♡ about me: Lucy, 21, in wayy too many fandoms, in love with everything milo manheim and joe keery, BIGGEST stancy defender, writer
♡ Link to my ao3 page
MY WORKS
♡ Milo Manheim ♡
Wally Clark:
Astronomy (multi-chapter, 18+)
Helpless (oneshot)
Ryan Baker:
Ride (oneshot, 18+)
♡ Joe Keery ♡
Steve Harrington:
Roots In My Dreamland (coming soon)
Dirty Little Secret (coming soon)
Stancy (ao3 only):
Invisible String (multi-chapter, 18+)
Every Breath You Take (oneshot)
Covered In The Colors (oneshot)
The Archer (oneshot)
Speak Now (oneshot)
Teacake:
Feelin' You (oneshot, 18+)
♡ Other stuff ♡
School Spirits S2 Episode breakdowns
Ep 1 Ep 2 Ep 3 Ep 4 Ep 5 Ep 6 Ep 7 Ep 8
a/n: these are more like episode crashouts, but if that still interests you, have fun reading!
Summary: You never wanted a roommate. You want one even less when he snoops in your room and comes across something that he was never supposed to see.
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, vibrator, overstimulation, praise, fingering, ruined orgasm, enemies to lovers, sub!steve, dom/switch!reader, steve whimpers.
W.C: 6k+
a/n: i had a vision in my head about steve whimpering and i just had to run to docs.
୨♡୧
“Fucking asshole,” you grumble, digging through the organized mess on his desk. Face pulled tight with barely concealed anger, you finally find your wired earbuds underneath a pile of papers.
You bunch them up in your hand and shove them into your pocket with a grunt. This is the third time he’s taken something from you without asking, just this week. First, it was your favorite pen. Then it was the new toothpaste you bought. It’s a new habit he’s developed, on top of his already annoying ones. Like not closing cabinets. Like eating all of your snacks and leaving the empty boxes filled with nothing but crumbs.
Really, you never wanted a roommate. When you moved into your apartment, you finally felt free, finally felt like you could feel comfortable in your own space without the nuisance of other people. But your landlord got greedy. Upped the rent without warning.
And of course, he insisted that his nephew would be a good roommate. Would be able to split the cost with you. Sure, you could’ve turned him down. Could’ve begged him to let you handpick your roommate. But he never told you what an annoying fucking prick he is.
Two years living with him has felt like an entire lifetime.
“What are you doing in my room?”
Immediately, you spin around, heart plummeting, banging against your ribs violently. You jolt so hard that your hip slams into the desk painfully. “Jesus!”
“Chill, Princess.”
Steve’s leaning against the doorframe, one shoulder braced on the wood, blocking half of it. The hallway light spills in behind him, casting his body in shadow, outlining the broad slope of his shoulders and the messy curl of his hair.
He’s wearing an old, washed-out tee, the light grey fabric stretching across his torso. His legs are covered in dark denim that hugs the muscles in his thighs in a way you absolutely refuse to acknowledge. You grind your teeth together at the sight, fingernails digging into your palms so hard you’re sure they’re leaving dents.
“Don’t call me that,” you snap, teeth clenching.
Steve holds his hands up in defense and steps further into his room. “Sorry, is your highness better?
“Shut the fuck up,” you grunt, pushing past him, your shoulder checking into his.
At the contact, he stumbles back slightly, a low chuckle rumbling his chest. “What crawled up your ass today?” He asks, following after you like a lost puppy. More like a rodent. “Seriously.”
“You did!” You yell over your shoulder, plopping down on the couch. As you sink into the cushions, you hope the tension will bleed from your body. All you want is to relax, to enjoy the rest of your weekend in peace. Leaning forward, you pick up the remote and flick on the TV, some old romcom playing. Like the world is openly mocking you.
To your dismay, Steve slides in front of your view, his hands on his hips. “What did I do now?”
It takes everything in your body not to lunge up and yell in his face, to list off every single thing he does that drives you up a wall. But you don’t. Instead, you lean to the side, looking past his hip to glare at the TV screen. Noticing your shift, Steve steps to the side.
Anger tears through your veins, your teeth sinking down on the inside of your cheek. Your eyes snap up to his, chest heaving with barely concealed rage. “What do you think?” You breathe out, digging into your pocket and holding up your headphones.
Steve raises an eyebrow, tilting his head like he has no clue. “What? I made sure they didn’t get tangled this time.”
A soft puff of air comes out of your nostrils like a bull. “You took them.”
“Uh-huh?”
“Without asking, asshole!”
He just rolls his eyes, his hands dropping to his sides. “Okay? You take my sweatshirts all the time.”
An embarrassing heat creeps up your neck at the memory. You shake your head, as if you can shake the redness from your face. “That was once, and it was an accident! I thought it was mine!”
“My clothes are like, three sizes bigger than yours!” Steve crosses his arms across his chest, biceps bulging with the motion.
Slowly, you cross your arms too, mirroring his body language. “Leave me alone, Harrington. I’m seriously not in the fucking mood.”
“Yeah, I can tell. God, you’re so uptight all the time,” he says, flopping down on the couch next to you, taking out his phone. “You need to get laid.”
What?
Your head snaps over to him, your face heating up. You tell yourself it’s only from the pure anger coursing through your entire body. “Excuse me?”
“What? I’m serious. Maybe it’ll help you relax.”
At the sheer amount of audacity he’s throwing your way, you scoff. “What will help me relax is you leaving me alone and not stealing my fucking shit!”
“Mm. How long has it been?” He asks, not even looking up from his phone. The blank expression on his tilted-down face makes you want to send your knuckles into his jaw.
“That is absolutely none of your business!”
“A month? A year? What’s the deal, Princess?” He asks, a video playing low on his phone, as if this is such an everyday conversation. It just pisses you off even more.
“Fuck you,” you growl.
“Sorry, I’m not offering. You’re not my type,” he mumbles, smirking lazily up at you, his eyes finally flicking up.
