i write (mostly) for mike wheeler (for now), feel free to demand other characters from the series or from anything else and i'll see if i'm confident enough to write about them.
and if i say i just wanna stretch out my leg, pushing my bare manicured toes into my best friend mike’s mouth. he bites down playfully whilst staring at me and everyone is like wtf? but he’s so into it he just shrugs and hopes i do it again. ..then what?
hockeyplayer!mike that takes out his frustration on reader after loosing a game..💭
sadly this is not an official au yet!
you’re nearly folded in half beneath heavy handed palms. his touch scorching your skin, his cock plunging deeper and deeper with each brutal thrust mike delivers. you don’t know what’s louder, your moans or the obscenely wet squelching coming from your cunt.
his spare jersey clinging to your sweat soaked skin, you’re warm, overwhelming warm and it’s pushing you closer to the edge.
“fuckin’ refs, couldn’t call a proper penalty if- fuck- the playbook was is front of them.” mike rasps, hardly acknowledging your beyond fucked out state, he’s aware of just how good you feel, but he’s too busy still fuming over the tiger’s recent loss. each cuss at the biased referees and angry rant about the lack of honest rule-following is punctuated by a particularly mean thrust, the angry tip of his thick cock nearly bruising your poor cervix.
you’re a babbling mess of whines, shrieks, and cries by this point, your head gently knocking against the inside door handle of the backseat of his truck, the truck itself rocking with the force of mike’s movement.
“such a good girl, lettin’ me use you like this.” he coos, voice thick and low, his thumb find your swollen clit and sending you hurdling over the edge, your orgasm gushing out of you in a powerful spray, soaking the thighs of mike’s haphazardly pulled down sweats and the leather of his backseat, and your release triggers mike’s own, his cum filling you in heavy, quick spurts but you can tell he’s not done yet.
and to the best of his ability in the limited space, mike flips you on your stomach, your elbows shaky and unsteady as they hold not only your weight but his too as he presses against you. the weight of him is hot, heavy, intoxicating and grounding all in the same breath. his hands are calloused and warm as he pulls your hips upward, quickly pushing his cock back into you, the force of that initial thrust sends you flying flat on your stomach, your ass in the air as his hips slams against you.
“gonna let me fuck you until i’m done bein’ mad, hm?” his tone is teasing, inviting, and condescending in the best way and the moan you let our in response as his cock drags against a particular sweet spot is nothing short of pornographic.
“yes.”
that delivers a sharp smack to the left side of your ass, leaving you gasping and shaking as he chuckles.
“yes what, angel?”
“yes sir.”
“good job, baby. now where was i? right, that fuckin’ defense man on the other is such a whiny bitch.” he grunts, his speed picking up as his anger reignites in the pit of his stomach.
“huh, kinda like you right now.” he laughs, and despite the fact that you’d normally roll your eyes, your body betrays as your walls clamp around him.
“oh lucky, you’re a dirty girl, you liked that.”
upon this discovery, you knew you were in for a long night.
author's note: i need him in my skin, blended this ask of him with a prior similar idea i've had check it right here, xoxo. wc: 500.
preacher’s son mike wheeler who grows up learning that love is something you prove. his mother’s hands are always busy, dusted in flour or folded in prayer, never still long enough to hold him. his father’s approval comes only when mike is quiet, obedient, god-fearing. so he learns early how to disappear. how to be good. how to ache without making a sound.
farmer boy mike with sunburnt shoulders and aching hands, standing in the fields long after dusk because it’s easier to talk to god when no one’s around. the crops don’t judge him for his doubts. the dirt doesn’t ask him to be pure. it just takes what he gives and gives back when it’s ready. he wishes love worked like that.
but then there’s you. you who laugh too softly, who look at him like he’s something worth tending to. he doesn’t mean to fall for you. he knows he shouldn’t. but god, you feel like rest. like the quiet after the hymn ends and no one’s speaking yet.
he doesn’t plan on breaking. it just happens. one another bad day, one too many sermons about sin and sacrifice, one sharp word from his father that lingers too long. he ends up with his head in your lap before he even realizes it, curls falling into his eyes, hands fisted in your skirt like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. when he cries, it’s quiet at first. apologetic. like he’s waiting to be told to stop. but you don’t. you just smooth his hair back, slow and steady, murmuring things his mother never had time to say and his father never learned how to mean. it wrecks him. he presses closer, face then tucked against your chest, not for anything sinful, at least at this instant, just warmth, just safety, just somewhere to finally fall apart.
