me that?" I snap.

"I'm following our bargin. You're the one who slips first, princess," he says while laughing, raising his hands in defense.

A long moment passes, neither of us willing to back down.

"Do the dishes yourself," I say finally, turning back to the computer.

"Not my mess," he says.

"Too bad. I'm too delicate," I say with a faux breathiness to my voice. The door slams behind him, which has me instantly rising from my chair to race after him.

"Don't slam my door!" I say.

"You did it the other day!" He says, spinning around to face me and almost slipping on one of his shirts littering the hall. I can't help but smile at that.

"Problems?" I ask.

"Yeah, they exist in whatever demon spawned you," he hisses. His eyes catch on something though, narrowing as he leans slightly closer. "The fuck is on your neck?" He asks.

"The fuck you mean 'the fuck is on my neck?'" I ask.

"I mean you've got something on your neck," he says.

"No I don't," I say. "Move." I shove past him to enter the bathroom beside us, flicking on the light and feeling my irritation rise as he reaches to do the same thing simultaneously.

"See?" He says, pointing at a small, dark mark on my neck.

Fuck.

"I don't fucken know what that is," I lie, covering it with my hand.

"You liar, that's a hickey!" He says still pointing at it.

"Is not!"

"Is too. What, are you fucking some high-schooler?" He scoffs.

"Adults leave hickies too, Mike. It can be enjoyable. You'd know this if someone ever wanted to fuck you," I spit back.

"Who on earth would enjoy having sex with you?" He asks. "The only loads you leave attract flies I don't want to have to deal with come summer."

My jaw drops in shock.

"And the only loads you leave smell like menthols and depression!" I retort.

Staring. Always staring with this guy. Jaws clentched, eyes narrowed.

"Just don't bring this guy around here," he finally says. His voice is quieter but the edge is still there.

I blink. "What?"

"You heard me," he says. "I don't need to hear your shrill voice like that."

Am I imagining things or is he blushing? No, I'm definitely imagining things. It's the florescents.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I taunt. The fuck kind of response was that?

His eyes widen slightly. "No," he says a little too quickly.

"What, you get one look at my tits and now you're thinking about that degenerate shit?" I press, stepping closer.

"I don't- this-" He's blundering. I've got him now, I've found his weak spot.

Without a word, I slip out of the bathroom and return to my room, shutting the door and beginning a plan that will guarantee I won't have to worry about being the roommate that breaks lease and looks for a new apartment.

-Thursday-

"Are you close, baby?" The sweet voice on the phone asks me. The battery on my toy is flashing, showing one of us needs to finish soon. And while I like Nick, there was just something lacking in him that kept me on this irritating edge, hiding my release from me.

"I'm close," I confirm, switching hands to try and hit a new angle. The video on the computer is doing nothing to help with this at all, and I'm so bored I'm tempted to just fake it and seal the deal.

The plan was simple. Establish dominance over my roommate via fucking a guy I'd met at some party the week before. Nick was an easy target, too busy thinking with his dick to question why I was suddenly insistent on him coming over. And to guarantee his presence at the apartment, I would have to put in work. Not that I wasn't fully uninterested. He was alright, I was single. Beneficial for everyone involved.

The vibrator finally found that sweet spot, the one that made me cry out softly into the receiver as my wrist pumped with newfound vigor.

"Close," I told Nick. "Isn't as good as you though."

Nick chuckles softly. "You're sweet," he says. Then he's prattling sweet praises, whimpering into the phone breathily along with me as I finally begin to tip over the edge, moaning loudly and clearly. It's my luck that Mike should be at work at this moment.

Should be.

Wasn't.

The door opens as Mike walks in, his mind obviously focused on something else but immediately taken aback at the sight of me sprawled upon the bed, legs open, toy in hand, Nick on phone, porn on computer. Shit.

"Jesus!" Mike shouts. "It's the middle of the day!"

"Get the fuck out!" I shout back, my voice less vicious than I'd like given that I was mid-ruined orgasm. Mike covers his eyes, trying to stumble out of the door without looking, muttering a dozen apologies a second before finally reaching and slamming the door shut behind him.

Nick and I are both silent for a long while, neither of us sure what to say.

"So... I'll see you tomorrow?" I ask finally.

"...yeah." He says. And with the click of my phone, the plan is solidified.

-

I don't see Mike that evening until about three hours later when he finally emerges from his room with pink cheeks and clothed in a large hoodie he seems to wish would swallow him whole.

"Hey," I say to him. I chew on my cheap food slowly, flipping through my novel at the cluttered table.

"Hi," he says quietly, not really making eye contact with me. He crosses to the cabinets, taking out a glass and filling it with water. We listen to the tap for a moment before I finally say "I didn't mean for you to see that."

His eyebrows scrunch in confusion. "I got that."

More silence. The tap shuts off and he leans against the sink, taking a long sip.

"So... hickey guy?" He finally asks. And I can't help the snort that escapes me.

"Nick," I say.

"And he's...?" Mike is testing the waters, that much is obvious.

"Canadian," I say.

Mike nods. Sip. Silence.

"Nick, from Canada," he says slowly.

"Yep," I say, popping the 'p.'

Mike looks at his drink in thought.

"So you're into Canadians," he finally says. I think for a moment.

"No," I say. I mark my book and close it. "Just bored."

"Just bored?" Mike asks.

"Just bored," I confirm.

Sip. Silence. Thinking.

"You... do that regularly?" He asks.

"I mean... I like sex," I say.

His cheeks redden at that, and he takes another sip as though to hide that.

"He's coming over tomorrow," I say casually. Mike's eyes dart to mine, dark and wide.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Another sip. He finishes his glass.

"Should I find plans for tomorrow?" He asks finally.

"No," I say a bit too quickly. Both of our cheeks redden at that. "I mean, we won't... shouldn't...." I don't know what I mean.

Mike stares at me thoughtfully for a moment then looks back to the glass in his hand.

"You're pretty loud, princess," he finally says quietly.

There's a new tension in the air. One that isn't brought on by hate or dirty dishes. One that I don't mind strangely.

"You could join us, if you'd like," I offer. Mike's grip on the glass tightens so suddenly I'm almost surprised it doesn't burst.

"I- I'm pretty sure I'd get in the way," he stammers. Then his eyes darken, a strange look in them. "Besides, I don't like being a whore."

This comment stings. Deeply.

"I'm not a whore," I say defensively.

"Oh?" Mike asks.

"He's the only guy I've fucked in months, so yeah," I say.

"Oh, is that why I hear you moaning late at night all the fucking time?" Mike says. "Seriously, you're fucking loud."

"And you're a fucking virgin," I snap.

"Says who?" He asks.

"Forget it," I say. I gather my things and rise from my chair. "Don't fucking talk to me."

"Fine," he scoffs. "I'll wash this dish too, princess," he calls after me.

I spin around. "You would be so much more fuckable if you were easy to swallow," I snapped, stomping my foot like a child.

Both of us stare at each other in a bit of shock at what I just said.

"Most girls swallow just fine, thank you," he retorts.

"Who's the whore now?" I say. I don't wait for him to respond, slamming the door shut behind me.

Fine. Let him hate me. That's the whole point of this anyways. Then it'll be me and someone else in this terrible fucking apartment. Maybe it'll be Nick. Anyone would be better, I tell myself.

...

...how easy is Mike to swallow?

-Friday-

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't struggling to remember the correct name right now.

Nick is underneath me, pumping his cock in and out like no tomorrow as I grind against him. My jaw is slack, my hands buried in the blankets fabric underneath of us. I'm staring at the thin door though, the thin door that I know leaks every little noise whether there's a towel under the enormous crack or not. And the shadows of footsteps that I see make it all the easier for Nick to continue his shallow rhythm, edging me closer and closer.

"Mi-Nick," I moan loudly. It sounds endearing, thankfully. But my heart races at how close I've come to fucking things up in a few different ways. "Fuck, you're thick," I moan. It's not particularly true, but his size is fine, so what's an ego boost to help him along the way?

Nick is sweet underneath of me, moaning that I'm his, that we're each others. That's great and all, but God. There is this missing edge. And it isn't until I hear pounding on the bedroom door that I finally feel real excitement begin to flow through me.

"We need to talk," Mike's voice says firmly.

Nick looks guilty, his eyes wide and asking for silent guidance. I don't respond, simply continuing to slide up and down Nick's cock and moaning while doing so.

"Hey, princess," Mike says firmer, pounding on the door again. "Think you can stop Oh-ing Canada and come talk to me like a fucking adult?"

I don't stop, grinding harder against Nick's base. My hands find my clit, rubbing it as I respond.

"I told you you were welcome to join us," I moan. Nick looks at me like I've gone utterly insane, and maybe I have. Maybe I'm completely delusional about all of this, but I couldn't care less as I feel my dripping cunt tighten to the point even Nick doesn't care what happens so long as he comes inside of me.

"Mi-Nick," I moan. "Mi-ne, mi-ne." Come on, Schmidt. Catch the fucking hint.

All night I had been plauged with dreams about Michael fucking Schmidt. I'd noticed when we met he was attractive to me. I liked his hands, his stubble. God, his shoulders made me think things that will probably send me straight to Hell. But hate usually kept these thoughts at bay. Last night however, the dreams wouldn't stop coming. Over and over, a new fantasy of him emerged in my head. Him underneath of me as a writing mess, him begging for more, my tits in his mouth as he finished inside me. It was depraved. I wanted it.

The door bursts open just as Nick is finishing inside of me. It's the look in Mike's eyes that causes me to finish, all while keeping eye contact with him as well.

Nick is quick to flip me on my back, covering my body haphazardly with a blanket prattling excuse after excuse. Apparently we're sorry. Apparently we had gotten too wrapped up in the moment because apparently, you know how it is, right man?

But it doesn't matter. Mike isn't looking at Nick, who's pulling on his shirt above me. Mike's looking at me, watching my fingers that trail gently along my areolas, flicking lightly at my hardened nipples and clearly longing for more.

"Mike wouldn't know the first thing about pleasing a woman," I say with little thought.

"Oh?" Both of them ask me.

"I think you should leave, Nick. Mike and I are going to have a little talk, and I don't want you to see how ugly this may get," I say without breaking eye contact with Mike.

The sudden shift in the air is not subtle, so maybe that's why Nick doesn't really hesitate to listen to me.

"I'll call you later," he says as he stumbles past Mike.

"Don't bother," Mike calls after him. Mike slams the bedroom door shut, locking it before turning to me and raising an eyebrow.

"Is there something you'd like to say to me?" Mike asks, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms as his stands tall.

My hand dips to between my thighs where Nick and I's cum pools out, coating me in the thick stuff.

"Sorry," I say in a spoiled tone, smiling.

Mike's eyes scan my entire body. From the hickies coating my neck, to my breasts and even my thighs, I can see a new wave of anger washes over him. At least, it looks like anger. There's something else mixed with it too, something I desperately want to play with.

"You're not sorry for shit," he says. He's correct.

"I told you last night, I like fucking people," I say as my fingers circle my clit.

Mike's jaw tightens. "You like fucking people," he repeats.

I can see him grind his teeth. He's silent for another moment. "And do you like... him?"

I giggle. "You tell me," I say with a soft and low voice.

His eyebrows twitch. "You're still... going?" He asks with an unsure edge to his voice.

"Yes, Michael. This is what a woman looks like when she's turned on," I say in a mocking tone, batting my lashes as my fingers dip into my entrance. "Would you like to try?"

He steps closer, bending down ever so slightly to stand over me.

"Don't call me that," he says in a low growl.

"Make me," I taunt.

He blinks.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

A startled yelp escapes me as Mike grabs my hips, dragging me roughly to the edge of the bed. He spreads my legs, stepping between them and slips his rough thumb inside of me with no hesitation.

"Fuck. You do like him," he groans, his other hand fiddling with his belt. I can see how hard he is underneath his jeans, his fingers clumsy but working quickly at the items covering him.

"He's oka-ay," I say quickly, my voice trailing off into a soft moan. His thumb explores the inside of my cunt, probing the wet muscle and massaging inside of me spots a man had never taken time to look for before. "Your finger's thick," I moan.

Mike chuckles, freeing himself and pumping into his hand slowly as he presses his thumb deeper inside of me.

"You told Nick he was thick too," he says. "That just your line with guys?"

It is, but this time I actually mean it. So I shake my head. "No," I say quietly.

"I don't believe you," Mike says. He slips his thumb out of me, making me clench around nothing. I open my mouth to protest only for Mike to quickly shove his thumb into my mouth, touching the back of my throat while he sinks his cock into me.

"Go on, pretty girl," he moans. "Take it like the proud whore you are."

I gag around his thumb, both from the sudden intrusion and from the taste. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't like this, if I said that his actions didn't make me even more wet and that I didn't suck his thumb greedily, wrapping my tongue around it and sucking it clean until I can only taste his rough flesh. I swear it makes his dick twitch.

His cock slides in and out of me with ease, taking his time to feel how I wrap around him.

"Fuck," he drawls. "It's been awhile."

I moan around his thumb, running my tongue along the underside and trying to rock my hips against him to tell him to speed up. Instead, he presses a hand down on my lower stomach, pinning me down as he sinks in fully. At first glance his size is average, but inside of me it's overstimulating how he fills me just a little too much.

His thumb presses further into my throat, making me gag as he tilts his head back in pleasure.

"You are just demanding. Do you know that?" He asks. I try to respond, but he simply presses his thumb against a spot that makes me gag once more.

"Nothing's good enough for you. Not even Nick. You didn't even cum until I came in here," he laughed cruelly, looking down at where we connect. His other thumb trails down to rub my clit slowly, making me writhe underneath him and clench around his still cock.

"Never shutting up. Till now. I like it when you're quiet, princess. Makes you easier to swallow." He presses deeper inside of me, making me whine in overstimulation.

"You're mine now," he says, slowly pulling out. "You can call Nick all you want. Call him, fuck him. But we both know he's not gonna make you cum like I will." Just his tip remains in me, barely staying in before he slams back into me so hard I scream.

"So what's the point?" Mike asks, slowly slipping out once more. "Do you like pitting men against each other like that?" He slams back into me. My eyes water, but I don't protest.