God, if only you could strangle him.
Your teeth grind together, your nails digging into the meat of your bicep. The sharp sting is the only thing grounding you enough not to lunge across the couch and do just that. “Leave me alone.”
Steve just lounges back, his legs spreading, taking up even more unnecessary space. You jolt your leg back like his skin is acid when his thigh brushes yours. A low beep sounds from the device in his hands, a low vibrating following. “Ah, shit,” he mumbles. “Could I borrow a charger?”
Your jaw almost drops at his audacity. Instead, you keep your face pulled tight, trying not to let him burrow into your skin even more than he already has. “Absolutely not.”
“Please? I asked this time,” he offers, smiling like a proud kindergartener. He knows how much it pisses you off, knows exactly how to get under your skin. “Please?”
“If I say yes, will you go into your room and leave me the fuck alone?”
Seemingly considering it for a second, Steve just shrugs. “Fine. Where is it?” He asks, already rising off the couch. As soon as he stands up, the tension already melts from you. The further he is, the happier you know you’ll be.
If you have to sacrifice an extra charger, so be it.
“Top drawer, next to my bed,” you wave him off, focusing back on the TV. You grunt, realizing you’ve missed three entire scenes. As you pick up the remote to rewind the movie, Steve shuffles away, lowly whistling some tune you don’t recognize.
After a few moments, you hear the familiar screeching of your old drawer. The same one you have to open slowly at night, careful not to wake him up. All the color drains from your face as you suddenly remember why you only open that drawer at night.
Quickly, you bolt up off the couch, socks sliding on the hardwood floor as you beeline toward your room. “Wait! Steve, hold on-” You skid to a stop in front of your door, stumbling slightly as your socks slip from beneath you.
You hold onto the doorframe, chest rising and falling like you just ran a marathon. Your stomach drops to your feet once your eyes settle on him. He’s standing next to your bed, a large grey object in his hand.
Your vibrator.
His face is painted in shock, his lips pulled into a wide smile. “Princess, what is this?” He asks innocently, waving it around tauntingly. Laughter bubbles from his chest, too warm and bright for this situation.
Every part of your body is set on fire, humiliation building so quickly within you it almost makes you dizzy. “Steve, put that down!” You yell.
Steve just laughs even harder, promptly ignoring your demands. “No way. This is too good. Jesus, how many settings does this thing have?” He asks, tilting his head as he runs his thumb down the base of it. Slowly, he pushes one of the buttons, a low buzzing filling the room. “Oh, wow.”
“Stop it!” You stomp into the room, your voice shaking pathetically. It just adds to your embarrassment, to the pure anger ripping through your entire body.
His thumb finds another button, and the speed increases, the sound of the buzzing nearly matching the volume of the blood pumping into your ears. “Do you use it every night? How hard does it make you-” his taunts get cut off when you lunge forward, attempting to tear it from his hands. He just laughs, holding it high above his head, just out of your reach.
You jump up to grab it, growling when he dodges out of the way with another laugh. “I’m serious! Stop being such a dick!” Again, you jump forward, your fingertips just brushing the toy. At the contact, he almost trips over his own feet, stumbling backward.
“I can’t believe you have one of these, princess! Is this why you’re always so-” His words are interrupted again when you jump up and try to climb him to get it back. It almost slips from his hand, and he readjusts his grip. “Whoa!”
His feet slip out from under him when you advance on him again, your body colliding with his as hands shoot out to grab onto you. You both fall backwards, Steve landing with a loud grunt as his back slams on your carpeted floor.
You land on top of him in a heap, both of you a tangle of limbs. The vibrator still buzzes loudly in his hand between you two. Slowly, in a daze, you pull up, your eyes narrowing at him. He meets your eyes, deep honey pools staring up at you. Coffee strands fall over his eyebrows, his pink lips slightly parted.
“Give it back, Harrington.”
“Make me,” he says lowly, thinking you’re too embarrassed to make much of a scene. His thumb presses down on the button again, the speed increasing. He holds it between your chests mockingly, knowing you can feel the buzzing through your shirt.
With a downward twitch of your lips, you tug at the toy, giving him a warning glance. In response, his grip tightens, fingers brushing against yours as you both fight for control. “You know, you could just ask me to help you with this thing,” he says lowly, a wicked grin spreading across his face. Slowly, his eyes flick to your lips.
Although you know he’s just teasing, only trying to get under your skin, your heart thuds harder against your ribcage. Your grip on the toy tightens, and you find the off button. It clicks off, the low buzzing ceasing. The only sound between you is his low breathing and the pounding of your heart in your chest. With a triumphant smile, you tear it from his hand.
Just as you’re about to climb off of him, you feel something shift against your thigh. Hard. Firm. At first, you think it might just be the hard muscle of his thigh. But as you readjust, and you see the tick of his jaw, you realize exactly what it is.
“Are you…”
Steve swallows hard, realizing how easily you can feel his growing erection all the way through his jeans. But, he doesn’t move away. Instead, his hips gently move up into the plush skin of your thigh. “Maybe,” he admits, his voice lowering.
“You’re a pervert,” you mumble, though no venom laces your voice. Just like you wanted, you take back the toy, rolling off of him.
He sits up, watching you with a smirk. “You’re the one who jumped on me,” he says defensively. As you stand up, he adjusts himself discreetly, clearing his throat when you notice. “And for the record…”
“Shut up,” you suddenly snap, swallowing the lump of anger in your throat. Instead, it twists into something darker. Deeper.
It’s like someone has flicked a light switch deep within you, turning two years of pure rage into a storm of emotions in your stomach, twisting deep and ugly. You want to see that smirk wiped off his face, want him to be putty in your hands.
“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” he smirks, watching your expression shift.
With a soft breath out, you grind your teeth together. “Sit down.”