little did his father know, while he was preaching about sin and redemption, his son was busy planning how to ruin you in every dirty lingerie set he'd stolen the church charity money to go buy at the thrift shop down the road. he had you bent over your bed like an altar, tearing through those innocent looking panties and bras like a starvation possessed him.
preacher’s son mike who sobs like a child because no one ever let him be one. who shakes under your touch because this, this gentleness feels like something holy he was never promised.
he loves you quietly. desperately. the way he was taught to love god. but with you, it doesn’t hurt as much. with you, he doesn’t feel like he has to earn it.
he surprises you one morning by gifting you a rosary. not just any rosary though. he personally picked out the beads, each one representing a prayer he whispered for you. he ties it around your wrist gently, "to keep you close to god." but especially close to him.
tag list: @10iceicebaby @heartheejake @loveemmaall
mean!mike has you drink a ton of water before movie night with all your friends. during the movie, he doesn’t let u use the restroom. and touches you down there knowing ur trying really hard to hold it in
author's note: i need more unrestrained ask like this please and thank you xoxo. wc: 660.
warnings: in the ask itself.
you don't know how it started.
you’re getting the basement ready alongside mike. he planned a big movie night and invited all your friends to the hangout, wanting to do a whole movie marathon of his favorite franchise. and you’re the one he called for help to get the whole setup ready, telling you to bring all the snacks and arrange them nice and satisfying to the eye. he on the other hand is taking care of downloading every single sequels following the first movie, his eyes completely focused on the tv screen and his eyebrows furrowed as he figures out what the different buttons of the remote control could possibly mean, an old one.
and sooner or later you both are done with the layout of the small spot as you put down your clear cup of water now completely empty, because that’s all mike has been giving you ever since you started : just water — he’d put a hand on your hip and hand you a plastic cup of water for each little action you do, telling you to "hydrate yourself, you’ll need it." and it was so constant, so constant that you started to question his unusual behavior, but you’ll still take his plastic cup of water, you just thought he was being considerate, sweet even. so you’d brush it off, drink it all and go back doing whatever you were absorbed on before you got abruptly cut off.
however, it all made sense when you were all sitting in front of the tv — you and your boyfriend cuddling into one another and a blanket covering both your bodies, some of your friends are sitting on the floor, some were on the seats next to yours, but all eyes were glued on the old screen which belonged to his father back in the days. you feel a tingling sensation hitting you in your bladder, the result of the many glasses of water you took earlier that evening. and you quickly reached your hands out to free yourself out of the blanket hoping to excuse yourself as quickly as possible, feeling as if you can’t hold it in anymore. that is, until you feel his palm getting in contact with the back of your hand, stopping you in your movements, "where are you going?" he asked, visible fake confusion on his face.
"i need to pee really bad, i’ll be right back," you whisper close to his ear, you didn’t want the others to hear your conversation. and you notice the slightest grin forming across his features, that’s when you understand the trick he pulled on you. "we’re barely halfway through the movie, it can wait," and you swear you could kill him on the spot when you feel his hand slowly slipping under the blankets, pushing his fingers against your pelvis. you can feel it, the warm feeling sitting inside of your bladder begging to be let out, using your whole entire strength to let it flow out. you can feel it even more when his digits trail down to your clothed pussy, he’s not trying to feel your insides, he’s not moving, he’s moving in circles around your clit — applying pressures every now and then, he’s no longer watching the movie, his gaze is fully fixated on you, watching you trying to keep small figure. one of your hands fly down to grip onto his as you’re starting to feel everything all at once, letting out a breathy sigh just to dismiss it with a cough, real rookie move if you think about it.
shortly after he stops his circular movements and goes to lay his palm on top of your now soaked panties. you don’t know if it’s from your overall wetness or just your urine itself, all you remember was hearing his low voice whispering against your ear, to stay put and good right by him until the movie ends.
i’m literally finishing the mike x overly freaked out reader ask right now, if i see that y’all like it then i will definitely do a pt.2 with him being a freak xoxo.
synopsis: in which attending the annual start of the year staff and faculty of welding university gala doesn’t go as planned for the dean’s daughter when she runs into a newly familiar face.