This time when he pulls back, he stays there. I wait for him, trying to he patient. But then he removes his thumb and wraps his hand around his length instead.

"What?" I ask, my voice raw.

"Say it," Mike says as he jerks himself off slowly.

"Say what?" I ask.

"I'm not gonna fuck you like you want unless you say you're mine," he says casually. His tip is bright red and leaking precum, his length coated in Nick and I's milky cum.

"Fuck you," I say. Mike just laughs.

"You're the one laying here crying over some dick," he taunts. "I just want to make sure we're on the same page here, princess."

I try to hold strong, I really do. It'd be more fun if I did. But fuck. The way he stands over me, his shoulders broad. I could never deny I liked the sight of his hands either, and seeing them tug as his pulsing cock while he stared down at me with that stupid fucking smile?

It's not fair.

"I'm yours," I say quietly.

"Hmm?" Mike asks, pumping his dick quicker now. I can see how hard his veins are, and the sounds of him fucking his own hand make me want him more.

"Yours," I repeat slightly louder.

"Use proper English," he says. His face has this stupid blissful look on it, his mouth slightly open as he pants, fucking himself and watching me as he does.

"I am yours," I hiss through gritted teeth. It doesn't even take a full second before he's buried in me once more, his hands pinning my knees to my shoulders and fucking me with enough speed I'm genuinely scared he'll hurt me. And I love it.

"I'm going to make you mine," he grins, his voice suddenly turning feral.

"I'm going to make you mine so much that you won't even be able to remember what Nick's name is, let alone what he looks like. Or what he feels like."

"Uh huh," I whine. My voice is so unusually high and ragged, my mouth slack and eyes rolling back in pleasure. I rock against his hips, trying to find my second edge. I'm babbling, whether I'm asking for mercy or more is anyone's guess.

He laughs at me, and it's a harsh and cruel laugh - not at all like the usual sarcasm and mockery he displays. Instead, his laugh comes from a place that is raw and angry and vicious, the kind of laugh a wolf makes when he's about to go for the kill.

"What's the matter?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Not quite the big, bad man that he's made you think he was, is he? How disappointing," he continues, his hips thrusting into me repeatedly.

I cry loudly with each new thrust. His movements are cruel, borderline abusive. Christ, I love it.

"Bigger," I whine. "Bigger."

He teeth nip at my throat, sinking in hard enough I'll be wearing sweaters and scarves for weeks. Makeup won't touch the color.

"Bigger?" He asks in a mocking voice. "What's bigger?"

"You're bigger," I moan. My voice is broken, and there's no way the neighbors don't hear the degeneracy occurring around them. Sorry, Mrs. Jones.

"What are you going for?" he snaps, his eyes narrowing and his voice growing more and more vicious. "Big bad Mike?" he giggles, his grip tightening on my ankles as he continues plunging into me.

A loud scream escapes me as Mike finds my g spot. He doesn't relent, focusing on the spot and abusing it while I sob and try to wiggle away, completely overstimulated from pleasure and unable to handle it.

His hands pin me against him, trapping me where I am and forcing me to take him however he wants me to.

"You want more?" he asks, taking one hand away from my ankles, grabbing and pulling my hair harshly, forcing me to stare into his eyes. His pupils are so blown out I can't even see his pretty hazel irises. They're dark and predatory, his breath hot and heavy with rage.

"Is that what you want?" he asks, pulling back and plunging into my aching cunt again.

"Yes!" It's a violent scream that escapes me, feeling myself begin to tip over the edge. His eyes sparkle, his lips in a smile that shows he knows he's won.

"And what would Nick say if he could see you like this? All mine, all mine..." he taunts.

"Huh?" I'm completely stupid, my body coming undone so suddenly around his dick with cries, screams, whimpers and everything inbetween. Nick was foreplay and I've no mental energy to remember any detail that isn't Mike's.

"Don't even know his name?" Mike laughs. "You can't even remember his name, can you?" he grins, his eyes narrow again as he tugs my hair and shoves himself in further.

"Uh uh," I pant in a high voice. My body shakes terribly, his pounding length already edging me once more as he continues abusing my spot. How on earth am I supposed to walk after this?

"Then let me help you remember his name," he says. "Say his name."

"Mike," I moan pathetically. I'm right back on that edge, crying and feeling as though I'll burst from overstimulation.

"Louder," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Say it louder. Say his name loud enough for him to hear you."

"Mike!" I scream it religiously as I come undone a second time, gripping him to the point I can feel how close he is too. I hear him laugh above me, his other hand now wrapping around my throat and choking me slightly.

"That's my name," he says with mocking gentleness. "Say his name or I won't finish."

"I don't remember," I sob. Jesus Christ, do I have problems? "Just want you!"

His face glows, his lips split into a wide grin of satisfaction.

"So you want me, do you, princess?"

I nod pathetically. He's throbbing, slamming into me hard enough it may draw a third climax in a row.

His laugh is cruel above me, his lips landing on top of mine in a wet, possessive kiss. His tongue fills my mouth, forcing me to take him as the sounds of him fucking me like a depraved animal makes me whine in desperation.

He pulls away, a long string of spit between us connecting our lips.

"Then I'll give you what you want, princess," he says. "But there's a price."

"Uh huh," I agree. My eyes roll back as my body twitches, barely able to focus as he thrusts into me.

"Look at me," he says patiently, tugging my hair once more. When I manage to remember how, he let's out a long 'aw,' smiling down at me with false sweetness as I stare dumbly into his eyes. I suppose I'm staring into his eyes. God, I'm stupid.

His thumb grazes my jaw, tutting as he examines my face closely.

"Your eyes are pretty...*" he says, his voice sweet and tender, almost like I've made him soft and vulnerable, but his cock pounding into me causes the beginning of a headache that won't let me forget how much we hate each other. "Your eyes are pretty, your mouth is pretty..."

I lick my lips and nod lightly.

"You are just such a pretty girl, aren't you?" He asks. I nod, my body twitching uselessly as my third climax washes over me.

"Good girl," he praises. "All fucked out over me. That's good."

Suddenly and without warning, he pulls out quickly and shoves my face down close to his cock, coming all over my face. It's thick and everywhere. In my hair, my mouth. I can't even open my eyes.

"Stay like that," Mike commands as he lays me on my back. His softening cock reenters me and pumps lazily, his purpose to make sure he's fully emptied.

"Any new thoughts?" He asks me in a strange tone, light and amused. I simply moan, relishing the moment. He chuckles and spreads my legs so he can better see what is happening between us. It isn't until I hear the chime of his camera confirming a recording that I realize what he's done.

"Mike?" I ask, barely able to think straight.

A low laugh escapes him, cruel but warm.

"I want to show your new boyfriend the real you," he says. "Make sure we're all on the same page here, right?

...Fuck me, I have problems.

¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

Thanks for reading, pookies. See y'all in hell.

Masterlist

[joshfutturman]

"happy anniversary" 18+

oneshot - he's anxious to celebrate your one-year anniversary, but it turns out that mike schmidt is just full of surprises. (3.4k words) pairing - mike schmidt (five nights at freddys movie) + gn!reader tags - abby is at a sleepover, established relationship, sort of sappy sometimes, pure filth tho, mike gives you lots of hickies, mike goes down on you while you're on his dining room table, alcohol mention, he maybe pours some wine on you and licks it off :3c oops, fucking against a wall, creampie, mutual orgasm, dirty talk.

a/n - i wrote this to celebrate the ten year anniversary of five night's at freddys! celebrate with me with some good old fashioned smut :3

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

one whole year with mike schmidt, and honestly? you couldn't be happier. you and abby had grown close, mike was smiling more, eating better, sleeping better - you make each other better people. he knows he can lean on you when days get dark, you provide a safe space for him to heal after struggling for so long in his own head.

however, he'd insisted on not celebrating your one-year anniversary. something about him being 'cursed'. this was a pattern with mike, being afraid to celebrate anything good in his life, as though it would be ripped from him in an instant. you tried to protest but knew it was futile. he'd made up his mind, and you knew how hard it was to get inside that stubborn head of his.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

you pretended it didn't bother you that a day spent littering mike with kisses and affection was slipping through your fingers. you could do that any day, right? but what made it special was that it was going to be your day. you pretended not to be disappointed.

pulling up outside his place, you fidget nervously before exiting your car. would he even remember that it's your anniversary? maybe he'd pushed it so far to the back of his mind that it had gotten lost there. that thought hurt. swallowing your dispirited thoughts, you make your way towards the door and pull out your key, adorned with a cute little freddy fazbear keychain abby had given you despite mike's disapproval.

but as you open the door, you're greeted with. . . darkness? the usual lull of mike's living room lights has been replaced with a soft orange illumination instead. there's a small candle on the side table by the door, and then another on the coffee table. . . and another on the tv stand. you step inside and close the door gently, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. what was this?

"hey," his voice pulls you from your confused thoughts, your eyes darting towards the sound of mike's low voice. it's then you see him, standing nervously beside the dining table. even more candles are carefully placed across the table, illuminating the room in a soft warm glow. there's a bottle of wine, two plates with what looks to be a home-cooked meal and. . . was that wilting red roses?

mike clears his throat, grabbing the flowers to busy his hands, but also to extend them to you, a gift. or, they were supposed to be. his eyes glance down at them, the deep scarlet petals fading. he falters at the sight of them, mouth opening and then closing again. "bought 'em a few days ago to be prepared and i guess i, uh. . . didn't really think about the fact that they'd die."

you take a few steps towards him as he continues. this wasn't a spur-of-the-moment thing, he'd thought about this.

"i just. . . it's not that i didn't wanna celebrate our anniversary," he mumbles, looking anywhere but you, "i was. . . scared? i dunno. listen, i just-"

you shut him up promptly with a kiss, gripping the collar of his hoodie and pulling him against you. his hand instantly goes to your waist, squeezing the soft flesh there as he loses himself in your lips, slowly lowering the flowers in his hand as the thought of them possibly disappointing you leaves his mind.

"i love you," you whisper against his lips, snaking your hands up to cup his cheeks, "i love you." you speak it with great conviction.

between your words, he breathes softly against your lips before diving back in with renewed vigour, tossing the roses aside on the floor and placing both hands on the small of your back. his large hands grip you, fingers splayed across the fabric of your shirt as his tongue slips inside your mouth.

gasping, you melt as he takes you so confidently, a kiss that claims you as his, a kiss that eliminates the need for more words. the way he's gripping you. . . god, you're not sure he's ever held you like this, like he needs you right now or he'll die. tonight, he wants to spoil you.

his hand brushes down along your side to grasp a handful of your thigh, yanking it up and around his hip. you yelp a little and keep your leg firmly wrapped around him, allowing your hips to press closer to his, feeling that familiar bulge tease you. just picturing his length had you shuddering in his arms.

"fuck, mike. . ." you whisper as you pull back for breath, eyes fluttering open.

but he can't wait, he can't part with you for even a second. his lips are immediately on your neck, kissing up along the column of your throat, leaving small red marks that will only grow worse with time. tilting your head back, you expose more of yourself to him gladly. he could have all of you and ask for more, and you'd happily give it to him.

"you always taste so fuckin' sweet. . ." he purrs against your skin, tongue flicking out to soothe those hickies he's so kindly left behind. you can feel the hint of a smirk on his lips against your neck and it makes your knees weak, heat surging in your groin.

oh how his smirks and smiles were so rare, you cherish every single one, especially when they were for you, because of you.

in one swift movement, he lifts you into his arms and turns towards the table, laying you down against the glass. you look up at him in surprise, panting softly, reeling from his touches and the way his lips were so greedily dancing against your skin just moments before.

mike smooths his hands down along your thighs, admiring your soft skin below him, "think i want a taste of somethin' else, though. . ." his hands slide back up to the button of your jeans, popping it open and unzipping quickly.

your chest rises and falls rapidly, heart pounding, looking up at him as he undresses you. you love the way that lust clouds his eyes, those hazel hues growing darker in the dim light, eyes focused on you and only you. "can i?" he whispers, slowly inching your jeans downwards. of course, you nod.

slowly, he rolls the jeans down your hips and along your legs, taking a moment to kiss up along the skin that is exposed to him. his lips find your knee, then your soft calf, eyes closed as he savours every moment with you. tossing your jeans aside, his eyes fixate on the growing need between your legs, instinctively licking his lips. he'd cooked you a meal, sure, but here you were, bringing a meal home for him.

and fuck, your breathing hitches as you watch his hungry stare, suddenly feeling hotter under his gaze. you can't take much more - with shaking hands, you begin to remove your underwear, pulling them down to your ankles, not bothering to remove them completely. mikes calloused hands rest against your thighs, spreading you open a little wider for him as he kneels.

craning your neck, you keep your eyes on him all the while, desperate not to lose sight of him. you want. . . no, you need to watch him as he uses that tongue of his.

jerking you forward just a tad, your hips are drawn to the edge of the table with one pull. mike wraps his arms around your thighs leaning in to nuzzle against your core. his nose nudges you and you whine, feeling sparks throughout your body. finally, some friction.

"thought about this all day. . ." he grumbles, licking a stripe along you sloppily causing you to moan, "i miss you when you're gone." mike admits, and you're not sure what's hotter, his vulnerable words or the way he's looking up at you with those puppy dog eyes from between your thighs.

"missed you too baby, always do," your voice is shaky, body trembling in anticipation and from sheer need. you thread your fingers through mike's hair, your other hand propping you up on the table so you can watch him more easily.

he groans, eyes closing over as he dives back in, licking and sucking your sensitive skin. you love how fucking messy he gets like this, dribbling down his chin, wondering where you end and he begins. you want to watch him, but you reluctantly let your head fall back, overcome with pleasure, eyes closing as you huff into the air, back flush against the table beneath you.