His smile falters slightly at your sudden assertiveness. Steve raises an eyebrow, slightly intrigued. “What?” He crosses his arms, not making any motions toward the bed. “This an invite, princess? Because if so, I’m gonna need a real-”
Quickly, he stops talking when you hold up the vibrator in your hand. You’re eyeing him with a dangerous look he’s never seen in his life. The slow movement of his throat causes the fire within you to blaze even brighter. “On the bed. Now.”
Adams's apple bobbing as he swallows hard, his smirk fades completely. Slowly, he walks to the edge of the mattress, watching you warily. You can just about hear how hard his heart is pounding in his chest. A smile spreads on your face when he spreads his legs slightly without thinking, giving himself room. An action that previously made you want to rip all your hair out. Now, it’s nothing but convenient.
Shuffling over to him, you lean in close, your faces inches apart. Your eyes drag up and down his face, scanning each crease. Up close, you can admit how pretty he is. Freckles and moles dot his face like twinkling stars in the night, soft brown hairs grown above the curve of his top lip. Stubble lines the sharp curve of his jaw, enticing you to drag your lips down it. A light pink is crawling its way onto his cheeks and the tips of his ears. The wide, innocent look in his eyes is nothing but endearing, deep pools of honey staring up at you.
“You know, I think it’s time you got knocked down a peg, Steve,” you purr, your breath hot against his ear.
A shiver goes down his spine as the vibrator hums to life between you two, a low buzzing reverberating through your ribs. Steve looks up at you, conflicted between cocky and nervous. Leaning back slightly, his hands fist your bed sheets. “You wouldn’t-” he starts, but his voice cracks. Softly, he clears his throat, shaking his head as if it’ll stop the tremble of his words. You press the vibrator dangerously close to his crotch, the head just barely teasing the denim. “Princess, come on.”
Against his objections, you lean in closer, pressing the toy against the seam of his jeans. Inhaling sharply, his hands grip the bedspread tighter. “Fuck-” he huffs out, hips jerking involuntarily against the buzzing plastic. The pretty rose on his cheeks darkens, and his lips part. “Stop playing,” he says, but his voice is strained. Despite his words, his legs spread even wider. “You wouldn’t.”
With a smile and an innocent bat of your eyelashes, you turn it up a setting, pressing it even firmer. “Not so cocky now, huh, princess?” You mock.
His mouth falls open in a silent ‘o’ as the vibrator presses firmer against his hard length, his arousal undeniable with the denim stretching tight. Steve squirms slightly, very obviously trying to hold back a groan. “Fuck,” he whispers, biting his lip hard. Looking up at you, his eyes are wide with embarrassment.
“You’ve never used one of these, huh?” You tease, seeing it written all over his face.
“N-no, of course not,” he stammers, hips twitching against the vibration. His hands are fisted into the bedsheets, knuckles turning white. “I don’t- I don’t need one. I’m a guy, we don’t-” He cuts himself off with a choked sound once you adjust the angle, pressing the buzzing directly against the most sensitive part of him. “Oh, my god.”
You laugh mockingly as you watch a small patch of the denim darken with pre-cum. “You like that, don’t you?”
Steve doesn’t respond, his chest heaving. He follows your line of sight, groaning once he notices the dampness that has soaked through his briefs. Slowly, you sink to your knees, taking the toy off for just a moment. He looks down at you with glazed-over eyes once you begin to fiddle with the buttons. Eyebrows raise as you drag his zipper down, the sound echoing off the walls in the silent room.
He says your name, a low pathetic whine, followed by “what the fuck?”
Once you tug at his jeans, he lifts his hips to help you, revealing tight black briefs. The fabric leaves nothing to the imagination, pulled tight against the curve of his erection. Slipping your thumbs into his waistband, you tug them down his thighs. His dick springs free, hitting the soft curve of his tummy through his tee. It twitches in the cool air, the tip flushed a pretty pink.
Although this is meant to put a hit on his ego, you’re only human. So, you can’t blame yourself for taking a moment to rake your eyes down what your roommate is working with. A trimmed patch of dark hair sits at the base of him, stretching up the small strip of skin at his stomach where his shirt has ridden up. A long vein runs along the side of him, a drop of pre-cum trailing down it.
And, unfortunately, he’s big. Certainly more so than any partners you’ve had in the past. Girthy, too, which causes a thought to fly through your head. Quickly, you push it away, taking a deep breath.
“No wonder you’re so cocky,” you whisper, wrapping your fingers around the base of him with one hand, the other wrapping around the toy again. Firmly, you press it against the underside of his shaft, right under the head.
At the contact, he gasps sharply, hips lifting off the mattress. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, hands flying to your hair. He doesn’t push you away, just grips the strands desperately, nails scratching against your scalp softly. “Jesus Christ, your-” His dick twitches against the toy, his whole body already trembling, despite the low setting. His mouth opens in another silent moan.
Eyes flicking up, you press it harder against him. “I’m what? Hm? Keep talking.”
“You’re not- You’re not supposed to-” Steve can’t form words, his hips bucking shallowly into your hand and the vibrator. Eyes roll back slightly, his face flushing a deep red. “This is- I’m supposed to be the one making you, ah-” a choked moan leaves his lips.
With a laugh, you turn it up a setting, smirking in triumph when he whimpers. “You’re supposed to be making me feel good?” You finish his thought. “How long have you wanted to do that? Huh?”
His eyes widen as he realizes what he said, his thighs shaking at the increased stimulation. “I was just…”
“Tell me, Steve,” you urge, eyes flicking up to his. Without warning, you flick it up a setting, the buzzing getting quicker, louder. In response, he whimpers through clenched teeth, eyebrows furrowing.
“A year,” he murmurs, throwing his head back, revealing the expanse of moles to your gaze. You try and fail to keep the emotion on your face at bay, a soft heat crawling up your own face. Never once, in your two years of living with him, had you thought he’d have those sorts of feelings toward you.
Desperate to hide the shift of your face, you rise slightly, dragging your lips across his fluttering pulse. The position is less than comfortable, so you sit down next to him on the mattress, turning your body toward him, attacking his tanned skin again.