pairing: teaching assistant!finn wolfhard x the dean’s daughter!reader
warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking and drugs, finn and the reader are 24, tension [ possibly sexual ], implications of past hookups, the reader’s sexuality is rather fluid.
disclaimers: this won’t be entirely accurate as i’ve never gone to an ivy league university. also, as far as i’m concerned welding university is an entirely fictional school.
teacher’s assistant au & concept originally done by @snoopychris !! i was given permission to create my own take on this au!
from a young age, your father often treated you as if you were much older than you were. he handed you many different responsibilities that came with wealth and a prestigious family name that no young child should bear. so as you grew in young adulthood, you started your rebellious streak, dating men, woman, theys and thems of certain wealth statuses that your father would never approve of.
it wasn’t that you didn’t know you had it extremely easy, you were well aware and you were thankful for the endless and extensive resources at your easiest disposal, but you wanted to feel like a normal kid. you wanted to feel like a person who didn’t have the weight of a familial legacy breathing down your spine.
however there were many moments where you were extremely grateful for your last name and who you were related to, the dinner parties where you heard the best of the best sort of gossip, the sunday afternoons spent perched on a golf cart as your grandfather made countless deals with other men, the galas and mixers you attended where you could dress up with your friend who also happened to be from elitist families. you were rather nervous for one gala in particular, the one that welding university was holding for faculty and staff members alike.
this was your third year attending welding university, and your father often invited you as a way for you to meet and charm your new professors and welcome the newest staffing hires. as the daughter of the university’s dean and largest donor and sponsor, you had certain public and polite duties to fulfill. and according to your father, there was quite the group of new hires.
as you stepped out of the black range rover that your father sent for you and your two closest friends, sadie and caleb, the three of you quickly began smoothing over each other’s outfits before all grabbing the mini shooter bottles out of your purse.
“here’s to another party surrounded by lame old men and woman who look at me like i’m a harlot because i’m showing skin from the middle of my shins to my ankles.” you laugh, tapping the plastic bottle against the other two and downing it quickly, sadie and caleb following shortly behind you.
the three of you stepped inside the glitzy hotel that the event was being held in, greeting the doormen with polite smiles and a hundred dollar bill from each of you as a cash tip for their service, before walking toward the ballroom. you hummed to yourself as you adjusted your below knee-length dress. the dress was nowhere your usual attire, you did wear high-end fashion brands, but they were rather inappropriate for such an event.
“y/n, quit messing with your dress, you’ll wrinkle it.” you hear someone call from behind you and it causes you to roll your eyes and stand up straight. turning around, you greet your mother and her new husband with a tight-lipped smile.
“hello to you too, mom.” you grimace, as if calling her mom tasted bitter and wrong, and honestly that wasn’t far off. your mom left your father when you were ten, chasing men with more money, with old money, with larger familial legacies, and more wealth. however, you couldn’t deny that the game she was playing paid off. with each new marriage, she would manipulate the poor unsuspecting men into agreeing to split their assets and wealth fifty-fifty, and as soon as that one year anniversary was checked off, she’d attack the men for all they had. she had a disgustingly large amount of money after marrying leading stock investors, political figures, every rich man she could find that had more than the last, she’d rope them into a false marriage and steal their money.
“the least you could do is acknowledge william. now let’s take a picture.” she calmly reprimands you, gesturing to her next ex-husband beside her and then to the camera man at the door to the ballroom.
“why? you guys have been married for nine months, he’ll be gone in three.” you mutter, begrudgingly stepping beside your mother, her arm wrapping around your waist as you put in a fake smile for the camera.
you don’t allow your mother to hold you captive in conversation for much longer, quickly making your way into the ballroom, immediately spotting your father.
“hello peach, what took you so long?” he acknowledges you with a gentle smile, pulling you into a hug.
“ran into your ex-wife in the lobby and she forced me to take a picture with her.”
“of course she’s here.” he laughs, quickly being pulled into a conversation with another figurehead of welding university, and you move about, speaking animatedly with previous teachers and introducing yourself to new staff for about an hour before stepping aside and texting your friends to meet you outside on the north-end balcony for a smoke break.
the three of you run down the hallway, yours and sadie’s heels clicking against the marble flooring, caleb’s laugh echoing behind your small group. as you step outside, you’re quick to pull your blue raspberry cart out of your purse, taking a big rip before passing it to sadie. after awhile, you receive a text from your dad, asking you to return for his speech, and the three of you apply eye drops before returning.
you text your father back saying you need to use the bathroom, and you groan realizing your dress, being a bit tighter around your legs, it makes using the toilet a lot more difficult and now, you’re running late.
you quickly finish and taking off running toward the ballroom as you hear your father being introduced, as you text sadie and caleb asking where they are, you walk straight into someone. looking up, you’re about to apologize when you meet a familiar set of eyes surrounded by thin gold frames.