"so good," you whine, moaning at each movement of his tongue. your free hand reaches out to grab something, anything to stabilise you, to ground you in the moment - but in your clumsiness, you almost send the bottle of wine flying from the table.

cursing, you catch it and mike pulls back, looking up to see the commotion. a grin finds its home on his lips as he sees the wine, "thirsty?" he asks.

laughing nervously, you settle the bottle back down in its place, but not before mike places a hand over yours, taking the bottle. swallowing hard, your eyes widen, what was he up to? he had that mischievous look in his eye, normally reserved for when he was feeling especially confident in the bedroom or when he was repressing a dirty joke.

he takes the bottle, unscrewing it as he stands, eyes locked on yours in a heated gaze. you sit there, legs spread, wet with his saliva, suppressing a shudder as the air of the room brushes against the damp spots on your skin.

bringing the bottle to his lips, his eyes still stay firmly on yours with an intensity that causes you to shiver, mouth suddenly feeling dry as you watch the wine spill into his mouth. your eyes fix on his throat, watching as his adams apple bobs with each swallow.

after a gulp, he wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve - good thing its a black hoodie - and speaks up, "want some?"

how can you say no? you're laying there, spread open for him, by him. you nod, maybe a little more eagerly than you'd like. but mike knew how much you loved him, how much you craved his touch. you never need to be embarrassed around him.

"alright baby, i'll give you a taste, just wait. . ." he smiles and brings the bottle down, hovering it above your core. your eyes widen, what the fuck was he-

it trickles down, the red wine coating your heat. instinctively, you gasp sharply at the wet, cool sensation, feeling it run down to your ass and along your thighs. with wide eyes, you look up at him in disbelief.

"babe, what are you-"

"shhhh. . . let me spoil you for once," he places the wine back down on the table, kneeling again as he inches closer. then, his tongue begins slowly lapping at the red liquid. he moans softly at the taste, eyes closing as he takes in the combined flavour of both you and the alcohol. he would do this all day if you'd let him, and you could tell how much he loved using his mouth on you.

the sight of him lapping hungrily at you, tongue sliding across your inner thighs, cleaning up the mess he made - it's almost too much. you're gasping and panting and arching your back against the table. "holy fuck mike," you whisper, it's all you could think to say in the moment, the words coming out automatically. it was all so dirty, head reeling at how confident mike was being today, but he was determined to make you feel good, to make up for his insecurities and anxieties of celebrating his anniversary with you.

he just wants to make you feel how much he loves you, how much he worships you.

pulling back, earning a disappointed whine from you, he trails up your body until his reddened lips are on yours, tongue immediately seeking entrance. you accept, wrapping your arms around him as he kisses you. the intoxicating taste of yourself and the distinct notes of red wine fill your senses as mike deepens the kiss, giving you the taste you asked for.

mike feels you smile against his lips, causing him to smile in turn. his cock twitches in need, he's almost painfully hard, each throb reminding him just how desperately he wants to be buried inside of you.

lifting you from the table, he turns and pins you against the wall, ensuring your legs are wrapped firmly around his. "hold on," he instructs before kissing you once more, a lazy kiss as he pushes his joggers and underwear down.

already you feel his hardened length hit your thighs and you whine. fuck, you want it so bad. you bite your tongue to stop yourself from begging him to fuck you nice and hard.

"can i fuck you like this?" he asks in a hurried whisper, panting softly as his hands return to hold you up by your thighs, pushing you a little harder against the wall. even in the heat of the moment, he wants to make sure you're comfortable.

your head spins at the question, and you nod quickly, "please, fuck me."

bringing a hand down to position himself at your entrance, you gasp as you feel his slick, leaking tip against you. he does the same, hissing softly at the contact. once he feels himself easing him, he moves his hand back to your plush thighs, digits digging into the skin.

mind blank, head feeling empty, all that you can think about is how perfectly he's pushing into you, how perfectly he's stretching you out right now. your head rests back against the wall, eyes closed as you adjust to his girth. his saliva and remnants of the wine drip down against him and onto the floor, but he doesn't fucking care.

his eyes watch your expression shift with great interest, watching at every subtle shift, the way your eyebrows twitch, your mouth falls open as his cock slides deeper. . . god he fucking loves you.

"that good baby?" he asks, voice husky as he attempts to keep his composure.

you simply nod, biting your lip as he slides in all the way, his hips meeting your thighs with a soft smack. you both sigh in satisfaction, you're full of him, but it's not enough, he needs to move.

and shit, it's like he reads your mind, because he does. slowly, he begins pistoning his hips up into yours. gradually at first, keeping a slow and steady pace as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. soft, needy moans slip from your lips as he fucks you, back pressed tightly against the wall.

his name sings from your lips, gripping the base of his hair and his back. he loves how you say his name, how it drips from your lips so sweetly. he bucks his hips a little faster in response, his body moving without thinking. his stubble prickles at your neck as he groans softly against your skin, brows arching as you clench around him.

"just like that," you coo, fingers dancing through the curls that find their home at the back of his head, "don't stop. . ."

mike didn't plan to. he'd fuck you forever if he could, truly. it was always such a serene experience with you, helped his mind go blank, clear those poisonous thoughts. . . mind filled instead with thoughts of fucking you, hearing those pretty little moans, making you cum on his aching cock and burying his load deep inside of you.

and that's exactly what he plans on doing tonight.

one whole fucking year, one whole year. mike wonders how he got so lucky to have you, he prays to a god he doesn't believe in that he'll never lose you like he's lost so many things he's cherished.

"love you. . ." he suddenly whispers against your neck as his pace increases, slamming into you with a force that takes your breath away. the hurried shift in speed has you reeling, gripping him tighter, every thrust pushing you back against the wall.

"f-fuck mike!" you call out, gasping, "love you too baby, don't stop. . . keep fucking me like that, just like that."

he groans deeply, his voice rumbling against your neck as his grip on your thighs intensifies, growing tighter - just like you are around his dick.

you're close, he can tell, and he's not far behind either, lost in a haze of how much he loves you. your thighs begin to tremble against him, your whole body tensing as the pleasure coils and weaves in your lower body, settling across your stomach.

oh fuck, this might be the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced. this angle, the way he's pumping up into you relentlessly, how can it get more -

he looks up at you, sweat beading on his forehead, mouth stained red from the wine, "cum for me." mike pleads.

oh. fuck. it got hotter.

"gonna cum-" you whimper with a nod, arching your back against the wall which allows him to go deeper, hitting that sweet, sweet spot.

when he hears those moans, he knows he's got you. you're gonna cum for him, gonna cum all over him just like he wants you to. he pants at his exertion, thrusting harder, the room filling with sounds of skin slapping against skin. his eyes lock on your face, watching desperately for the moment you fall over the edge.

"c'mon, baby, cum for me. that's it. . ."

and you can't hold back. the orgasm rips through you like a tornado, filling every sense, dismissing every thought, quelling every worry, until everything is just him. it's just him and the way he's fucking you and looking up at you like you're the most beautiful and perfect thing he's ever seen, like he'd go to the ends of the earth and back just to make you smile.

you're moaning like crazy, practically screaming as his dick hits that spot over and over with the way you're angled and the way he's pumping up into you. you clench around him frantically, involuntarily through pleasure, causing him to gasp and for his eyes to grow hazy - a sign that he was about to cum too.

fuck, you love the way his face shifts when he cums. the way his brows relax, mouth falls open, eyes growing distant as his cum fills you nice and deep. and you feel it, the white, hot sticky mess emptying inside of you causing you to moan even more.

you both gasp in pleasure as it overcomes the two of you, mike's thrusts faltering as he empties himself into you. your eyes lock together, watching as you unravel for each other.

as the overwhelming sensations begin to subside, he leans in, capturing your mouth in a hungry, sloppy kiss. you return the favour, chasing his lips with equal messiness - coming down from your high.

"happy anniversary baby. . ." he mumbles against your lips as you smile, swallowing hard as you feel him slowly leak out of you.

you pause, glancing behind him to the table and the meal he'd so generously and thoughtfully made for you, a slight sadness in your tone as you speak up, "shit, sorry. . . think the dinners gone cold?"

"don't need dinner, i already had my dessert," mike chuckles cheekily, kissing the side of your lips, then your cheek, then your nose and back to your lips again.

and you giggle under his onslaught of affection, "yeah, but i didn't. . ." grinning, you lick your lips and glance downwards between you, his dick on your mind again already despite him fucking you senseless just a few moments prior.

his brows raise, a smirk overtaking his features - now all he can imagine is that pretty little mouth of yours wrapped around his hard cock. it wouldn't take him long to get hard again. maybe this anniversary thing wasn't so bad.

mike kisses you once more, pressing you more firmly against the wall as he allows a hand to travel up and rest at the base of your throat.

fuck, if this was your one-year anniversary, what was your two-year anniversary going to be like? your ten-year anniversary? your legs go weak at the thought of mike fucking you just like this for the rest of your life.

"happy anniversary, mike."

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 38

part 1 | part 37 | ao3

"Sure thing."

"Can you go say hey to everyone, too? Please?" he adds. "I need a second."

He expects Eddie to tease him for being bossy, but Eddie just winks and says, "Do you one better than that, sugar," smiling playfully with his tongue out like a dog before he bounds outside and tackles one of the kids into a pile of snow.

Steve uses the distraction to clean himself up; towel the sweat from his face and hair and clean the blood off of his knuckles, and when he steps outside a moment later Eddie's shouting "no wedgies no wedgies!!" while Dustin tries to shove a snowball down the back of his pants.

"Steve!" Eddie calls out when he spots him. "Steve, help!"

"No, help me!" Dustin counters with a strained grunt as Eddie grapples him into a chokehold. Mike yells "Get him, Eddie!" and Lucas rolls his eyes and mutters, "This is what we get for not bringing any girls."

The trip is pure chaos right from the jump, which Steve anticipated the second he suggested packing five dudes into a van for a run to the hardware store (he had to sit through ten minutes of Mike, Dustin, and Lucas arguing over everything from girls to books to whether The Cure objectively sucks or not until Eddie finally hollered "shut the fuck up!" and drowned them all out with 'real music'), but it feels good to be in charge. To have a project to manage, even if he's the reason there's a project in the first place.

He bosses the boys around the aisles when they get to the store, gathering up supplies — tarps and tools and vinyl, a few sheets of plywood to repair the damaged subfloor, disinfectant spray and gloves; safety shit, too, just in case they need it — and it reminds him of that day in the junkyard. Hey, dickheads! How come the only one helping me out is this random girl?

"You talk to Max lately?" he asks Lucas when they get a minute alone.

Lucas dips his head and kicks at the wheel of their shopping cart, looking so much like a kid, even though he's almost taller than Steve now. "No," he says with a frustrated sigh. "I don't— it's like she's there, but she's not there. You know? I don't know how to reach her."

"Mm." Steve gets that. Felt it just this morning. He claps a hand to Lucas' shoulder. "Just give her time," he suggests, bending to grab a sanding block off a shelf and drop it in the cart.

In his periphery, he sees Eddie skipping at the far end of the aisle while Mike and Dustin chase after him. "Is she still with Eddie's friend?"

Lucas glares at the back of Eddie's head at Steve's reminder, voice sullen when he answers, "Shit, man. I don't know."

"Is he being cool to you?"

"Who, Gareth?"

"No, Eddie," Steve clarifies, remembering Erica's threat-request to look out for her brother.

"Oh." Lucas scratches the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, he treats basketball like it's the Dark Side, but-"

He breaks off with a little laugh, and Steve laughs with him. "Yeah. He's kind of dramatic. I'll talk to him about it."

"You will?"

"Sure. Jock solidarity and all that." He gives Lucas a fist bump, and Lucas gives him a long, thoughtful look, chewing his lip.

"So you guys are, like... friends now?"

Steve's heart gives an unhelpful flutter at the question. They are like friends now, he guesses, if friends kiss each other with tongue.

He clears his throat at that thought and looks away to hide his blush; sees Eddie using a cut of PVC pipe as a sword, lunging at Mike in a fencer's pose and shouting 'en garde!' "...Unfortunately, yeah."

—

part 39

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[charlottecutepie]

₊˚⊹ᰔ Deal (Mathew Lillard!William Afton x fem!reader)

tags: public sex, m receiving, praise, riding, unprotected sex, threatening??

my notes: not really sure about this one, I might delete it later, idk yet :,) also eng isn’t my first language

“Hello? Mr. "I can't work nights?” Steve's hoarse voice asks, a beaming smile on his face as he talks to his potential victim.

It's always that fucking phone with wires. He'll never get off it. Most, if not all, questions are resolved through this damn phone.

Every time you enter this office, you see Raglan chatting sweetly on the phone, talking about jobs, vacancies, answering customer questions. And then his dark eyes rest on you, briefly studying your face before settling on your body. It's unpleasant feeling, as if you're exposed in front of him like meat on a plate when he already has a fork and a knife in his hands. There Steve lets out a laugh, takes the phone away from his ear and whispers softly to you: "you know what to do, honey." Embarrassment merges with arousal, which you can’t calm down in any way.

It always happens, it has already become a little tradition that at first you hated and denied. You were sick of yourself. But what happened? What made you like it? You started asking for more, you started coming to this damn office yourself, staring at the floor, obediently waiting for the cherished words.

"Yes, it absolutely is. Why? Have you had a change of heart?" Raglan asks with undisguised interest, clarifying Mike's intentions. He didn't even expect him to call back. This is just pure luck, Mike himself fell into his hands, so it's even better.

Every day, the same office, the same time, the same desk, the same Steve Raglan.

You're praying that sloppy sounds of you taking Steve's cock in your mouth don't reach Mike on the other end of the line, you're already ashamed enough. You try to be careful not to get his pants and floor dirty, but Steve doesn't care. His hand rests on your hair, stroking you like a little pet, an obedient pet.

Of course, you'll be obedient. You have made a deal after all.

"Let me give you a little backstory." he lowers his gaze to take a good look at you and spreads his legs wider. His cock penetrates deeper, he presses on your head, which causes an unpleasant feeling of tickling in your throat. You look at him, fluttering your eyelashes quickly as a sign that you're short of air. Fingers dig into his pants, crumpling the fabric. Steve raises his eyebrows, faking surprise, oh, what a pity. He's too rude, and you're too gentle, how cute. "Breathe through your nose or you forgotten you have one?" Steve lowered his voice.

"Can you repeat it again? I didn't hear you." Schmidt clarifies on the phone. You stop moving your head, afraid that Mike will hear something.