“A year, huh?” You repeat softly, watching how purple blooms beneath his skin where your teeth just were.
Once you’re next to him, his hands fall back to the bedspread, fingers tightening around the sheets. You swipe your tongue out, tasting sweat and the remnants of his cologne that you’ll never admit you love so much. His dick jumps against the toy, pulling another whine from his throat.
“Three more,” you whisper against his skin.
“Three… What?” Steve murmurs, his eyes widening. You pull back, dragging the toy in circles, causing his hips to jerk up again.
“Settings,” you whisper, turning it up again.
Breath hitching hard, his knuckles begin to turn white against the bedspread. Steve moans loudly, the noise going straight toward your core. You’ve never heard a man make those kinds of noises before, no matter how good you know he was feeling. You especially never thought Steve Harrington would make those kinds of noises.
“Baby, I can’t, I can’t take more,” he whines out, turning and pressing his forehead against yours. Mint fans across your lips as he pants, his eyes squeezing shut, long eyelashes casting shadows across his cheeks.
The nickname spurs you on even more, and you turn it up even higher, the plastic vibrating harder against your palm. “Shh, yes, you can,” you urge.
Turning his head, he looks down at his lap, jaw hanging open as more pretty moans leave his throat. He looks down in awe, as if he can’t believe this is happening. If you’re honest, neither can you. But you definitely don’t hate that it is.
Pre-cum leaks in a steady stream down his shaft, seemingly never-ending. It drips down your knuckles from where your fingers are wrapped around his base, enticing you to drag your fist up and down slowly. The added stimulation pulls louder whimpers from his lips, loud enough to make you worry about your neighbors.
“Come on, where’s that bold Steve gone?” You tease.
“He’s-” Steve gasps, back arching as the stronger vibrations reverberate through his entire body, the muscles in his thighs tightening. His hips are bucking erratically now, completely losing control. “He’s dying right now, oh god,” he moans pathetically. “Please, please,” he begins to babble incoherently, completely at your mercy.
Your name falls from his lips, repeating over and over like a mantra, a prayer. “Please what, baby? Please turn it up?”
Seemingly too embarrassed to say the words, Steve nods, a few strands of hair plastering to his forehead. With a tut, you shake your head, smoothing back the strands. “Use your words, tell me what you need.”
“Please, turn it up, please,” he begs, honey eyes brimming with tears.
“Good boy,” you praise, the words surprising both of you. He whimpers, hips bucking into both your palm and the toy. At his request, you turn it up two more clicks, the settings maxed. Further than you’ve ever been able to handle.
His whole body goes rigid, a strangled groan escaping his lips as shockwaves of pleasure rip through his body. Eyes rolling back completely, his dick twitches sporadically against the buzzing. “I’m… fuck, I’m gonna-”
“Not yet,” you murmur, kissing his jaw sweetly, contrasting with how rough you’re being with him.
At your words, he whimpers, body trembling so hard you’d almost be concerned. You can tell he’s just teetering on the edge of orgasm, but holding back somehow. Sweat beads on his forehead, trailing down his temple. “Fuck you,” he chokes out, but there’s no heat in it, only desperation.
You laugh in surprise, raising an eyebrow. A soft whine, comparable to a kicked puppy, leaves his lips once you take the toy away. His eyes snap open, lips parting. Surprise flashes across his features, more tears brimming at his waterline. “Don’t talk to me like that, and I might let you cum.”
“I’m sorry,” he spits out immediately, voice breaking. “I’m sorry, please, please, I can’t take it.” His voice is hoarse, whiny.
“Hm,” you hum, tilting your head at him. His lower lip trembles, and you take the hand that’s still wrapped around his shaft away, instead dragging your knuckles against the pink skin. Gently, despite his state, he presses his lips against your skin, eyes pleading.
His hips grind up uselessly against nothing, a hand leaving the bed sheets. He wraps his fingers around your wrist, thumb brushing against your pulse point. “Please, baby, I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I promise. I won’t steal from you, I’ll close the cabinets, fold the laundry.”
A soft smile twitches at your lips before you can stop it. “Will you stop stealing my snacks, too?”
Nodding quickly, he kisses each knuckle again, his lips searing into your skin. “Never again.”
“Promise?”
“I promise,” he whines again, blinking at you.
“Okay, fine,” you shrug, as if he’s not affecting you at all. In reality, it’s quite the opposite. It took the same effort on your part to take the toy away as it did for him to plead with you, if not more. Slowly, you press the vibrator right against the most sensitive part of him, his hips jolting at the shock.
It only takes a few more moments for him to throw his head back, for more pleas to leave his mouth. Except, this time, he doesn’t wait for you to answer. He cries out, body convulsing as he cums harder than he ever has in his life. White ropes shoot across the revealed skin of his stomach, some landing on his tee.
Before his whines can get even louder, you smash your lips against his, muffling his increasing whimpers. His tongue slides against yours, his fingers tangling into your hair as he presses you firmer against him. Once you’re sure he’s thoroughly wrecked, you flick off the toy, leaning over to place it on your nightstand.
Steve collapses against the mattress, his dick still twitching slightly, oversensitized from the intense orgasm you just gave him. He looks up at you with glazed-over eyes, a drop that could either be sweat or a tear sliding down his temple. Chest still heaving, he attempts to catch his breath. “Fucking hell,” he breathes out.
You go to the bathroom for a moment, bringing back a box of tissues. Gently, you clean up his release from his tummy, bringing even more scarlet to his cheeks. Crumpling up the tissue, you toss it in the trashcan next to your bed. Then, you sit with your legs folded beneath you next to him.
“How are you feeling?” You tease, placing your palm against his chest. Even through his tee, you can feel the rapid beating of his heart. Eyes rake down his torso, and a smile pulls at your lips as you watch the soft pudge of his stomach rise and fall with each deep breath.