“well look at we have here, hello y/n.” the arrogant smirk audible as your name falls from his lips.
“finn?” you whisper, your pulse spiking as the memories of your summer vacation spent with him in vancouver. your plan wasn’t to develop a small fling for four months, but it happened and neither of you could deny how good it was, despite how arrogant and cocky finn was and how rough your fling with him ended.
“what’re you doing here peach?” he grins, finding the way you’re starting to squirm under his gaze amusing. something he enjoyed over the summer was how much you’d squirm if he looked at you too long, scared he’d see who you really are.
“i’m not doing this here finn. you couldn’t bother to say bye after four months. now if you’ll excuse me, i’m late for my dad’s speech.”
“ah that explains it.” he chuckles, low and dark, something throaty and you hate much it makes your legs twitch at the memory of him making that same chuckle between your thighs as you beg him to let you cum.
“what do you mean by that?”
“the only reason you’d be at an event like this for a school like welding would be daddy’s money and his position as the dean bought you a spot. i wondered why the last name seemed familiar.” he laughs again, adjusting the frame perched on his nose before crossing his arms and stepping just the tiniest fraction in front of you, the sleeves of silk shirt hugging his biceps, showing some muscle definition that absolutely wasn’t there this past summer. you’re quick to push him away from the doorway, scoffing as you step inside, staying the entrance as your father continues his speech.
“now i would like to introduce our guest of the hour, our youngest staff member. mister finn wolfhard. he will be accompanying the philosophic, ethical, sociological, and philanthropic departments as the teaching assistant in those courses. he will be aiding each course for two to four weeks before moving the next. he will take on any other teaching positions as he so pleases as he is passionate about this opportunity. i welcomes him aboard due to his excellent level of intelligence and his desire to teach people.” your father beams as he welcomes finn on stage.
“thank you dean l/n, it’s the highest honor to teaching at your school. i hope that i can impress all of you and share my knowledge and beliefs in these courses.” finn hums into the microphone, a charming smirk gracing his lips as his eyes never leave yours.
you’re quick to duck into the crowd of teachers clapping as the speech concludes, trying to get to sadie and caleb before you run into finn once more. as you reach them, sadie’s eyes are darting around the room, frantically searching for you.
“what the fuck was that?” she hisses quietly as she runs over to you, her eyes nearly popping out of her skull, she was one of the first people you told about your situation with finn, she was supportive of it, wanting you to get back into the dating scene after your the horrible end of your last relationship.
“i know.”
“did you know he was joining the board this year?”
“no i had no clue he even knew of welding! i just ran into him before i heard the end of dad’s speech and honestly, he’s a totally different person now that he knows who i am.” you whisper, walking toward the drink table, your friends in tow.
“well we’re still supposed to be here for another two hours to keep up appearances.” caleb groans, discreetly handing you a flask of vodka, and you graciously accept and pour a generous amount into your drink.
“well caleb and i can try to keep you away from finn, knowing your history of bad decisions involving ex-hook ups.” sadie giggles, causing you to throw a pointed glare her way.
“trust me, that won’t be needed, given the fact that he thinks i’m only here because of “daddy’s money” and he thinks im some spoiled, tone-deaf brat with no sense of reality. and truly, it’s such a shame because he’s still so hot.” you grumble, downing the rest of your drink, quirking an eyebrow at the sudden shock covering your friends’ faces. you’re about to ask them what’s wrong when you feel someone standing behind you, their body heat instantly familiar and you hate the way your body tries to curl into it.
“i’m glad to know you still think i’m hot.” finn teases, his voice low and his breath warm against the shell of your ear.
“too bad you’re a pretentious asshole or i’d give you another chance.” you sneer, stepping away from him as you pour another drink, your hand outstretched toward caleb, silently pleading for the flask of vodka.