Steve sighs and adjusts his glasses, looking away from you. He starts explaining something again and you almost calm down, but he jerks his hips, allowing his dick to fully penetrate your throat, which makes you moan softly.

"This place was huge in the 80s with the kids." he smirks. Fortunately, Mike cannot see the face of his career counselor right now, because it’s definitely distorted by sarcasm and mockery. "This place been shut down for years. The only reason they haven’t given it the old wrecking ball treatment is the owners a bit of a… well, he’s kind of a sentimental guy, I guess. Just can’t bring himself to let it go yet." he chuckles. "Yeah…"

Steve's cock throbs in your mouth as you try to inhale through your nose. It's too much, you're slowly suffocating as now the whole situation is controlled by Raglan's hand, which is holding you by the hair. It hurts so bad, but then why you feel the warmth between your legs?

"Had some trouble with break-ins over the years. Drunks and vagrants, mostly. Not ideal…" it's surprising the way he do it, so calmly talking to someone on the phone while roughly fucking your throat. Although at times his tone is interrupted by quiet sighs. "Security systems dated, but fully functional. Floodlights on the outside, cameras inside and outside. Fair warning: the electricity is a bit… iffy." he’s all shining with joy while telling Mike about the pizzeria.

When you pull on his pants, tears come to your eyes and your throat hurts unbearably, Steve removes his hand from your hair. You release his shaft from your mouth with a popping sound that sounds very loud in such silence. Raglan smiles, looking at you contentedly, your chin is covered with saliva, cum on your lips, youre so beautiful, sweet. You’re lucky he's in a good mood today.

"Anything happens, there is a breaker in the main office, just flip it." he continues, but now looking at you, which makes it feel like he’s having a conversation with you. You exhale, wrapping your hand around his cock, moving up and down, he slowly pumps into your fist. His hand caresses your cheek, finger runs over your lips, smearing his cum, and it makes you smile a little. There's nothing to smile about, though. But you can't hold back the slight feeling of euphoria from such a gentle Steve, feeling yourself… Special? His touch is tender and his gaze has softened, he smiles while you continue to work with your hand. "Uhm, I guess that’s about it. You know, the rest is pretty easy. Just keep your eyes on the monitors and keep people out. Piece of cake." you lean closer, tucking your hair behind ear and running your tongue over his leaking tip. "Fuck, baby." he exhales, slightly squeezing the receiver of the old phone.

"Mr. Raglan?" Mike's puzzled voice. Your heart skipped a beat, like Schmidt's, but not Steve’s. Mike frowned, holding the phone closer to his ear. Did he hear correctly or….? From the very beginning of the conversation, he suspected something was wrong. Yeah, Steve's really weird.

Your innocent lick on his cock brought man to an instant orgasm. He was already on the verge from face fucking you, but the feeling of your tongue on his sensitive tip brought him to the limit. Putting the phone away a little further, he covered his cock with his hand until the spurts of cum laid on your face. He let out a barely heard groan, his glasses fogged up.

"I said it’s a piece of cake." Steve repeats, clearly not interested in continuing dialogue with Mike. "So, I'll catch you on the flip side… hopefully." not waiting for an answer, he hangs up.

What a good day, what an easy prey, how fortunate.

He’s in such a wonderful mood, light idea of rewarding you appears in his head. Why not?

"Come here, baby," he points to his knees with his finger, and you get up like a zombie, immediately pressing your legs together because of the uncomfortable feeling of soaked panties. Of course you're wet, this isn't the first time you are. But this will be the first time your problem will be taken care of. "you've been such a good girl, why don't I return the favor?"

Steve spreads your legs and sits you on his knee, hands holding you in place when you try move. It's not that you don't like it, you're actually losing your mind, but you feel too awkward knowing that you're in a public place. And the fact that he can feel your throbbing pussy against his knee doesn’t make situation better.

"What would you like, honey? My tongue or fingers?" he looks up at you, moving you so that your wet underwear rubs against the fabric of his pants. Your clit is stimulated, but in the most painful and torturous way, causing shallow sighs. You put both hands on his shoulders and squeeze his shirt as you throw head back.

"Please…" you're almost crying. "please, your… oh…" one more move and you'll cum. "cock, your cock, Steve, please!"

"Hush," he squeezes your thigh. "you know our little rule, don't you? Or should i remind you?"

"William," you're correcting your mistake. "William." He grunts with satisfaction.

"That's it." Afton's hands wander over your body, caressing you in right places. "Tell me honestly, you’re going to scream?" at first you don't even understand what he's asking.

He kisses your neck, continuing to slowly bounce you up and down on his knee. Thanks to you, a dark wet spot already appeared on his pants. His beard tickles your skin and his tongue leaves a wet trail on it.

"Yeah," you come to your senses, finally understanding what he meant.

William breaks into a smile. Of course, you'll scream, not just scream, but break your voice and cry, he knows that. His cock is hardening again. Afton loosens his tie, leaving it hanging around his neck. He'll definitely find a good use for it, already did. He makes you get off his lap and you look down, blushing. God, you couldn't be that wet?.. It's humiliating, so embarrassing.

William pulls your panties down to your ankles, and you step over them, remaining only in a skirt and shirt. You don't know what to do. This is the first time something as it happens, you've never gone far than just a blowjob. He pulls off your skirt as well, causing it to fall along with your underwear. He pushes the clothes aside with his foot, then sits you on top of him again. William’s eyes don’t leave yours, his hand reaches down, you feel a finger at your wet entrance.

Your lips part to let out a loud moan and William steals it with a kiss. You can't make any noise. He pushes his hips up, pressing the head of his cock against your pussy. He mumbles something into your mouth, holds you tightly in one position, you’re unable to move. His tongue roughly explores your mouth. William feels your breath on him and smiles. Then his hands grope your butt and he pushes you down, slowly lowering you onto his cock.

He moans in unison with you, but quietly, working hours aren’t over yet. However, you can't hold back the loud whimpering, feeling full. It doesn't seem very pleasant at first. Afton closes his eyes, thrusting fully.

"Be quiet." another warning. "You're taking my cock so well," he praises. "don't try to pull away," his hands go up to your back. "you have no right to do that, you know that." a careful but extremely unnecessary reminder. At least, definitely not at the moment when you're having sex with him, you don't want to think about a deal. About consequences if you’ll break it.

Every touch gives you a pleasant tingling sensation and you start to enjoy it more with every second. You move on top of him, trying to find the right angle, pressing your chest against his. You don't want to look at his face, into his eyes, because even through the glasses you can see that he's devouring you with his eyes. It's embarrassing. But it gets worse when he runs his tongue over your nipple through your shirt, leaving a wet spot on your clothes. William lightly bites the sensitive skin, while squeezing your other nipple with his fingers, a hiss leaves your lips. It hurts, but it turns you on even more. His chest heaves, he tries to restrain himself from jerking his hips up and ruin your cunt the way you deserve. Your warm walls squeeze his cock too tightly as you tremble from too much attention to your nipples.

"Now move up and down," William points out. "and don't forget about hips."

He knows you've never tried this pose. Of course, he knows everything about you. He likes to be closer to his prey.

Your fingers on his shoulders tighten, you begin to move according to his words. You don't forget about your hips, as he demanded. And then something pleasant begins to spread through the body. An enveloping feeling that radiates to every nerve. His cock feels much different than it did a few minutes ago. Everything inside is burning and throbbing, your body needs more. You want to move faster, you can barely contain your moans. William puts his shoulder up, which is what you're using to shut yourself. You mumble, unable to make a sound, whine, but you continue to bounce on him.

"Good girl," his words break you. "such a tight pussy." your teeth are digging into him painfully, soaking the man's shirt with saliva.

Afton starts moving with you, now holding you tightly. It's like you're nothing more than a rag doll in his hands. Your body becomes so weak and sluggish, eyes roll back in bliss. His cock goes in and out of your pussy with an incredibly perverted sound that echoes throughout the office. Drops of sweat run down his forehead and down your back, but it feels like lava that burns to the bone.

"I-… I feel so good…" your speaking so slurred, because it's hard to talk with his clothes in your mouth, but you're so pleased that you can't control yourself. "William!"

You can't help but moan in surprise when he gets up from his chair, holding your ass, his cock still inside. It even hurts. William lays you on his desk, takes off his glasses and puts them next to a sign with his fake name on it. You dare to look at his face. He's just as horny as you are. Without glasses, he looks a little different, grey strands stuck to his sweaty forehead, hair slightly messy.

William puts his tie in your mouth, you almost choke. Afton leans down, brushes his lips against your collarbone, so sensually. In response, you wiggle your hips, trying to get him to move. William is grinning at you, at your pleading eyes. He begins to hammer in your pussy. You cry out as loud as you can, but fortunately, the tie shuts you up, leaving only indistinct "please." His hands squeeze your ass until it bruise as he thrusts into you.

William stretches you out just fine, thrusting into your cunt fast, which makes it seem like desk under you is about to break. You're afraid of accidentally hitting his glasses, you don't want unnecessary sounds. William is so damn tensed up, you realize that in all this time he has never broken eye contact with you. His cock reaches deeper when you just thought it was impossible and tears flow from your eyes. William smears two fingers with his saliva and lays them to your clit, your pussy clench around him. His fingers move sweetly and slowly, pressing on your bundle of nerves that it drives you crazy. Your legs are wobbly, blood is boiling.

"Do you want me to cum inside you, baby?" the question isnt scary at all, because your brain doesn't work. Your red, tear-stained face responds him. You just nod frantically, trying to say yes, but tie doesn't let. William smiles, runs the pad of his thumb over your clit. "Your cunt clenching around me like that, begging me to fill you up. Damn perfect."

He leans closer to your face. Poor thing, he wants to end your sweet torments, to give you what you crave. Clenching your tie between your teeth, you arch and cry, unconsciously moving your pelvis towards him. William's legs bend slightly as his thrusts become more chaotic. He keeps fucking into you, groaning softly. William wants to say so much dirty things to you, but he can't. He can't be loud, he can't be heard, no need to ruin his reputation. Let others continue to think that he's a good father, an amazing career counselor, an ideal person who helps others. And you… and you're just his little assistant, who brings coffee to his office. Let everyone think so.

Warm liquid filling you, and at first you don't even realize what it is as you cum. His fingers caress your clit with gentle circle movements while you try to bring your legs together, but eventually wrap them around him, only driving him deeper into yourself. William is unable to hold back heavy sighs, still continuing to thrust, until he sees that his cum is already flowing out of you down to the floor. Your tired eyes and his tie in your mouth, all covered with your saliva, cause him an evil smile. This day couldn't be better, today everything is going too well.

"You did so well, Y/n," he breathes with relief, running his fingers over your face and taking the tie out of your mouth. "you extended your little sister's life by one more day. By the way, tell her hi from mr. Raglan."

[tinycozycomfort]

some quiet evenings

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

summary: If he wasn’t so far away all the time, working and worrying and wracked with undeserving guilt, you’d disassemble him completely—down to the fucking marrow.

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, sub!mike, the tone? they're in love, underwear play, c*ck grinding, finger sucking, pet names (baby, honey, etc), the socks stay on, criminally gratuitous descriptions of how good-looking this man is

word count: 2k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: huge thank you to @cupofjoel for these amazing fics that were a direct contributor to me watching the movie (and then subsequently falling into a lore hole) and to @pascalisbaby for listening to me fumble my way through this!!

main masterlist

Mike is always tired when he gets home. 

Tired like the weight of his body is too much to bear, eyes wet and just-open like a seam that’s freshly split. He hangs at the end of his own rope, slumped on the line of his spine, damp across his brow as he sits and undresses at the corner of the bed. 

You don’t question him when he says it’s nothing, when he mumbles something about work being a lot of pressure and just needing to make it through the end of the week. For something so mundane—watching unwanted property—it seems off; still you kneel at his back to help him shrug off the lip of his vest and hoodie and creased t-shirt with nothing more than a sigh.

“Didn’t mean to put this on you. I know you work as much as I do—more, even,” his head lolls down towards his lap, fingers sweeping his face as he shrinks with guilt, “I just need to figure out some money for another babysitter so I can actually sleep and you can actually see me and—” 

“It’s okay. Don’t know how many times I’ll have to tell you before you believe me.” 

He works at the clasp of his pants before you can—another thing he feels the need to take responsibility for, right now—bending at the waist enough to pool them at his ankles, socked feet tapping the ground inside their halos. Nervous, like always, high-strung and erratic for reasons you can’t begin to pull out of him. 

“And everything with Abby, she just… I worry about her.” 

“She’s asleep down the hall. Got her to eat and everything. You need to worry about yourself, too, y’know.” You widen your thighs, straddling the base of his hips, left hand curling to cradle the strip of skin between his shoulder and neck. He’s warm there, too, tacky and tense when you tuck your pointer up against his jaw. “Look at me, Mike.” 

He refuses at first, pushing back against your guidance, reserve strong in the face of shame.

In return, you press harder into him, doubling down, dimpling the underside of his chin in an effort to halt his retreat.

“No,” he whispers, insistent. 

Something hot swirls in the core of your spine at his defiance, as small as it is loud, the corner of your lip tugging up in response. He can’t see you, hiding like this, but it’s like he can feel it, knocking a shoulder up to shield himself even more. 

He likes this game, you’ve realized—where you let him have his fit just to reel him back in, to prove to him he’s wrong. That special kind of attention to detail—the laborious care of taking the time to peel back his doubts to get to the tender meat of his heart, just to string up your favorite pieces of him as you go. Declarations is maybe the most correct way to put it; he likes to earn the kind of love he can hang on the fridge.

You lean in behind him, cheek brushing the hair at his temple, and his guise falters, body unfurling on instinct. What a sweet man he is, naked save for the rings of fabric on and at his feet, the thin veil of his boxers—the latter failing to hide his own interest. Opening for you like he needs to.

You drag your nose across his lobe, the flesh there raising in little welts, “You do know how much I worry about you, right? How much I want you to relax? Don’t you want that, too?” 

He swallows hard, wrist twisting in his lap—restraint, you think, or warning; Mike, ever-courteous, letting you know he’s reached his threshold, fizzing over the top. 