“Like… Like you just broke me,” he says, managing a weak, shaky laugh. His larger hand covers yours against his chest, fingers intertwining. “I can’t feel my legs,” he whispers, looking at you with a dazed, adoring expression.
You smile down at him, gently pressing your lips against his. Slowly, you pull back, tilting your head. “You gonna be nice to me from now on?”
Nodding eagerly, he squeezes your hand gently. “I’ll be so fucking nice, princess, you’ll think I’m a different person.” The pad of his thumb traces circles on the back of your hand, the motion melting the ice walls you’ve put up in front of him. “I promise.”
“You know, if you pull the same shit again, I won’t stop next time.”
Steve shudders at your words, his thumb stopping its motions. “You’re a monster,” he breathes out, but there’s really no resistance in his words, just awe. “A beautiful, evil monster.”
Gently, you lower yourself next to him, propping yourself up on an elbow, peering down at him with a soft smile. He rolls onto his side to face you, one arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer weakly. Tired lips press against yours softly, his thumb stroking your jaw.
“How did you turn me into this?” He laughs softly.
“Into what? A pathetic puppy?” You tease, pushing his hair out of his eyes.
“Ha, ha,” Steve rolls his eyes. “You basically just turned me into your little bitch. Didn’t think you had it in you, really.”
Your finger draws a pattern up his pec. “And I didn’t think you could make those noises,” you volley back with a shrug.
Embarrassment prickles at his face, his cheeks turning a bright scarlet. His eyes drop, as if he can’t even look at you.
“Hey, hey, no,” you say quickly, tilting his head back up. “Look at me,” you whisper, smiling once those familiar pools of honey find your gaze. “I liked it. Like, maybe too much. I’m happy I could make you feel that good.”
“Yeah?” He whispers.
“Mhm,” you hum. Slowly, a question comes back to the forefront of your mind. “Hey, did you mean it earlier? When you said you’ve wanted to do something like that for a year?”
Slowly, he nods, and you can tell he wants to look away again. But this time, he doesn’t, his gaze holding yours steady. “Maybe for even longer. And I don’t mean… You doing stuff like that to me. I wanted- I want to make you feel good. Better than any of those shitty exes I always hear you complain about.”
At his words, your lips part, the color in your face definitely matching his. You’ve never had anyone admit something like that to you without any ulterior motives, and the earnest expression on his face tells you that there are none. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he nods, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Can I? Is that okay?”
“Please,” you whisper, completely forgetting your original motive behind doing this in the first place.
A smile spreads across his face as he rolls you onto your back, using an elbow to prop himself up next to you. His fingers slowly trail down your body, finding their way to your center quickly. Starting with gentle circles, he presses the pads of two fingers against your clit through your shorts. “Like this?” he asks, although you know he can tell by the hitch of your breath.
Nodding, you close your eyes gently, a soft whimper leaving your lips. “Mhm.”
Fingers work against you slowly, deliberately, taking their time to explore what feels good. He’s in no rush, completely content in allowing you to feel each movement, each shift. “So pretty,” he whispers, learning you, memorizing your body language.
A soft breath leaves your lips as he applies more pressure, your legs spreading open for him. He watches your face carefully, adjusting his pressure and speed based on your reactions. When you bite your lip, he focuses on that spot, knowing it's going to drive you crazy. “Look at you, so cute.”
Slowly, his fingers slip underneath your waistband, sliding under your panties. “This okay?”
You nod enthusiastically, moaning once his fingers brush your clit, this time with no barrier. Steve picks up the pace just slightly, pressing a little harder. Slowly, his fingers dip lower, the middle one teasing your entrance. “God, you’re so wet, all for me?” He whispers, looking down at you in awe. “Makin’ me whine like that turned you on this much?”
All you can manage is a soft nod, followed by a whine once he presses the tip of his finger into you, sliding it against your walls. Working you slowly, he sinks it in even deeper, down to his knuckle. Despite only having one finger curled within you, the thick digit is already stretching you open.
“Gonna put in another one, okay baby?”
At your more than enthusiastic nod, he slides another one in, curling them with each shallow thrust. Burning ever so slightly with each movement. Easily, he finds that spongy part inside of you, the one that causes your back to arch off the mattress and stars to explode behind your eyes. Steve knows he has you right where he wants you when he feels your legs start to tremble against his forearm. “Come on, princess, let me hear you.”
He tears more desperate moans from your throat, which he promptly swallows when he leans over and presses his lips to yours. Pulling back, he rests his forehead against yours, breath mingling as you pant. “Feels s’good, Steve,” you whine, eyebrows furrowing.
Your back arches and your toes curl once the pad of his thumb presses against your clit, circling so expertly you can’t help but moan louder. He laughs softly, pressing against that spot within you firmer. Before you can process anything, that familiar feeling builds quickly within you, knocking the breath from your lungs.
Walls clench around his fingers, pulling another chuckle from his lips. “You close?” He asks, although you know he doesn’t need to.
Nodding quickly, you wrap your fingers around his wrist, needing something to ground you. Unlike you, he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even hesitate to pick up the speed, to curl his fingers even deeper with each thrust.
“I won’t torture you, baby, waited too long for this,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against yours again, already addicted to the feeling.
It only takes a few more thrusts of his wrist, a few more circles of his thumb for you to cry out his name, for that tightness in your stomach to release. Shockwaves tear through your veins, every part of your body trembling with pleasure. His name is on your lips, repeating over and over like a broken record.
Steve doesn’t let up, riding you through your orgasm, only slowing down when tears prick your eyes from overstimulation. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out, apologizing gently when you wince at the loss. You watch with wide eyes as he holds up his fingers in front of you both, the skin glistening with your arousal.
Then, he does something that forces another groan from your lips. He wraps his lips around his fingers, cheeks hollowing around them as he tastes you. Eyes rolling back, he moans at the taste of you on his tongue.
“You’re going to kill me,” you whisper, pressing your thighs together once the dull throbbing sharpens.