“please i wouldn’t give you another shot if you were on your knees begging for it, peach. i’d have a better chance at something realistic with a sex doll, at least they don’t need a trust fund.” he smirks, watching as you stiffen slightly. your entire life, your intelligence had been doubted because of the money your dad spent on you, when you were a teenager, he placed you in juniper prep, the best of the best when it came to preparatory schools. but because you were placed in such a high-end school, people often thought your spot was bought-in and that you didn’t work for it. little did anyone know, you aced the preliminary exams that were mandatory to gaining a spot in juniper.
“you don’t even know who i am, finn. just like everybody else you’re basing my worth off of how much money my father has. i actually perfected the exams and applications to get into welding, you were handed a position. i think that says more about you than it does me. at least i worked for the spot i have.” you snap, watching as his facade crumbles just slightly.
“you haven’t worked for anything a day in your life peach. and i do know who you are, i researched you before i came here.”
“you don’t know anything, at least not anything genuine.”
“i know that your daddy throws money at whatever scandal you’ve created or the way he pays for everything you own. if you want me to believe that you’re smarter than you seem, you gotta prove to me peach, because from where i’m standing, i only see an air-headed trust fund baby spiking the punch.” he jeers, walking away with a satisfactory smirk toying at his mouth after throwing the final jab.
“oh we’re so about to see a total shitshow.” caleb chuckles, watching your face twist in determination and pure spite, finn’s assumptions of you lighting a fire in you that hadn’t been seen since high school.
“he wants me to prove it to him? i will but he’s gonna regret ever asking me to do so.”
what the hell 400 followers i love you all?? i'm (almost) done with all of the asks in my inbox, i’ll post them between today and sunday. meanwhile don’t be shy to send ones, if they’re thoughts/concepts i’ll write them as interludes between previous asks. love you all stay tuned xoxo.
currently, him and the rest of the band except for ben, are out at a bar celebrating landing a continuous and high paying gig, y/n is there as well because the band’s social media manager asked her to take some pictures of the band during the gig as a trial run to see if she’s got what it takes to be their full-time photographer.
mike and y/n can’t stop sending soft but heavily charged looks toward one another, but mike won’t do anything because so far he’s only seen her with ben and he ultimately assumes they’re together in some sort of relationship limbo.
but god does he want her.
he knows that as soon as they all leave the bar together, he’s gonna go back to his shitty apparently and get off to the thought of her in the tiny little skirt she’s wearing. he feels so guilty about jerking off to his bandmate’s girl but he can’t help but do so, the guilt and shame surrounding make it all that much more addicting and he feels pathetic every time he strokes and edges himself, her name falling from his lips in a broken whine. he is pathetic. he thinks she’s trouble all wrapped up in tiny skirts and dangerously low necklines with a pretty little smirk, and he can’t help but obsess over it.
stepbro!mike who reader lays with on the family sofa during movie night. he slips into reader and makes them keep his cock warm throughout the rest of the film. whenever everyone goes to bed after the movie, he fucks reader on the sofa.
author's note: i literally need that. might have a few inaccuracies, but i'll hope you'll still enjoy it xoxo. wc: 952.
warnings: mdni, kind of mean!mike, fem!reader, public sex, unprotected sex i think that's it?
his mom thought it’d be a good idea to bond over a shitty comedy film that’s no more mainstream enough to be worth watching anymore. your parents were cuddling next to each other, your dad’s arm draped around his mom’s shoulder, her hands on his chest just holding each other like they belonged together. your leg was thrown over his thighs with his hand slowly caressing that same spot all over again, it was during these times where you liked having a big blanket covering your lower halves. he slowly turns his head to you, lowly whispering a small "are you watching it?", and your gaze fall to your parents clearly looking interested in whatever scene happening in front of their eyes, clearly amused by the movie. you shake your head and he can see the way your brows slightly furrows, taking in the subtle frustration etched into your features. he notices the way you're biting your lower lip, the way your fingers are absentmindedly playing with the hem of your blanket. he realizes you're not paying attention to the movie at all. instead, you're distracted. his hand on your leg slowly moved higher, squeezing gently as he leaned in even closer, his nose tip caressing your cheek. his voice is barely a whisper now
"want to... do something else?"