“What do you think I could do to make you feel better, honey?” You run the bend of your free hand along his inner thigh, chest flush to his back so you can reach the fold of his knee. 

Mike shudders, short puffs of air jutting out of his open mouth. The grip you have on his neck tilts, wrapping your thumb over the knob of his jaw, longer fingers spreading out so you can curve one between his lips. He licks at it, tongue soft where he sucks you in, skipping the gentle work-up to get to his favorite part—more tired than you thought, then.

“I don’t want to have to choose for you, but I will.” You rub the inside of his cheek like you can coax the words out, “C’mon.” 

“You could—I want, fuck. I want to be inside you.” 

The papery t-shirt clinging to your back stretches, looped material around your hips tacked down by the trickle of slick that seeps out at his words. You were ready for bed when he arrived,  more thankful than ever to have nothing else between you and his body, now that he’s ready for something else.

You drag your wandering hand across where he’s straining, hot and heavy, his only reaction a gentle tug of teeth on your knuckle, a too-deep inhale that inflates his chest. Mike’s hands sit limp where they’re glued to his thighs, waiting patiently for your next instruction, seeing if you’ve decided to grant him his request. 

It’s not until you wedge your hand free to toy at the waistband of his boxers that he sets into motion, raising off the sheets and letting you strip him of his last shred of modesty, just the slouched cuffs of his socks left clinging to him.

His cock is hard—angry—coming down on his stomach with a dull thud, a sticky pull of precome following in its wake. The muscle under his torso jumps at the impact like he forgot it was even there, too focused on what’s coming next, sold on the prospect of something better. 

You guide a leg down the slope of the bed, planting yourself on the floor by his side. He takes the hint, pushing himself higher up on the sheets and resting his weight on the flat of his elbows behind him, quick to obey.

You take your time climbing along him, bracketing him from the front this time so you can take in the full image of his want. He’s flushed across his cheeks, his neck—even the little reliefs in the skin under his eyes are touched by pink. Lips shining, hair clumped with wet at the root—he’s the kind of beautiful he doesn’t even know he’s capable of, sleepy and misty and shaky when you run your fingers against his jaw—still damp from his own mouth—marveling at the rounded edges that find their way in his angular face. 

If he wasn’t so far away all the time, working and worrying and wracked with undeserving guilt, you’d disassemble him completely—down to the fucking marrow. Clip him off at every joint just to piece him back together. 

“Pretty,” you mumble, mostly to yourself, but you know he hears it when he preens, eyes fluttering and chest squeezing tight in a long exhale.

You loop a thumb through the center of your underwear, swinging it out to fit his cock in with you, settling into his lap more firmly so that the split of your cunt presses against him. He’s trapped there, between your heat and his belly, the whine that slips out of him involuntary but solid. 

When you start to move, working up a rhythm, he spits out something like fuck, fuck yes and you nod to feign understanding.

“Oh, is this what you meant? You wanted to be inside here?” You rock into his hips with purpose, the thick shape of him rubbing at your clit like it’s all he was made for, like being inside you wouldn’t even be an idea if he couldn’t take care of you in every other way first. 

“No.” 

“First yes, now no? You have to make your mind up, baby. You’re not giving me enough to work with, here.”

“Yes. This is–yes.” 

He starts to meet you halfway without thinking, grinding up into the cradle of your body in search of a better way to communicate than words. 

“So you don’t want to fuck me?” 

Mike whines at that, the breakout of red reaching the very edges of his face, bleeding down into his collarbones. He regains some sense of his own body, then, hands fumbling up until they slot above the crease of your thigh, rubbing firmly at your hip bones. Pleading.

You tuck your knees into his side to help him along, ribs stinging where your efforts begin to hurt, happy anyway to push him closer to the edge. A thick lick of heat rises in your chest, the seat of your pelvis, flaring white when you watch him fight for something to say.

“I do—I did, I just. This is perfect. You’re perfect.” He’s panting in between each word, pressing himself to you to punctuate his point, “I’m going to come just like this, if you’ll let me.” 

It’s not so spelled out, but he is asking for permission—as he always does—and it sounds like an apology more than anything else. For being selfish, you know he’ll say; for taking his pleasure exactly like you’d asked him to.

You swipe at the curls that are starting to twist at the base of his neck, both for leverage so you can match his pace and to point out another facet of him that falls perfectly into your liking, the glide easier with how much you’ve coated him in that same favor. 

The hand you’d hooked into him earlier finds his lips again, slipping in with no resistance, passing harshly against his molars and tongue. 

Mike is eager to glean as much fondness as he can off the skin, closing his mouth and sucking fervently. 

“Go ahead, then. Said you needed to relax, didn’t I? We’ve got all morning.”

Something flashes in his eyes that reads horribly like but what about work?, as if now would be the time to worry over your schedule—as if anything could be more important than the way his cock swells in anticipation despite the thought. 

You redirect the anxiety, not wanting his orgasm to fall flat after all the convincing it took to lead him here, “You have all morning to make it up to me.”

His grip around your middle tightens, suffocatingly so, brows drawing tight, tilting his head so he can take in more of your fingers to slide his tongue against the underside of your palm as he comes in warm threads of slip. 

He makes a mess of your chests and the already soaked-through film of your underwear, legs shaking under you as he breathes his way down. 

You release yourself from him with a pop, squeezing lightly at his cheek as he cracks a meek smile. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, freshly shy like he hadn’t been aware of what just occurred, so inside his mind he’d left his body, “I didn’t mean to not be able to, um—” 

“Fuck me?” 

He’s fully glowing by now, this time because of the weight of your accusation, loosening a little only when he sees you grinning back at him. You lean in, pecking at the corner of his mouth to not interrupt his irregular breaths, allowing him just a moment of error before appealing to the side of him that rids him of his nerves, “Get to it, then, if you’re so worried about it.”

[bratphilia]

the flip side (m. schmidt x reader x w. afton)

note: remember that mike fic i wrote where i mentioned his voyeurism kink? here we go.

pairing: mike schmidt x reader x steve raglan / william afton

tags: bondage/restraints (both m/f receiving), gagging (m receiving), cuckolding/voyeurism, doggy style, spanking, dubcon, dom!william, sub!reader + mike

mike awoke to a low whistling sound. the last thing he remembers is dreaming the same dream he's been having his entire life, except this time, instead of ghost children leaving cryptic messages for him, all he could hear was your voice in the distance crying out to him for help. when his eyes opened and he gained consciousness, he found himself in a nightmare beyond anything he's ever experienced in his sleep before.

it was you, blindfolded, completely stripped nude and handcuffed, laying on your stomach on an old mattress on the floor. he seemed to be in a dark basement. before he could think he tried to call out your name and lunge himself towards you, but he was halted realizing he was gagged by a cloth and restrained around his chest and wrists. he was completely powerless.

"ah, good," a cheery, oddly familiar voice calls, "you're finally awake."

steve raglan, his fucking job counsellor, steps into his line of vision. "we almost got started without you."

mike wanted to demand what the hell was going on, but he can only punctuate it by wriggling aggressively in his restraints. steve only laughs at his helplessness.

"you just couldn't leave it alone, could you?" steve asks rhetorically, and mike had no idea what he's referring to, but he has an inkling it has to do with freddy's, because what else could this be about? "so i decided to take something from you." he gestures toward you. your eyes are squeezed shut with tears rolling down your face. mike looks at you pitifully. he hates to see you cry, especially now that he can't do anything about it.

"as you may have guessed by now," steve rambles on, starting to unbutton his shirt and strip himself from his trousers, "i'm going to use your little girlfriend, and you're going to watch. completely powerless to stop it."

you begin to sob. "no...! please, don't..."

"shut the fuck up!" steve's tone switches so easily. he walks over to you and grabs you by your cheeks and bends down to your level, whispering something mike can't hear, but you obviously don't like the sound of it as more tears run down your face.

steve turns to address mike again. "now, any preferred positions?"

mike only blinks. did he really just fucking ask him that?

"oh, wait!" steve laughs, like him being gagged and unable to answer is the funniest thing in the world.

"she sure is gorgeous. you picked a good one," steve comments, making mike's blood boil. no one should call you that, only him. "let's see... what about you, princess?"

you sniff. "just... get it over with." mike's heart breaks slightly at your lack of resistance, but he understands that steve is probably going to kill you if you don't submit to him.

steve frowns. "well that's no fun."

he walks around the mattress, observing you, while you bury your face into the cushiony surface, embarrassed. "i think i'll make this easy for you two. i'll just take you from behind, sweet girl."

"mmph!" mike cries out against the cloth. he's violently rattling against the restraints, desperate to break free.

steve just chuckles at his futile attempt. "don't hurt yourself, kid."

he kneels down on the mattress and adjusts you to his liking: bent on your stomach so your ass is in the air. steve immediately sticks his cock inside of you and doesn't even give you a grace period to adjust.

something inside mike's stomach stirs. it's a... pleasurable feeling. but one he can't relieve, so it's even more so frustrating.

you cry out loudly. grasping desperately at the fabric of the mattress but your grip keeps coming loose due to the rough physicality of which steve is handling you in.

"please!" you practically scream. "please, i can't take it!"

steve just laughs, almost evilly. "you hear that mike? hear your girl beggin' for me?"

mike lets out a grunt. he can feel his pants tightening. as much as he hates to admit it, he's getting aroused off of this.

the room is filled with the noises of skin slapping, steve's grunts and groans paired with incessant moaning. it was all overwhelming to mike. he shut his eyes, trying to block off the tirade of steve's praises — his 'good girl's, 'yes baby's, 'take it for daddy's, and so on — and tries to focus on the noises tumbling uncontrollably from your mouth. he starts bucking his hips to create friction by rubbing his dick against the fabric of his pants.

mike doesn't realize it but muffled, quiet whimpering noises are coming from him. however, steve notices.

"oh, you sick fuck. you like that, huh? like watching a stranger fucking your girlfriend, huh?" steve asks with a wide smile on his face. then he grips you by your hair so you can look at him. "look at him, sweetheart. see how pathetic he is? he's getting off to this."

fuck, your eyes. mike comes from that alone. he stops bucking his hips and just watches you listlessly, in true post-orgasm-clarity fashion. steve's grunts grow louder and more ravenous, until he eventually reaches his own orgasm. he pulls out of you and spills his seed all over your lower body. steve sits down on his knees at the edge of the mattress while you lay there, crying and shaking.

"i might have to keep you two," he says, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

[despapillon]

having Will be abused by his father, bullied and shamed for his sexuality, kidnapped by a psycho monster, searched for an entire season all while he struggles to stay alive in another dimension, rescued, have to live with the trauma, bullied now also for being a 'zombie', possessed by an evil eldritch creature, manage to break free of it’s influence just for a little bit thanks to his loved ones to send them a message knowing it means sacrificing himself too, get burnt by a fire poker, be in a way involved in the deaths of ppl including his mom’s bf that could have became a father to him, get separated from the creature but still have a connection to the other dimension and a freaky balding serial killer that mentally tortures kids, have to watch his friends dismiss him in favor of their gfs when he just wants to play games and is afraid of growing up and have them try to rush through a dnd campaign he put effort into yet they act bored and make a joke out of it, when he points out he is hurt his crush makes a jab at his sexuality while dismissing his concerns and acting as if he’s wrong for just wanting to hang out with friends, get so broken by this situation to the point he uses a bat to destroy what was a safe place for him to stay when he was a child and pictures of him and his friends, never get an apology from Mike for all of this, then have to move to Cali and get separated from everyone, when he is there barely get calls from Mike while El gets tons of letters but he is too anxious to reach out to Mike himself because let’s be honest considering how he got treated by him in season 3 it’s a reasonable fear to have, when Mike finally visits he tries to hug but instead gets an awkward pat-or-whatever-the-fuck-that-was, have to watch Mike and El be all cutesy and straight up just going on a date while he tags along in the background knowing El is deceiving Mike, then after she gets viciously bullied get accused of being a douche to her, when he brings up he was a third wheel and Mike didn’t reach out to him he gets dismissed again, finally gets an apology and gains hope to the point he gains courage to take the painting but then decides to sacrifice his happiness and give it to Mike and lie to him because he thinks Mike can never love him and wants to make him feel better by disguising his feelings as supposedly El’s with the whole interaction making him breakdown all nextto Mike that doesn’t notice while his brother watches it all, have to watch El close to dying and hear Mike admitting his life started when he met El which is during the period Will got kidnapped to another dimension and then come back to Hawkins and witness the start of an apocalypse only to………

just die in season five? that’s it? why would anyone think that is the ending meant for Will? they won’t kill him, no way.

[highhhfiveee]

please i need some dubcon mike schmidt ..,,, like he picks up drunk reader from a party n takes her home n fucks her throat ..,,, ‘you’re so easy to control when you’re all stupid like this’ ..,,, she’s got tears streaming down her face n she’s clawing at his thighs but he just holds her head in place n strokes her hair n tells her how good she’s making him feel ,,

okay okay okay. shiver me fuckin timbers lmaoooo. this is so brothersbestfriend!mike. switched it up a little but i hope you still enjoy! [had this set to post at 12 but tumblr failed me lmao]

sangria

pairing: brothersbestfriend!mike schmidt x blackfem!reader wc: 4k tags: brothersbestfriend!mike, fem!reader, intimate touching, choking, wild dick sucking, deep throating, spitplay, degradation, dubcon (reader is plastered, and while she does consent to be taken advantage of, she is still under the influence); mike is such a protector and i'm starting to think that this is megasub!reader x protector!mike in addition to bbf! [let me know if i missed anything + this has been proofread but there’s always still a chance for mistakes lmao]

link to the original fic, mimosa, here 🍹, and the first part of the finale here, tequila sunrise, here 🍸

okay, so maybeeeeeee you two didn't actually get caught that day.

you’re panting in each other’s faces as you come, clean yourselves off, and exit the shed like your brother's best friend hadn't made you squirt all over the garden tools and pool supplies.

the feeling of mike's come pooling in your bikini bottoms makes you tingly all over again, and you're squirming while you both ease your way back into the fold of cookout attendees, diverting into separate paths so no one can catch onto your attachment; clandestine and kept between the eyes, lips, and bodies of you two only.

you'd wished mike nothing but hell while you were away at school, doing anything you could to get the thought of him out of your head. even though you'd been the one to catch feelings, you never wanted him to have any part of you ever again, restricting him from you.

you'd wanted him erased from the entire galaxy then, but from the cookout forward, nothing excited you more than the thought of being mike’s plaything. you snuck around with him more than you should've; giving him handjobs in the backseat of his car, letting him eat you out in your bedroom with the door open---risky things that made your heart pound with adrenaline and need, a rush to the very end.

you could only get that feeling with mike. it made you sick to your stomach with taboo butterflies, fantasizing about all the ways he could have you thrashing, eyes rolling back, toes curled until your feet cramped.

he'd hooked you on him once again, and this time, he'd decided to go with the flow. he wasn't pursuing anything with anyone else, and feelings had begun to bloom in him. nothing like love, he'd told himself (even though your flirty smile made his heart palpitate before making his dick hard), but like...safeguarding.

you were young, unversed with life, vulnerable; mike could see people taking advantage of you, mistaking your soft, impish act for total naivete. even though he'd hurt you himself, he'd never allow anyone else to treat you that way, or put you in a situation to harm you. there was this urge in him to keep you safe, keep you protected from the mean world that ate girls like you for breakfast.

mukrrrrrrrrrrrr

molwwwwwwwwww

gahdmn i cant tYpe LoL

exhibit a.

y/n are you drunk

….