He smirks around his fingers, taking them out of his mouth slowly, knowing exactly what he’s doing to you. Leaning down, he kisses you softly, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. With a shaking hand, you slide your fingers through his hair, scraping your nails against his scalp gently.
“Steve?” You murmur, pulling back slowly.
“Yeah?” He whispers, thumb stroking your bottom lip.
“Sorry for… also being a bitch to you. I haven’t been the best roommate either.”
Lips twitching into a frown, he shakes his head, a cute pout falling onto his mouth. “I wouldn’t wanna live with me either, baby, you don’t have to apologize.”
“Hey, no,” you whisper earnestly, cupping his jaw, smiling once he leans into your touch. “I’m glad we’re roommates, Steve. I know I never show it, but I am. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Yeah?” He asks, voice cracking softly, as if he finds it hard to believe you.
“I promise. Except maybe when you steal my snacks,” you joke, leaning up to kiss him when he begins to protest.
“I’m glad too, princess,” he murmurs against your lips, rolling onto his back and pulling your head against his chest.
As he wraps his arms around you, you think back to every moment with him. Every argument, every blowout. Despite your emotions, despite your previous words, they never did feel that serious. Never felt like they had any sort of venom or purpose behind them. It sort of felt like you were dancing around this unspoken thing, avoiding seeing past his annoying quirks just so you could dodge your feelings.
So really, it was never about him being a dick. About him stealing your shit, not closing cabinets, and leaving sweatshirts scattered around the living room for you to clean up and fold later.
At that thought, a previous argument pops to the forefront of your mind. With a deep breath, you nuzzle into his chest.
“I stole your sweatshirt on purpose,” you admit, wrapping your arm around his middle.
Steve laughs loudly, the sound warm and bright, rumbling against your ear. “I know. I left it out for you.”
You both laugh together at the absurdity of it all, basking in each other's warmth. Scent. Touch. And really, neither of you would have it any other way.
Hi! I have just found your account and I love it. I was wondering if you would be willing to do a bratty!sub!mike fic? I know that might be a little out of character but Tell me you see the Vision with it like I do. If not no worries!
heh... oh I see the vision alright... >:3
Brat!Mike Schmidt x gender-neutral reader 18+
2.8k words
Tags: 18+, gn! reader, brat mike, sub mike, dom reader, lowkey kinda switch mike and reader though i cant help myself, masturbating (mike), light choking (of mike), handjob, head (reader receiving), penetration (of reader by mike), creampie, kinda exhibitionism, porn no plot, idk what else, filthy
Its silent in the Schmidt house. Abby has long been asleep, and your own bedtime came and went. You find yourself growing irritated, robbed of your nightly rinse as Mike is still in the fucking bath.
"Mike?" You call out to him, cracking the door to your shared bathroom.
"C'mon in" he purrs, satisfaction dripping from his voice. As you throw open the door, you're met with a sight that almost makes up for the late hour.
Mike lays back in the tub, preening. Whatever bubbles were in the tub have dwindled down to a few meager patches, not covering anything significant. You try to keep your eyes on his face, lips pressed into a pout to show your displeasure. Still, you can't help as your gaze drifts down slightly.
Down, past the mop of dark brown-black curly hair, still damp and shiny. Past his exposed chest and the lingering soap bubbles still spattered there. Past his submerged tummy, happy trail leading right to the soft plump cock he isn't making any effort to cover.
"Finally gonna join me?" He asks with a barely suppressed smirk, opening one eye and catching you staring.
You feel your face flushing slightly, though you know its stupid. Why shouldn't you stare at what's yours?
"I want to shower," you deadpan, eyes snapping back up to meet his. After being with you two years, he certainly knows your bedtime routine. This wasn't an accident. Mike was testing you. Provoking you. Seeing how far he could push until you snapped or gave in. He'd probably enjoy either outcome, Mike had always loved playing with you.
"Mm, but i already drew us a bath..." he starts, blinking up at you lazily. "And there's room for two."
Looking at the tub, there clearly isn't. Actually, there's barely room for Mike alone. Still, he gestures down his body, silently prompting you to lay on top of him.
"Not gonna happen, Schmidt." you huff, stepping forwards to loom over him. "Get up."
He crosses his arms, meeting your gaze with a challenging look. When it's clear he isn't moving, you reach down and flip the switch that opens the drain.
"Hey!" Mike protests, and tries to nudge it back with his foot. But you hold the switch down, letting the bathtub slowly start to empty with a low gurgle.
"I'm showering," you inform him, standing and beginning to strip down without shame, "whether you get up or not."
That breaks the spell, and Mike has to look away for a moment as you shed your clothes, a pink flush creeping up his neck and tinging his cheeks. Maybe he didn't expect his little stunt to lead to this.
You don't care either way, determined to finally get in your nightly shower. Once the water heats up, you switch it from the faucet to the shower head, and carefully step into the tub. Mike is subjected to a hot spray of water for a few moments before you block the flow with your body, but no complaints come from his mouth as you stand before him.
The water has barely drained from the tub, and you stand well past ankle deep with your feet apart on either side of Mike's legs. The stance feels somewhat awkward, but it's worth it to see the stupid slack-jawed look on Mike's face as you straddle him.
"Stop staring. Its rude." You pointedly look into his eyes and not at his dick, beginning to harden at the sight of your exposed figure.
"Like you weren't just eyeing me up, too." He scoffs in return, but drops his gaze as his cheeks flush with a pretty twinge of pink. He scoots his legs in as he sits up, giving you a little more room and conveniently hiding his dick.
You just ignore his protest, making a show of scrubbing your body down. You work at your shoulders and chest first, then prop a foot on the side of the tub to work at your legs.
Your spread-eagle position in front of him is too much for Mike to take. He not-so-subtly begins to fist his cock, forgoing his earlier shame.
"At least pass the shampoo," you tsk, nudging him with a foot. It's on the opposite end of the tub, in the corner against the wall.
He ignores you, mesmerized by your figure, and admittedly a little turned on by your anger. Though, he'd never say that part out loud.