he shifts slightly, pressing his growing erection more firmly against your thigh under the blanket. you feel his hard dick press against your leg, and you have to bite your lip to hold back a soft moan. your eyes flick quickly to your parents, confirming they're still wrapped up in the film. then, you nod vigorously, trying to hide your eagerness. mike subtly adjusts his position, slowly spreading his legs wider and wider until his cock is aligned directly with your core ; your panties were put aside moments before as he previously tried to test the waters by toying your pussy before giving up after being cut by his new father’s abnormally loud laugh. he pretends to reach for popcorn, his arm casually draped over your shoulders to hide his movements. mike steals glances at you, his eyes lingering on your profile as you stare at the screen. he can feel your warmth against his tip, the gentle rise and fall of your stomach as you breathe. your parents exchange a glance before your dad speaks up, "you two staying up?" he asks casually, his eyes flicking between you and mike under the blanket. you freezes momentarily, his hand still under your shorts. he quickly composes himself and nods nonchalantly, "yeah" your dad nods approvingly, "don't make too much noise. we're going to sleep." with that, they both stand up and stretch before disappearing into their bedroom, leaving the two of you alone in the living room with the tv still playing quietly in the background.
the moment your parents bedroom door closes, mike springs into action. he pulls the blanket off completely, exposing your bottom half. he rapidly pushes your shorts all the way down, throwing them onto the floor, not too far away for you to forget about it afterwards. he's already taking off his pants and pushing his boxers down just as rapidly. "turn over," you quickly do so, onto your stomach, spreading your legs slightly. he grabs your hips and pulls you back, positioning himself between your thighs. he doesn't waste any time, lining himself up and pushing inside you in one swift motion, his hand immediately clamping over your mouth to silence any noise. he starts moving immediately, his hips thrusting forward as he fucks you silently on the couch. his hand stays over your mouth, muffling any sounds that might escape. the tv provides a perfect cover for the soft sounds of skin slapping against skin and your muffled moans against his palm. he continues his steady pace, his breath hot against your ear.
"shh... you don't want to get us grounded forever, do you?"
he whispers, his hand tightening over your mouth. of course you nod weakly, trying to focus on the movie to distract yourself. without warning, he yanks your head back by the cheeks, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. his thrusts harshens, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh growing louder despite the tv's volume. "watch me," he demands whispered harshly, "me, not the fucking movie." your eyes snap to his, wide with surprise and arousal. he snorts, resuming his pounding rhythm but slower this time, ensuring you can't break eye contact. he watches your expression closely as he hits that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back slightly.
"that's it..."
with a final deep thrust, mike buries himself inside you completely and holds there, his arms wrapping around you possessively as he comes silently with your name on his lips muffled by the kiss. he stays buried deep, kissing you deeply to swallow any sounds you might make.
sometime after the movie stops making sense, you both fall asleep. the tv keeps playing, volume low, light flickering across the room. you’re curled into him without realizing it, your head pressed into his shoulder, his arm angled just enough that it works. your hair’s a mess. pillows are everywhere—one on the floor, one shoved under his elbow like it gave up. the next evening, his mom comes home and pauses when she sees you like that. she smiles, quiet and soft, because it looks easy. because you look comfortable. like you belong there together.
she doesn’t wake you. just pulls a blanket over you both, thinking how nice it is to see you getting along so well, how this is what a family is supposed to look like.
i was working on this ask and i saw that @autvmnangels actually did it and gosh it was too good. i'm so scrapping the shit that i wrote down the bin omg.
1st of all you are so amazing at writing 2nd could you do an acting au with finn wolfhard where yall have to do a spicy scene and he gets a little too into it
FREAKY ON CAMERA FINN WOLFHARD X READER
author's note: thank you so much ughh, i loved this idea and loveddd writing it, i love your ideas so much, i'm having a thrill doing them all. anyways i hope you'll enjoy it xoxo. wc: 1.7k
warnings: mdni, oral f!receiving, voyeurism i think that's all?
you were an emerging actress, only really known for her face rather than for her acting and you were desperately sending videotapes you did in the cleanest side of your bedroom. but to be honest, you've really only accepted the role just because of your co-actor. you knew the movie didn't had much of a budget and so will perhaps be your paycheck, the movie director convinced you that it was what was giving a real meaning and experience to the movie but what really convinced you was when he pronounced his name, and the idea of you two starring as a couple.
you met finn in a bar a few nights later, the kind of place chosen because it was close and cheap, not because anyone liked it. a couple of the other cast members were there already, talking too loudly, pretending they weren’t nervous. you sat, ordered whatever was on tap, let the night loosen you a little.