………..

…………………………….

y/n

4 F R E E dwinks

downnnnnnnnn thw hATCH

pArTyz rool xp

mike's about to ask about your location when your picture floods his screen, phone vibrating in his hand with a call. he answers it with a displeased, "where are you?

"she’s at 8203 harrington circle," someone yells over loud, bass-riddled music and scattered conversations. mike hopes it's a friend of yours, and not a complete stranger. “she was fine, but i think that fourth drink tipped her over!"

mike's been putting on clothes and grabbing for his keys and wallet since your first text message, already sulking to his car as your friend finishes her statement. "stay with her and keep her upright, i'll be there in fifteen."

he can't get rid of the deep scowl etched on his face while he drives, both hands clasped tensely on his wheel at ten and two. he wants you to have fun, of course. he isn't going to tell you not to go to parties, or not to drink---you’re your own person, and he has no right to tell you what you could and couldn't do, but something about you utterly hammered around so many people you probably don't know makes his heart pound against his ribcage with agitation.

harrington circle was a street on a state school campus, one that you'd opted not to go to all that time ago. maybe you'd known some people there, but mike was sure you didn't know your way around, where to go if something went wrong...

he pulls up to a tall, red brick house smack dab in the middle of a cul-de-sac, immediately throwing his car in park and exiting when he sees two girls walking alongside a guy carrying you out the front doorway. he has his hands hooked under your armpits, pushing your boobs together and "covertly" staring at your amplified cleavage as he leads you down the short stone path.

your head lulls back a little, and you're smiling up at the sky with your eyes closed and your cheeks flushed to death. your legs drag under you, and mike's quick to grab for your waist, removing you from that perv's grasp with haste and a grimace.

you droop into him, body leaden with alcohol, and he slides one arm under the back of your knees, bending his own to lift you into a bridal style hold.

you squeal as he turns away from the house, throwing your arms around his neck and dreamily sighing at the way his hands feel carrying you, strong and vigilant and possessive. "mikeeeeeee," you mewl, pulling yourself into him so you can nudge at the column of his throat. your words are slurred almost beyond comprehension, and he commands one of the girls to open the passenger door so he can ease you inside.

he sets you down in the seat, or at least tries to, whispering, "let me go" when you keep your arms wrapped around him. the position has him hunched over, and it hurts his back so badly, but you whimper, "nooooo, want you close" while nearly making him trip and fall across you, splaying his entire body over yours. he smells so good, all warm and musky and mike, and you don’t want to separate from him.

"y/n, please. i wanna get you home," he reaches back to wrench your arms off of him, placing them in your lap and closing the door before you can complain. he walks around the front to the driver's side, monotonously thanking the girl who'd helped you as he grumpily enters the car.

he grabs for your seat belt, stretching it across your torso as he does his own and drives away from the annoyingly illuminated house and party commotion in silence.

you're so gone, but even drunk, it's unsettling to you how quiet mike is, keeping his eyes focused on the road without a hint of a glance or a word to you. his jaw is clenched deeply, and he's stiff as a board against his seat, so opposite from his usual sullen, suave nonchalance. you frown at him, fingering with your strappy, well-tied sandals. "hey, grumpy,"

"not grumpy," you huff at his tone, sour and unwavering, and wiggle your toes as you finally free them from the entrapment of footwear. "i'm fine."

"you've gotten very, very bad at lying," you demur. your head slacks again, but this time against your headrest. you ogle mike through the film in your eyes, digging your teeth into your bottom lip. "mad at me?"

mike writhes in his seat, his jaw muscles flexing at your coy lilt. you know how to manipulate him with your words, sweetening them in just a way that would have mike bending to your will. the way you're gazing at him with your big, unfocused eyes makes him makes him press down on the gas a bit harder.

"i'm not mad," he mutters, all pseudo-nonconfrontational and collected, but you know that he's not telling the truth. something about the circumstances bothers him, and you want to know why. the car comes to a stop at a red light, mike shaking his head as he scrunches his face and rubs his eye with a knuckle. "forget about it."

"i won't. don't like me having fun without you?" he doesn't answer, staring ahead at the empty streets around the two of you. it was so late, nearly 2 am, and it only fuels the exasperation he feels burning in his stomach. he doesn’t like you out here like this, without him to keep you out of harm’s way.

"is it the drinking?" you pout, frustrated with the way he's ignoring you. "i admit, maybe four drinks was overkill, but i feel sooooo good. my body feels like..." you make a subtle buzzing noise, similar to tv static, and cut it off with a giggle, reaching over for one of mike's hands while the light turns green.

you inch it towards your lap, dragging it across the skin of your thigh that skims the end of your skirt, mini and gold and matching with the white corset top you wore. "you should feel."

"y/n..."

"c'mon mike," you pout again, dipping his hand between your opened legs. you let out an astounded moan when his cold fingertips connect with your bare clit, and now he's scowling at the fact that you’re not wearing any panties. he thinks about how many people would keep note of that, combined with your docile, inebriated state, and see it as a way in. it’s clear, with how those drinks have you begging him to ease his fingers into you, caressing your tight, warm walls so he can add another check to "car" on the list of places he's made you squirt. “don't want you to be mad at me anymore."

"i'm not mad at you, y/n," he finally says, fingers still against your skin. you're soaking his seats, the excess of your slick dripping down to the cloth, and he has to pull himself out of thinking about someone else feeling you in this way. his eyes stay low on the road as he continues, "did you know anyone at that party?"

"mhm, like one person." mike sighs, a low grumble in his throat. he pulls his hand away from you, putting all of his attention on driving so he can get home. he just wants you inside, away from the world and in his charge. he doesn't say anything for a long while, eventually taking a deep breath and mumbling, "just want you safe, y/n. i'm glad you called me to come get you. there are bad people out there, and i don’t trust them in situations like this.”

"yeah," you purr, leaning against the center console and resting your head on the side of his seat. "you're my knight in shining armor, hmm? keeping me away from all the bad bad people looking to destroy messed up princesses like me?"

mike side eyes your tone, nearly scolding you for treating it like a joke and not something that could actually happen.

"...that's one way to put it, but seriously—-“

"wanna be destroyed though," you interrupt, unbuckling your seatbelt once he cuts the car off in the driveway. he’s turning to you, dark eyes gazing towards your pouted lips. you're reaching your hand across his lap, massaging it over the press of him in his sweatpants. “especially by you. wanna be your little fucktoy. let you use my messy holes however you want because they're yours."

your filthy mouth and shameless confession have mike turned on and hard and thinking about how you've called your holes his. he's seeing you bent over the couch, stuffed to the hilt with his fingers pressed against your tongue while he smirks down on you, veins coursing with lust. he squeezes at your hand, and says,

"let's get you inside, okay? then we can talk more about my messy fucking holes."

you're dizzy, giving him a big, woozy smile and letting all the craving you feel inside pour out through your glazed over eyes when he swoops you up again, carrying you and your shoes to his front door. your arms are back around his neck, and you're placing soft kisses on his lips, jaw, and chin as he drops your shoes by the entrance and carries you all the way to the couch, settling his body into one of the corners.

you're adjusting yourself on him so your bare mound drips over his thighs, and he's got his hands around your hips again, digging his fingers into your flesh as you mindlessly grind against him. you're still kissing against his lips, so uncoordinated and sloppy, and he pulls on the wispy strands at the nape of your neck, disconnecting you from him so he can leer at you with a look that tells you he will be destroying you tonight, guaranteed. "no panties was really bold of you, baby."

"can’t have panty lines in this skirt," you frown, placing your hands on mike's shoulders for leverage to move on him a bit harsher, eventually grazing them over his back and arms as you do. "not cute."

"but it's really not cute for you to have my holes on display for anyone to have, especially not when you're like this."

"mikey, please,” you coo, hunching down to press wet, suctioned kisses on mike's bare neck and rolling your hips into the weight of him. he feels so good against you, and you're aching, the alcohol sending shocks to your clit with every second of friction. "want you in me or something. no more talking, just use—-.”

"aht, don't rush me. trying to get you to understa---" one of your hands goes from roaming his shoulderblades to placing pressure around his throat, shocking him stiff against the back of the couch.

he doesn't think anyone has ever choked him before, and while his eyes burn at you with frenzied astonishment, you're causing him to have a revelation. his dick pulses against the material of his sweatpants at the feeling of your dainty hand squeezing his throat, and he's reaching to grab your wrist and bring your hand down before he comes all quick like he’s 18 again. you stop him with your other hand, coming in close to his face.

there's such a ferocity in your stare, and he knows that you're not going to let him lecture you all night. you need him to fuck you, need him to do something with you and your drunken arousal.

"are you really gonna keep talking, or would you rather just fuck my throat?" you slide your arms down his back, lips placed by his ear as you whisper, "show me how depraved people really can be when i'm like this."

he knows it's sick, but it doesn't take much past that for mike to have you on all fours beside him on the couch, back arched into a 45 degree angle as you drool all over his lap. you're begging for it, whining about how good he feels in your mouth, and he doesn't want to miss an opportunity to give you something you want, even though you're in this state. he's glad that it's him using you in this scenario, and not someone genuinely looking to hurt you. it's his rationale for giving in to your immoral desires.

you pull away from your mess with a sharp inhale, your jaw trembling as you sit up and give mike an eager, spit-slick smile. your eyes are even more distant than before, and it's almost like you’ve checked out. mike can see all the brashness and attitude you give him on the regular is gone, currently replaced with servitude and the intent to please, nothing less.

"wanna feel you ruin my throat, mike," you rasp, grabbing his dick in your hand and stroking at the soft skin, suckling on his tip as you flash him the hunger you feel inside through a grin. "please."

he's silent, having a quarrel with himself as he takes in your blank, mindless expression. it’s so wrong of him, but you look so pretty like this, and he reaches out to hold your cheek as you pout at him again.

"pleaseeeeee," you whine, tears nearly welling in your eyes. "want you to wreck me, use me however you wanttttt. gonna be your obedient, drunk little whore, do whatever you ask."

mike loses all resolve then, and demands you to drop to your knees in between his own. you're quick to assume the position, letting him put one hand on the back of your head and feed his dick into your throat.

"shouldn't like this," mike mutters, wrapping your hair up into a ponytail with both of his hands, watching you rub his dick over your face after slipping it from your mouth to spit on it. he almost can't take you like this, spacey and pliant and all his to destroy. so drunk and willing and--- "shouldn't let me take advantage of you like this."

your face is stained with tears and spit, streaks of dried liquid overlaying your burning cheeks and swollen lips. the neckline of your top is soaked too, saliva glistening on your chest.

"maybe i wanted it," you muse, winking leisurely as you wrap both of your slim hands around his base, smirking up at him. "maybeeeeeee i went and got plastered cause i knew you’d come get me if i called," you're feeding him into your mouth again, and without warning, mike is holding your head stationary, shoving his hips up into your warm mouth while you gulp every time he hits the opening to your throat. of course you'd do something like this. your admittance makes mike feel a plethora of things, good, bad, ugly, but right now, all he's focused on is making you feel like the toy you wanted to be.

"you're a fucking slut, y/n," he hisses with gritted teeth, throwing his head back as he feels you open up for him, allowing him to raise his hips and sink further into you.

the muscles of your throat flutter around his length, and it makes his toes curl, tangling together in his socks. "only sluts go to a party to get drunk so they can be turned into pretty little fuckdolls later...like being fucking mindless for me, huh?"

"love it, mike," you whimper, laying your tongue flat so his dick can slip in and out of your mouth with less resistance. it's covered in thick spit, a droplet resting on the tip, and mike leans down to collect all of it in his own mouth with a sloppy, obscene kiss, before releasing it all over his pelvis with a groan.

it was a fucking mess, and he loved it. he knew you loved it like this too, and your enjoyment of the raunchiness is reflected in the way you patiently wait for him to plunge his dick in you, eyes twinkling with everything and nothing at the same time.

your hand is moving under your dress, fingers stroking along your sodden walls, but he doesn't care; not when your eyes are rolling back into your skull as his dick infiltrates your throat again, filling the room with a persistent gluckgluckgluck as he rhythmically slams your face into his base.

you're sure you'll have no voice after this, but fuck, will it be worth it. you're basking in every second of this, so happy you decided to go out tonight. you were unexperienced in some ways, but you knew how to get to people, or at least to mike. you could get him to do whatever you wanted under the guise of him being in control, and all it took was a bit of sweetening with your voice, a flutter of your eyelashes and a crooked, "innocent" smile for mike to be wound your finger, abusing your face in a way you shouldn’t have dreamt of. you're running out of breath, and your fingers dig into his thighs with the message, but he ignores you, gripping your hair so that your mouth gently snaps up around him every time he pulls his hips back. the sensation is godly, and mike's not sure if he deserves this really. you'd fallen so hard for him at one point, and he'd crushed your hope to be with him under his thumb, but now you're here, letting him have you like this despite those memories. he's lucky, for whatever force is keeping you in his orbit.