"I think you should just wash your body again," he sighs, still looking you up and down. "Might have missed a spot."
"Shut it, Schmidt." You lean down to grab the bottle yourself, bracing a hand on the side of the tub as you loom over him, trying to keep from slipping on the remnants of body wash.
Mike doesn't let the opportunity pass him by, and makes a grab for you as soon as you're in reach.
With a yelp, you crash into Mike as he pulls you down onto himself. Heart racing, you almost yell at him for scaring you. The heat pressing into your abdomen makes you reconsider, though.
"Well, you got me. What now, hm? What do you want now that you have my attention?" The words are harsh, but you struggle to keep up the sharp tongue when you can feel him throbbing against you. You know exactly what he wants, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't want it too.
Mikes face flushes again, and his grip tightens on you, like he's scared you'll get away. "Want you," he whispers, and its so needy and honest you can't help but kiss him.
He moans into it, and you can feel him shifting below you, desperate for friction. The tub is cramped, water is getting in both your eyes, and there's hardly room to breathe, much less fuck.
Still, its worth a shot. Doesn't seem like he's planning on letting you go anytime soon, anyway.
You wrap one hand around his neck, lightly squeezing the sides juuust enough to act as a warning. The other snakes down his side, finding and gripping his dick at the base.
"This what you wanted, hm? Want me to milk you right here in the tub? Cant even wait till I'm done with my shower?"
Your mocking tone does him in, and when he tries to sputter out a response you give his cock another tug. His mouth falls open, and you take the opportunity to spit inside.
Mike's eyes roll back in his head and you swear he's about to come with the third stroke when he mumbles "do that again."
"What, Mike?" You smile, tightening the light grip on his neck as you continue to slowly stroke him. "Don't be rude. Look at me when I'm talking to you."
Reluctantly, Mike does. He's panting now, chest rising and falling against yours as you hasten the pace on his cock. The pervert had probably been daydreaming about exactly this while he took his stupid hour long bath.
This side of you, the dominant side, the mean side, had always gotten him going. The first few times, you'd been genuinely angry. Pissed off. Taking it out on Mike, though you know you shouldn't. Neither of you even remember now what the anger had been about, just how it had made Mike feel. Hot.
You didn't notice at first, that his silence during arguments wasn't a seething quiet rage. Or at least, not only that. Some part of him enjoyed your attitude. Maybe part of him thought he deserved it, deserved for you to be angry with him. But mostly? It was just hot to let you use him.
Now, it was more of a game. A push and pull, Mike doing everything in his power to get under your skin in ways that would draw out a good reaction from you. The kind that ended with him cumming his brains out and getting the most restful sleep of his life afterwards. (Rather than the alternative, getting banished to the couch for the night. In his own home, too.)
Now, Mike laid underneath you, panting and squirming. He was completely lost in it at this point, making eye contact technically but looking straight through you.
He didn't even respond to your taunts, which only served to tick you off more. You weren't doing all this for nothing, after all. What was the point if you couldn't hear, in real time, Mike's brain turn to mush as he struggles to get out coherent sentences?
"Okay then, baby. I need to finish my shower. You can do it yourself from here." You move to get up, pulling your hand away and planting it against the back of the tub for support as you try to rise to your feet.
Mike isn't having any of it. His face quickly changes from blissfully fucked-out to panicked as he makes a grab for your wrist, desperately trying to lead your hand back to his cock.
"No! please?" he resorts to begging now, shameless and adorably pathetic.
It doesn't work.
"Here, see? Just like earlier, yeah? Gonna stroke your cock while you perv on me?" You guide his hand back to his cock and set a devastatingly slow pace, your hand over his as you stroke him. After a quick kiss to the side of his sweaty face, you're back on your feet.
Mike is scowling, that infuriatingly cute face he makes when he tries to look angry but comes off as more of a pout. He keeps the pace you set, though, and you're finally able to wash your hair.
You make sure to take your time, gingerly pouring the shampoo into your hands, getting a nice lather, and scrubbing your hair with both hands, arms raised and showing off your bare body to him once more.
"Faster?" He pleads breathlessly, unable to even ask in a complete sentence as you're back to flaunting right in front of him.
"Is that how you ask?"
"Faster, please?" He tries, barely whispering the "please," as if he wasn't just putty in your hands moments ago.
"What was that? Can't hear you over the water," you taunt him, intentionally letting the water run over your face and ears to drown out his begging.
"F-fuck, pleasecanigofaster?" Mike stammers, louder this time, but stumbling over his words.
A pause. You look thoughtful for a moment, then decidedly turn off the water, reaching for his towel hanging nearby oh-so-conveniently.
"How about you come fuck me in bed like a real man, hm? How about that?"
That breaks the spell. His eyes snap to look up at you, eyes twinkling like you're offering him a rare treat. As if he wasn't doing just that last night. And the night before. And the night before that.
"Thought you'd never ask."
Mike is right on your heels as you retreat to the bedroom. You try to take a moment to dry your hair, but it seems Mike can't wait that long.
He's on you in seconds, pulling your hips flush with his as he peppers kisses down your neck. Reminding you of his urgency, his need, as it presses into you, hard and angry from the teasing.
Next thing you know you're falling back onto the bed with a squeal, Mike's strong arms making sure you're safe.
"Schmidt! You're getting the bed wet!" You tsk at him, pinching a rib to get his attention, as he's still lost in sucking and nibbling at your neck. The anger might be unfounded, since you did steal his towel.
Mike doesn't point this out, however, instead panting out a quick "m'bout to make something else wet," in your ear, then proceeded to chuckle at his own stupid joke.
You swat at him in return, trying to cover his eyes so he can't see the smile on your face. What happened to the pathetic boy in the shower? That hadn't lasted nearly long enough.
Oh well. He'd switch right back over as soon as he was begging to come inside you, which wouldn't be long judging by how he was already spreading your legs hungrily.