you drank. finn drank, you talked shit.
finn was good at it—dry, precise, not cruel but not kind either. you liked that, he was so hot under those bar lights being nonchalant about it. you found yourself leaning closer without thinking about it, elbows on the table and tits spilling from your top, brushing the wood. at some point the conversation stopped being about the movie and started being about nothing, some of your coworkers tried to sneak into it so you lied about needing to go to the bathroom to freshen up and he followed you not so long after. you eventually ended making out against one of the stalls door, your skirt rolling even more and your lip pencil smudging all over his jawline. god, the hickeys he left with his teeth on your neck.. will the makeup artist even succeed to cover them up? that’ll be a question for tomorrow and after your morning coffee.
the first days of filming were interesting; you cringed at some of the lines that were delivered by your crew mates, acting as if the frowny brows and snickers were just a part of emphasizing your character's personality. just before the 8th day of production, the first suggestive scene came around in the script; it was one between you and finn just after a “reunion.” you hid your excitement as much as you could around the table reading. you looked over to meet finn, a smirk was on his lips as his fingers fidgeted with the highlighter he barely even used. the director called a wrap and said that you only had 30 minutes before beginning to film. you left your seat and followed the signs to the backstage, wondering how the production could even afford an intimacy coordinator and, moreover, why you even needed one. finn followed not so far behind, longing after you.
you stopped walking and turned around.
he was closer than you thought. close enough that you had to tilt your head up slightly. he smiled when you met his eyes, not friendly, not shy, just that knowing smirk he’d been carrying since the table read.
“excited about our scene?” he asked.
you scoffed, already shaking your head. “it’s two pages,” you said. flat. “i’ll survive.”
you turned back around like that was the end of it, like you hadn’t clocked the way his eyes stayed on you a second too long. he followed anyway, fell into step beside you.
“right,” he said. then, quieter, almost casual, “we could rehearse.”
you glanced at him. he nodded toward a door you’d already passed, the one marked costumes — storage. half-lit, slightly open, no one around.
“method acting, you should try it." he added, like it explained everything.
you didn’t answer right away. you kept walking for two more steps, just to prove you could. then you stopped again. you told yourself it was about the scene, about making it believable, about not wasting time once cameras were rolling.
you reached back, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him toward the door before you could think better of it.
the room was narrow, packed tight with garment racks and boxes, everything smelling faintly of fabric spray and dust. a single bulb hummed overhead. you didn’t look at him right away, like that might give you a second back. finn leaned against the door, arms loose, watching you. still that same expression, like he hadn’t expected you to say no in the first place. “reunion scene,” you said, mostly to yourself.
“we haven’t seen each other in years.”
“missed me,” he said.
when you came back to set, they noticed immediately.
the director looked relieved first, then irritated. one of the producers asked where you’d disappeared to, half-joking, half not. people had been looking for you. time was tight. everyone was already behind. then someone, wardrobe, maybe—tilted their head and said your name again, slower this time. asked why your hair looked like that. why your makeup was… off. displaced. like you’d skipped the chair entirely.
you didn’t hesitate. you said you’d done it yourself. that it was deliberate. you said choosing it, messing it up, letting it sit wrong helped you get into character. that it felt like something she would do. that control mattered for this scene. there was a pause. a few looks exchanged. someone opened their mouth like they might argue, then didn’t. you could practically see them calculating—budget, time, crew morale. they knew you were supposed to go through makeup. they also knew they didn’t have the luxury to fight you on it.
“okay,” the director said finally, already glancing back toward the monitors. “let’s move.”
they brushed it off because they had to. because the clock was louder than the questions. you took your mark, felt the set settle around you again, like nothing had happened. finn was already there, waiting. he didn’t say anything. just looked at you once, quick, and then away. the director stepped in close to the monitors, clapped his hands once to pull focus.
“alright,” he said. “keep it contained. this is quiet. it’s not only about sex, it’s about distance closing. camera stays low. we live in the pauses.”
he pointed. “you’re already seated. don’t play to him—let him come to you. finn, take your time. don’t rush the touch. this is a reunion, not a release.”
the camera operator adjusted. a light gets dimmed.