"letting me do this to you while you're fucked up...letting some older guy take your throat like you're just free use...you're not getting into heaven," you laugh around him, forming your mouth into a makeshift smile as he slowly slides you off of him, overstimulated by the ridges of your throat muscles clinging to him. he doesn't want to come on your face, not this time. he wants you to beg for him to come in you, for him to fill you until you're overflowing, leaking down your thighs while he gives you more and more and more and more...

"i know," you mewl, pretty face smeared with saliva and pre-come. "i'll be in hell with you. wouldn't have it any other way." mike sits up, thumbing at your bottom lip and hissing as you unhinge your jaw and suck the tip of it inside. your eyes are getting dimmer by the second, but you're still wanting everything mike can give you.

he won't stop until you say so, and he strangely finds himself buzzing with lust at the thought of you bossing him around for his pleasure and yours. how had you gotten in his head like this?

"go in my room and strip, baby. sit in the middle of the bed and don't move." you're on your feet in a flash, clumsily dashing down the short hall without a look back.

it gives him time to get some towels, a washcloth to clean your face up, some lube, and grab waters for the both of you, thinking about all the ways he's gonna contort you. he might even make you watch in the mirror, make you take in your glassy eyes and lack of autonomy, the way you're letting him, your brother's best friend, have you in such an obscene way.

he cracks the door open with all the items in hand, and scoffs when he sees you naked, but stretched out on the bed, mouth hanging open with soft snores.

he walks over to the edge, dropping the things he's holding onto the comforter and shaking your shoulder softly. "baby," you lurch awake, murmuring "huh?".

you blink the bleariness out of your eyes as he uses one of the towels he brought to wipe off his drenched groin, and he smirks at you. you two are done for the night, and that's fine with him. something about your small figure, safely sprawled against his sheets has him seeing hearts and stars and rainbows and everything else he's tried so hard to push away.

when he's dry, ditching his shirt and boxers, he leans against his headboard, cradling you in his arms and lap as he begins using the washcloth to wipe at the dried spittle on your face. "here," he announces, cracking open a water bottle and bringing it to your lips, tilting it so you're able to get some water between them without much effort.

you swallow the sips he gives softly, wrapping your arms around his neck again. you loved being skin to skin with him, and right now, you felt tranquility.

this is but a fraction of that 100% he wanted to give, you think. something has changed in him, and now he wants to show you care. he still wants you to need him, need him to keep you protected from the world outside while he corrupts you in his own. you want that, too.

"mmmmmmm, you're so boyfriend," you muse, placing pecks on his collarbones as he continues cleaning you up. he's able to maintain a pokerface towards you, wiping at your cheeks with passive strokes, but inside, he feels nothing but chaos. why does he like hearing you call him boyfriend, like having you in his arms like this? why did it all seem to fill a hole in his heart, one he always thought would stay a cavity?

"really do love you, mike," you add, staring at him full on now. you might as well be sober, with your attentive, doe-like eyes. "tried hard not to, but i do."

you've broken him down, so easily, and somehow, he's giving into you with a deep, irrevocable sigh. he has nothing else to do but finally accept the truth.

"me too, y/n. me too."

this was rough for me to write because my brain just couldn't work properly, so i hope it's not the dogshit i think it is lmao hope this satisfies you anon!

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@mikeschmidtgf-@jun1p3rlol-@xyzstar-@aquamarine001-@atrociouslybear

[stop-talking]

Open wide

Mike Schmidt x gender-neutral reader

2.8k words

Tags: 18+, no use of y/n, smut, porn with plot, extremely unrealistic scenario but it's funny, mike is a horny bastard & a sub, handjob (mike receiving), post-movie, mike's POV!

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Mike can't even remember the last time he went to the dentist.

Well, he CAN remember, he just doesn't want to. He was a child the last time he went, and only bits and pieces of the experience stuck with him. An old man poking bony gloved fingers into his mouth, having his teeth scraped with a hook, and being scolded for not brushing good enough.

Yeah. The dentist is not a fond memory for Mike. That's part of the reason he hasn't bothered to go in over ten years. (The other part being that he's spent most of early adulthood broke as fuck; and values groceries over trips to the oral hygienist.)

But with his new job, and the healthcare benefits that come along with it... well, he really has no excuse not to go.

So, he sits in a small room with blue walls and ocean-themed décor, squirming on the weird lounge chair. There's a giant mirror over his head, and he can't help but be reminded of those funhouse mirrors at the circus. The ones that twist and contort your face in an unsettling way.

"Hey, Mr. Schmidt, right?" You make your way through the door, scanning over a clipboard.

Is this the dentist? Mike scrambles to sit up in the awkwardly-reclined chair and hold out a hand for you to shake.

"Uh, just 'Mike' is fine." He gives you a weak smile and a firm handshake before leaning back against the chair once more.

You introduce yourself as a dental assistant, and when he thinks about it, that makes more sense. You look young, probably close to his own age. And... rather attractive, actually.

Fuck. Did you just ask him a question?

"Sorry, I... I'm not sure..." He stutters, doing his best not to squirm under your gaze.

This seems to amuse you, because you try and fail to suppress a chuckle. Shit. Was that the wrong answer?

"You're not sure what flavor of toothpaste you want, Mike?" You ask, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Mike sputters again, making a complete fool of himself. Before he can get out a complete thought, you cut him off.

"It's okay. Want me to just pick for you?"

He nods.

"Alright then, you look like a watermelon kind of guy. Is that fine?"

Another nod.

You smile and pull on a pair of blue gloves, matching your blue scrubs.

"Something tells me you haven't been here before."

"Am I that obvious?"

"Yes... and no. I read it on your medical record just now." You give him a teasing smile and hold up the clipboard you'd been pouring over when you walked in.

Mike laughs nervously at what he's pretty sure was supposed to be a joke, and watches as you pull up a chair.

"I haven't exactly been going to regular checkups." He confesses.

"Well then, let's see what we're working with. Open up for me?"

He squints as you turn on a harsh overhead light attached to the mirror and angle it down so it shines right in his face. Damnit, what is this? An interrogation?

"Open up." You repeat, not asking this time.

Fuck. Why is that kind of...? Ugh, no. Not even going there. Mike tentatively opens his mouth, still blinking through the interrogation-esque lighting above him.

"There you go. A little wider, now."

Your fingers immediately find their way into his mouth, prying his jaws open further.

Mike's eyes go wider than his jaw when you pull out a hook and start scraping it against his teeth. What the fuck? He's feeling more and more like this is some kind of torture and interrogation ritual.

"I know, hun. No one likes the hook. Just relax." You coo, placing a hand on the side of his face and wedging your thumb between his teeth.

He takes a deep breath and melts back into the chair, letting himself be soothed by your voice. Mike tries to focus on your face above him instead of the horrible metal scraping his bones. The backlighting creates a halo around your head as you lean over him, reminding him of an angel.

You seem to notice his staring, because you smile down at him.

"So, tell me about yourself, Mike."

Mike's brow furrows in confusion. How the hell is supposed to answer that with a mouthful of latex-covered fingers and metal torture instruments?

"Uhhh..." He lets out a strained gargle, the only sound he can really make in this moment.

"Interesting..." You chuckle, still scraping away at his teeth.

"Tell me more."

Oh. You're teasing him. Fuck that.

Mike rolls his eyes, trying to make it clear he's not in the mood.

"Sassy, are we? Careful. I do have a hook in your mouth."

Christ. Are you threatening him now? Is this how trips to the dentist are supposed to go? Mike has no idea. So, he lets out another grunt.

"Your teeth actually look really nice. You brush at least twice a day?"

Mike nods slightly, scared to move too much with the hook scraping dangerously close to his gums.

"Good, good. Your teeth are so straight and bright."

Now you're complimenting him? Mike can feel his brain go fuzzy as he stares up into your eyes. The paper mask you're wearing covers the lower half of your face, sure, but your eyes are... entrancing.

He tries to say a quick "thanks", but with your thumb still wedged between his teeth... it comes out as more of an "Aahhh". And sounds suspiciously like a moan. Damnit.

"Got something to say?" You laugh softly, removing your fingers and tools from his mouth.

Mike takes the opportunity to close his mouth and feel over his teeth with his tongue. They feel... different.

"Just, uh, thanks..." He mumbles.

"Of course, you're doing so well."

Fuck. Are his jeans getting tighter?

Mike tries to subtly adjust himself while you turn to grab something off the nearby table. God damnit. This wouldn't happen if he wasn't so damn touch starved.

You put a little hose in his mouth and explain it's to rinse his mouth out. Or something like that. Mike isn't really listening, instead focusing solely on calming the fuck down.

"Oh, and sorry if I'm talking too much. I just transferred over from a pediatric office, so I'm used to having to distract my patients while I work. You probably don't need that, do you?"

He just gargles a response, mouth filling with water.

"Wait, here, don't swallow that."

Mike can't help but think he'd swallow anything if you told him to. Ugh. His jeans are definitely getting too tight.

You stick a different hose in his mouth, and it sucks out the watery saliva mixture.

"You're fine... I haven't been to the dentist since I was a kid, anyways."

"Really?" You ask, eyes lighting up as you lean over him again.

"Y-Yeah."

"Oh, but your teeth look so nice! Keep doing whatever you're doing, hun." You cup his face in your hands, leaning in close and gently pushing his lips back with your thumbs for a better look at his teeth.

Mike squirms slightly, a little intimidated by your firm grip on his face and intense scrutiny of his mouth. He tries to tug the hem of his hoodie down in an attempt to hide his growing boner. Fuck, he feels like such a pervert.

Of course, his movement only draws your attention down to his... ''problem area''.

You must be pretending not to notice, because your eyes flick back over to the table. As you get up to grab something, you casually bump the door with your hip and it swings shut.

What's that for? Mike is too embarrassed to ask, so he just waits patiently as you make your way back over with a toothbrush.

"Open for me." You playfully tap his lips with a finger, and Mike does as asked.

"Good, good... we're almost done here."

Mike feels a lot more relaxed like this. Your voice is soothing, and he stares up into your eyes as you brush his teeth. It's strange to have someone else do it for him, but hey, at least you're not using the damn hook anymore.

After a minute or so of this, he starts to calm down, the tent in his pants dying down as well. Thank god.

"Alright, gonna rinse your mouth again. If you have any needs or concerns regarding your teeth, now's the time to tell me."

Mike gently shakes his head no, mouth filling with water as you rinse his teeth with the little hose.

"You sure? Nothing else you want?"

Are you... flirting with him? Or is this just how these things go? Mike's head spins as you put the toothbrush back in his mouth again.

"Just gonna brush your tongue... Say 'ahh' for me!"

Mike lets out a weak ''ahh'', that, again, sounds extremely similar to a moan. Fuck.

You slowly brush his tongue, going further and further back. Mike starts to shift in his seat, wondering just how much of his tongue he's supposed to be brushing. He certainty never goes this far, it's almost at the back of his throat... Still, he tits his head back slightly, letting you go even deeper.

"Damn. No gag reflex, or just used to this sort of thing?" You tease, smirking so obviously he can see it through the mask.

Okay, yeah. You're definitely flirting with him.

Mike just sputters and chokes in response, unable to speak while practically deepthroating the damn toothbrush.

"Sorry, let me get that out..."

When his mouth is finally his own again, free of intrusive fingers and oral hygiene instruments, he clears his throat. There's a familiar tightness in his jeans, and he's sure by now that you've noticed.

"Uhh... I..."

You take off your mask and he can finally see your whole face again. Your smile is attractive, no doubt, but also a little... hungry? You want something from him.

Mike isn't sure he could resist if you asked.

"So, you're sure there's nothing else... bothering you?" You ask, eyes trailing down to the tent in his jeans.

Ah, fuck. There's no hiding it now, huh? Mike tries to at least sit up slightly in the chair, but ends up a squirming mess instead.

"I..." He starts, swallowing hard.

"Are you offering...?"

As if to answer his unspoken question, you stand up from your chair and throw a leg over his.

He watches with wide eyes as you inch up his legs, straddling him and sitting just below his crotch.

"What do you think?"

Holy shit. What kind of a question is that? He "thinks" this is the hottest thing that's ever happened to him.

"More." He mumbles, bringing his hands up to rest on the sides of your thighs.

That's all the confirmation you need, apparently. Before he can even process what's happening, you're grinding against his clothed cock.

Mike moves his hands up to your hips, watching as you remove the blue latex gloves with your teeth. God, that's got to be the most arousing thing he's ever seen, and he's not even sure why. He feels like a victorian man seeing an ankle. Is he really that goddamn desperate?

You brace your hands against his chest and lean in close, even more so than when you were prodding your fingers in his mouth.

Fuck. Mike decides he is definitely that desperate.

"You want this, don't you?" You ask sweetly, hot breath brushing against his lips.

He nods eagerly. Yes, he wants this. More than anything.

"Use your words, hun."

"I want this." He whines, bucking his hips up to meet yours while you grind on him. "I want you."

"I know." You whisper, bridging the small remaining gap between the two of you.

Mike kisses you back in earnest, moaning into your mouth when he finally feels your tongue slip between his lips.

He'd be content to stay like this forever, if his cock wasn't absolutely aching in his jeans. The grinding feels nice, yes, but he doesn't want to cum like this.

When you finally pull away and sit back up on him, he's left gasping for breath. Holy shit. Is this really happening?

"You really thought I wouldn't notice?" You ask, humming happily as you unzip his jeans.

Mike stammers out a response as you tug his pants down, squirming to help you get them off faster. He wishes you'd take the boxers off too, but he's not gonna push his luck.

"I-I couldn't help It... You're so..." He just looks up at you with pure admiration, letting his hands slide down your thighs.

"...perfect." Yeah, that's just about the only word describe you. No other would do you justice, not with how amazing you look on top of him like this.

"And you're already leaking."

Mike whimpers as you grope his dick, palming at it through his boxers. Fuck, you're not wrong. He can see the wet spot growing on his underwear. He tightens his grip on your thighs, desperate to feel you.