“set… and—”
INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT
the room is small, barely lit. soft, lived-in. clothes folded carelessly on a chair. you sit on the edge of the bed in your pyjama shorts and an one of his old t-shirt, knees pulled in slightly, arms loose at your sides.
he’s already there.
he’s on his knees, his silhouette being almost at the same height as you despite him being on his knees, his nose is brushing against the soft skin of your thighs, remembering the path he earlier took in the costumes room. a sigh escaped your lips, scripted but truthful. his hands went on your hips instead than over the sheets, the director squinted his eyes but didn’t said anything "yearning" he thought, clever choice. your fingers brushed over his brunettes locks, massaging his scalp as if your fingertips could convey your own thoughts into his mind. he imperceptibly groaned against your skin, looking up to you to still see you into character, deciding to break it first by gripping your hips harder and letting his nose nuzzle into your core. you knew it would happen, you wanted it to. you craved for the thrill of having everyone watching you, amazed by your performances but you two really knowing what's true and what's not. he pressed his nose harder against you, breathing you in deeply, no added in perfume could compete with the natural and sweet scent of arousal. "jesus christ," he muttered against your shorts. "you're not even wearing underwear." oops, you might have forgot to put them back on after your little break earlier, his thumbs gently pressed into your inner thighs, making your legs fall open even wider. without warning, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against the fabric, kissing and sucked gently. he breathed out against you before nuzzling his nose against your slit again. the lighting engineer adjusted the lighting to capture every subtle expression on finn's face as he kissed and nuzzled against your shorts. "that's it," the director whispered into his headset. he knew exactly what he was doing ; he was trying to make you lose control right there on camera. you gasped loudly as your back arched you hated the fact that he knew he was getting a reaction out of you. the director’s voice cuts through the quiet like a clap of thunder.
“CUT! that’s perfect—holy shit, that’s perfect!”
the crew erupted. applaused, whistled, a few whoops. even the camera operator leaned back, grinning, clearly impressed. you sat there for a second, catching your breath, letting the adrenaline catch up with you. finn stayed on his knees a moment longer, just looking at you with that same half-smirk, half-astonishment.
the intimacy coordinator steped closer, smiling warmly. “you two were so natural on that first take,” she said. “really, it’s like you’ve done this a hundred times before.”
you both laughed, a little embarrassed, trying to act casual. he shrugged, more natural than you, brushing imaginary dust off his knees, while you tucked your legs closer to your body like that somehow makes you less aware of what’s happening.
but the heat doesn’t lie. you feel it, impossible to ignore, of course you couldn’t, the inside of your thighs were sticky and the tip of his nose was glistening; your panties were soaked. and that’s when you both exchanged a look—half shock, half amusement—and silently agree to not talk about it.
you stood up slowly, still catching your breath, pretending like everything is normal, while the crew keeps buzzing, oblivious to what really just happened.
stepbro mike wheeler who teaches innocent reader what sex is
author's note: so emotional my first stepbrother!mike ask, both him and reader are of course out of age, i hope you'll enjoy it, xoxo.
his mother left his father on the eve of their 20th wedding anniversary. his sister had barely left the family home when he already found himself having to live with his new "sister." his mother wasn't the only one who moved on so quickly. all his frustration at having to get used to new people and a new house disappeared the moment, right now in her soft sheets, his hands on your hips as he teaches you how to kiss him. "that's it...just relax your lips and follow my lead." he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, his tongue gently caressing your bottom lip. "see? not so hard…" mike's hands squeezed your butt, pulling you even closer as he continued to kiss you deeply. he already could feel his erection pressing against you, and he knew you can feel it too. he pulled away slightly, breaking the kiss. "fuck.." he whispered, his forehead resting against yours.
"does it hurt?" you asked innocently, almost stupidly while staring at his erection poking through his plaided boxers. mike looked desperate and uncomfortable, his hand pressing against his hard dick through his boxers. “sissy,” he whimpered softly. “i can't make it go away... it's so fucking hard and it hurts...” he looked at you with his fake sad puppy dog eyes look.
your heart shattered, you didn’t wanted your freshly new brother to be in pain "i wanna take care of you mikey"
mike's voice strained as he practically begged you to suck him off. "fuck," he pulled his boxers down, revealing his angry pleading dick. "it's gonna explode if you don't suck it."
"just like that, you like being your brother's little helper right?"
you would have answered if your mouth wasn’t so full of his cock but anything for your big bro you thought.