"More." He chokes out. "Please."

"Hmm... should I give you more?" You taunt him, giving his aching cock a firm squeeze through the fabric of his underwear.

"Yes!"

Mike is nearly shouting at this point, and tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He can only pray the room is somewhat soundproof.

"Well, I guess you have been good for me..."

You slowly peel down his boxers, and his dick springs up to slap against his stomach. A steady stream of precum is leaks from the tip, and his back arches from the sudden sensation.

"Fuck... yes... good... so, so good for you..." He bucks his hips up into nothing, desperately pulling you down his lap by your thighs.

He isn't thinking straight at this point. It doesn't matter that you're at work. It doesn't matter you're fully clothed. He needs you on his dick. NOW.

"Woah, woah... slow down, hun." Laughing, you take his hands by the wrists and move them to the armrests.

He doesn't resist, throwing his head back and groaning. He'd let you do whatever you want to him at this point. He just wants to cum.

"Please..." He whimpers, gripping the armrests tightly as your hand inches towards his cock.

"You gonna be good for me? And wait till I give you permission to cum?"

He nods, still bucking his hips up into your hand as you wrap your soft hand around his length.

"Say it." You demand, still just holding it, unmoving as he slips further and further into pure desperation.

"I'll be good f'you. I'll wait. I promise. S'good..."

Mike mumbles a barely-coherent response, half nonsense as he fucks your hand with even more intensity. He's losing it already, and you've haven't even started-

Fuck.

You start to jerk him off at a moderate pace, hand moving in synch with his hips.

"That feel good, hm?"

He just moans a response, too fucked out to form words. His hips stutter and he nearly comes just from the way you're talking to him.

When you take your hand away suddenly, he groans, reaching out to grab your hips and pull you closer. You can't end this for him. Not yet.

Thankfully, you didn't seem eager to put a stop to things. You slide down his lap, resting right up against his cock.

"I swear, if you cum on my uniform, I'll make you lick it all up."

Shit. Mike nearly does just that as you lean down and furiously make out with him. It's the toothbrush all over again, with the way your tongue is punching down his throat. He's never felt this desired before.

One of your hands gently tugs at his curls, and the other pulls his lower back up into an arch as you grind against him. Fuck, If you don't slow down...

"I'm g-gonna... gonna cum..." He breaks the kiss, whining and desperately pushing back on your hips, trying to keep from finishing. He wants to be good for you. He really does.

"Do it." You whisper, moving down to kiss his neck as he whimpers.

"Cum for me."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Mike wakes up in a cold sweat, trembling and gasping for air. Shit, he had been suffocating with his face in a pillow.

And... fuck. Probably jutting his hips into the mattress, too.

He doesn't even have to look at his shorts to know they're ruined. Damnit. Another wet dream. At this point, he almost preferred the reoccurring nightmares. Almost.

Hey, his next dentist appointment is in... what, three months? Maybe this time he'd work up the nerve to ask you out.

Probably not.

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Author's note: I'M SORRY. Literally no one asked for this. Probably no one but me has ever gone "haha what if Mike has a praise kink and gets hard at the dentist". But it was so funny to me?? I had to stop what I was working on and write it IMMIDEATELY. I hope it wasn't too deranged.

I like to imagine his little dream is at least half true. Like, he's touch starved and ended up with an over-friendly oral hygienist who joked with him a little too much. And it made him feel things. But everything from the point of the door being closed and onwards is just his own twisted fantasy.

[cuteskunkz]

╭──────────.★..─╮

One Night With You

╰─..★.──────────╯

(Mike Schmidt x Reader)

Summary~ Mike is a very touch starved man. He spends all his nights at work and the daytime caring for Abby if not sleeping. He hadn't been with a girl since his junior year, making him feel like a total loser. The amount of times where Mike went back and forth with his inner thoughts, convincing himself that he was the problem was getting pretty intense and it was clear that he just needed a night out to clear his mind and prove those thoughts wrong.

You've been a "dancer" for the past few months at the downtown strip club, just trying to make ends meet. There was a tough competition working against you. You were new to this line of work whereas the other girls had been in the game for a while now, but you kept pushing on desperately. How else were you going to make rent or keep the lights on? The nights were slow and building a consistent flow of clientele proved itself to be a challenge, that is until one night when you meet a new guy outside of the nightclub.

Tags~ Stripper reader, Mike is a SIMP!!!, lowkey enemies to lovers but not really, no smut (YET...)

Note~ This took me much longer than I thought since I've been super burnt out of writing lately, but I hope you guys enjoy! As always if there's anything in particular you would like to see in chapter 2, please lemme know

⊱✿⊰

Mike felt confused with the lack of responsibilities and errands to run on this warm summer night. Abby was off at a sleepover and Steve finally hired a second night shift worker, leaving him all alone with his reoccurring self doubt introspections. Dude gets one night for himself and simply cannot think of a single thing to do to pass the time. He laid there in his bed tossing and turning unable to fall asleep. He jolts up feeling frustrated with himself, "Ughh... just fall asleep already bro..." He shifts around in his bed and grunts, "I can't do this-". He sits up and sulks his way into the living room, plopping down on the couch. Mike pulls out his phone and begins to scroll.

He isn't really the social media type but had made an anonymous instagram account a while ago for mindlessly scrolling. After what seemed like hours, Mike stumbles across a video of you. You were practicing a routine for the club, twirling and moving seductively. Mike felt himself grow larger in his pants and put the phone down in shock. He stares up at the ceiling in disbelief, damn you really got him feeling this type of way this quickly? He looks down at his lap and feels helpless. He wrestles with his feelings for a while and ultimately picks his phone back up to look more into you.

He clicks on your account and "researches" a bit. There's multiple videos of you practicing, photos of your skimpy outfits, and the most captivating selfies he's ever seen. One of your posts has a location tagged in the top corner, "Deja Vu Showgirls". He looks further into the club, finding that it's not too far from the pizzeria. "Fuck it. Why not..." he whispers to himself. Mike ensures he's well groomed for the occasion. if you're there he wants make a good impression. He showers, dresses in the best outfit he can come up with, and slaps some product in his hair. He finally felt content with his appearance and hopped in the car.

You weren't surprised to see another night play out typically. Maybe 2 or 3 cheap lap dances and a couple short sets up on the stage for less than 50 bucks. This clearly isn't working for you, at this point you've spent more on outfits and shoes than you've made while working here. An older gentleman walks up to you reeking of alcohol and cheap cologne, you couldn't help but gulp at the thought of providing your services for him. Yeah you were a stripper but you still had standards that made doing your job successfully hard at times.

"Well aren't you something?" he slurs while damn near tipping over from intoxication. You sigh and snap into your persona. "I'd hope so, this outfit ain't cheap y'know!" you reply in a flirtatious tone. You grab him by the hand and lead him to a booth, preparing for the worst. He starts groping on your sides which makes you shudder. Maybe this place isn't for you after all. "H-hands off baby.... Use your eyes and focus on me" you redirect with confidence. Times like these made you wish someone could just scoop you off your feet and save you.

He drives to the location with his heart pounding out of his chest. He'd never been to strip club before so Mike felt nervous even making his way closer to where you have the slightest chance of being at. He pulled into the parking lot and shut his car off abruptly, taking deep breaths to calm his nerves. "What if she isn't here? I don't even know the girl why am I acting so fuckin' weird about this.... I really need to get out of the house more" he thinks to himself while gripping onto the steering wheel. After a few mental pep talks to himself, he finally musters up the courage to get out and make his way in.

Just as he goes to push the door to the club open, you storm out with eyes welling with tears. Mike stumbles back a bit not wanting to startle you. You're holding your pricey Pleaser heels in hand, walking barefoot and trying your best to keep it together. All you want is to curl up into a ball and quit at life. You thought that creepy dude would cheap out on a dance, not grope and hurl insulting names at you for rejecting his advances! You look up from the ground and lock eyes with a man you've never seen before. He's cute... too cute to be wasting his time at some dingy place like this.

"Can I help you?" you snap at him with a shaky voice. It was hard not to notice the concerned look on his face. "No I'm-" he stutters before you promptly cut him off. "Leave me the fuck alone then." His face goes pale hearing you say this, he didn't even get a chance to meet you yet and he feels as if he already blew it. You pace towards your car and pop the trunk, filling it with the all the contents of your locker. You pick a T-shirt out of your duffle bag and drape it over your revealing outfit. His presence is burning a hole into your back so you swiftly turn around to meet his gaze.

He walks over slow and bashfully. There's a pink tint to his cheeks and he can't keep his hands still out of anxiousness. "Dude are you good?" you ask. He looks as if he's going to break a sweat, "Yeah... I'm good. Are you though? You looked pretty shaken up back there." You assumed he was just another guy looking to get lucky with a dancer after a shift change. "Look, if you want to get some action, walk your ass into the club. I'm not who you're looking for" you reply. His stomach drops hearing your voice. It was one thing to see you for the first time, but to hear your voice even if it be out of anger made Mikes head spin. He didn't want to sound like a complete creep stalking you out to your job for a closer look but you were exactly who he wanted.

"That's not why I'm here. Fuck- look... To be totally honest, I'm not a strip club type of dude. I just- I saw a video of you on instagram and I was- y'know... impressed by your talent and beauty." Typical response coming from a man trying to bring a stripper home for the night you think to yourself. "I'm not shocked by your reaction. You realize that's what I hear like- 10 times a night, right?" you say with a sarcastic tone. He seemed a bit more genuine with his words than the others but men will do and say anything when they're in need of a quick fuck. "Not that type of girl sir. Try one of those cheap hookers down the road" you point down the street and close the trunk.

"Please... I know how this sounds, believe me I know how dudes are but-" He sighs and continues, "But I don't have a lot of experience with girls so- I thought coming here... to meet someone new would help" he says looking very serious, almost to the point of desperation. If he weren't so damn handsome you'd turn him down in a heartbeat but something in you is screaming to give him a chance. He seems to be telling the truth and damn is he starting to fluster you with the whole innocent act. "Fine. I'll give you my number but don't you dare think about blowing my phone up." You scribble your phone number into his palm with a pen from your bag and blow him a kiss while getting in your car to drive away.

Mike smirks and waves at you, watching you drive off into the distance. "That was easier than I expected...huh..." he whispers. He gets back into his car and texts you, already so eager to see you again. The message reads:

Hey it's Mike, the guy from earlier. You doing anything tonight? I could take us out to a bar or something? :)

His cheeks start to blush again from imagining you two hanging out. He desperately craves a deeper connection with you but doesn't want to come off as too interested off the bat, it could scare you off for all he knows! His phone dings and he reads it:

Shitttt I'm free as long as you're gonna be on your very best behavior!!

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*Read part 2 and part 3 here!*

It might take me a bit to get part two posted, but I'll try to give you guys as many updates as possible!!! Keep in mind I am a new writer. This is my third fic put out so far :))

[sleepyhutcherson]

batman!mike schmidt headcannons

part 2 | masterlist

pairing: batman!mike schmidt x gn!reader

tags: pervy!mike (watches you get undressed), jealousy, stalker, overprotective, spit kink, choking, being fucked from behind, inspired by pattinson’s batman — 18+, NSFW

author’s note: mike and pattinson’s bruce >> they are literally the same person (in some ways okay?) also i have smut blurb of batman!mike that i’ll probably post to end off my little batman!mike series <3

batman!mike who from the moment he sees you become utterly obsessed with you.

batman!mike first saw you when he was dealing with some men that were attempting to rob the diner you were working at. luckily, you weren’t at the register, but you were there. after dealing with them, his dark eyes met yours for a brief moment. he stared at you, eyes focused on you and you swore you saw a softness to the brown eyes before he left.

batman!mike who researches everything about you from that day on. of course, he goes home to research you in his cave, getting every ounce of information about you: i mean, he also needs your home address to watch over you, duh!

batman!mike who starts showing up outside the diner you’re working at just to…watch you…to make sure you’re not in any kind of danger.

batman!mike definitely keeps a diary but doesn’t write in it too frequently. but once he encounters you he starts writing in it more — you’re mainly what he writes about.

batman!mike is possessive. he’s not really aware of it, honestly. whenever he sees you on the phone or with someone laughing and smiling a little too much for his liking it ruins his day. like literally. he’ll sulk the rest of the day trying to find out who that person was that was making you laugh and smile so much.

batman!mike who sneaks into your place while you’re working just to look through your stuff. he feels a sense of guilt being in there without your consent…but he just wants to get to know you better! he wants to know what your interests are, what books you’re into, what you write about in your journal, how your room is decorated, etc.

batman!mike wears black eyeshadow (like battinson), it’s smudged and messy but it looks so good on him. his pretty brown eyes complimenting the makeup so well.

batman!mike who watches you undress from your window once you get home from work. it’s not a one time thing either. by now he has your bare body memorised.

batman!mike who huffs and groans while he’s fucking you.

batman!mike who likes to fuck you from behind with his hand gripping onto you hair as he thrusts into you roughly.

batman!mike who will force you to look at him as he fucks you from behind, you turn around and watch as he becomes a groaning mess behind you, he tells you to stick out your tongue out for him to spit in your mouth.

batman!mike who — despite literally showing up at your window to fuck you — will not show his face to you. not yet. meaning he leaves the mask on at first.

batman!mike who makes you suck his fingers. he needs you to coat them with your spit before inserting them inside of you.

batman!mike isn’t really submissive, you probably won’t hear him whine but on those more stressful nights you’ll hear him whimper while he’s burying himself deeper inside of you, his hands wrapped around your neck.

batman!mike who will jerk off to something of yours if he isn’t able to go see you. like it can be anything: underwear, a bracelet of yours — anything.

batman!mike who will stay up late to rewatch playbacks of his day that he recorded through his contacts lenses just to see you. over and over. sometimes he’ll jerk off while he watches.

taglist: @cancelledkaley @stanheights-boyfriend @jhutch-bf @laurrrelise @joshfutturman @gryffindorsblog @obsessivemuso-withnofriends @helen-on-earth @fallingboba @cassiecasluciluce @maticka — love you guys xx

also idk if it’s just me but i cant tag certain of you that asked to be tagged :( im sorry, if anyone knows why let me know please <3