"Good boy," you murmur, threading your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck as Mike went down on you with a practiced grace. He knew he wouldn't be getting any without tasting you first, not that he'd ever complained or showed any displeasure in that little rule of yours.
He eagerly licked, sucked, and fucked you with his tongue, letting himself be guided by the hair to where you needed him most. Watching him like this, hearing his moans, feeling how reverently he held your thighs in his strong arms, sometimes you wondered if this was secretly his favorite part.
It was certainty yours. "Fuck, Mike. You want me to cum right now?" You yanked his head up, breathing heavy as you met his eyes. Truth was, he wasn't even going that fast, it was just so hot to see him like this.
Hazel eyes stared back at you, pupils blown wide and head tilted back as you held firm on his hair. Saliva dribbled down his chin, and water down his neck from his still-wet hair. Looking at him conjured the image of a sopping-wet cat being held up by its scruff.
"...on my face or in my mouth?"
Wide-eyed, with a hunger that quick taste of you hadn't quelled, Mike dives back in, the threat of your oncoming orgasm only spurring his enthusiasm.
"Mi-iike!" You squeal, back arching as he suddenly goes back to work with more fervor than before. "Need you inside me."
You can feel your face flushing, annoyed and embarrassed he managed to turn the tables on you again so quickly. It wasn't supposed to be like this, damn Schmidt.
He just hums in response, and you feel a couple fingers quickly slip inside. Smartass.
As good as it feels, as perfect as he is at making you come with his mouth and hands alone, it isn't enough. Not even close. Not when you know just how hard you can come on his cock.
"Need your cock inside me," you correct, giving him a harsher tug on his hair and fighting to close your legs despite him holding you open.
"Ohh, should've said that, then," he teases, finally letting up and slipping his fingers out of you.
"Cocky bastard." You barely get the words out when his mouth is crashing into yours, tongue seeking sanctuary in your mouth as you have your first real kiss of the night.
It's perfect, and somehow more perfect when you feel his impossibly hard dick notching at your entrance. He waits for your permission despite probably being on the verge of coming himself, ever the gentlemen.
Not wanting to be the one to break the kiss, you simply hum into his mouth in response, and Mike takes the hint.
In seconds, he's bottoming out inside you, making you gasp. No matter how many times you feel it, that first stretch is always unreal.
"I-im not gonna last long," he stammers, panting as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. "Sorry."
"Aww, my good boy just cant wait? Wanna come inside already?" You coo at him, only half-mocking as he finds that sweet spot that makes you clench.
He can't even respond in more than a whimper and incoherent mumble, still panting hot breath against your neck. How is he supposed to answer, with you gripping him so tight?
"Gonna, ha-aah, gonna fill me up, hm?" You struggle to keep composure as well, with Mike setting a devastating pace that has both of you on edge faster than you'd thought possible.
"I think I'm gonna- fuck, I'm gonna," Mike almost cries the words, panicked, though he continues to rock his hips into yours unforgivingly.
"Come," you finish for him, commanding, and he finishes for you in return. The warm familiar gush is all you needed to tip over that edge, your body spasming in return and milking him for all he's worth. Your orgasm feels drawn out, and you savor it, closing your eyes and moaning softly as Mike whimpers in your ear and trembles on top of you. That good for him too, huh?
Mike gives you one more kiss, this time one of pure love and appreciation rather than burning desire, then slowly sits up and pulls out with obvious reluctance. If you let him, he'd probably fall asleep just like that, with you cockwarming him.
As you both catch your breath, his spend begins to leak from you and onto the towel.
"Shit," Mike says, "I think we need another shower."
A/N:
its 4am. i stayed up way too late writing this.
Also, sorry anon. I'm pretty sure you submitted this ask like 6 months ago. I hope it was worth the wait. <3
I don't know what to title this. Mike hits it from the back. (18+)
Mike Schmidt x fem reader
1.6k words Tags: 18+, fem reader, brat reader, brat tamer mike, creampie, mike is an ass man, head (reader receiving), fingering, brief plug use (pussy), just pure filth, porn with no plot
─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
Since the events at Freddy's a year ago, things were finally starting to look up for Mike. His new job as a contractor and the subsequent new house he was able to afford after took a huge weight off his shoulders.
For once in his life since his dad left him at eighteen, he didn't have to scrape and claw his way through the month to pay rent and put food on the table. Who would have guessed poverty could be so stressful?
Still, there was one more little addition to his life that easily topped the other two: you.
Mike still couldn't believe he was dating you after all this time, that you were really his. Some days, he swore you were an angel sent from heaven, helping him with the house and Abby when things got overwhelming.
Other days, like today, he was sure you had to have been a test from Satan, a temptation of the highest degree, luring him to sin.
Mike stepped out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, towel wrapped around his waist. He wasn't sure what he was expecting from you tonight, but it certainly wasn't something this calculated and seductive.
His eyes went to your ass first, a sight that made him groan as he sat down on the edge of the bed, trying not to let you see his obvious arousal under the towel.
You were laying tummy-down on his bed in an obnoxiously tiny skirt that showed your bare ass and thighs beautifully. Mike's eyes trailed further up your body as his hand reached to squeeze your thigh, and saw you were also wearing his sweatshirt.
"Really?" he asked, giving you a playful smack on the ass as you pretended to read a book, your disinterested façade slipping away the more he touched you. "Is that my book, too?"
"Dream theory," you smile, making eye contact with him through the mirror on the wall in front of you. "Interesting stuff."
Mike's face flushes with a twinge of pink as he coughs out a reply. "I- that's old. I bought that when I was in high school."
This gets a giggle out of you, thumbing through the pages of his "old" purchase. "Mmm, well I'm on chapter three. Really enjoying your annotations."
Mike heard enough. He couldn't let you read any further. He snatched the book up with one hand and lifted your skirt with the other, fully exposing you to him.
You try to roll over in protest, but Mike is already holding you in place with strong hands.
"Nuh-uh," he starts, dropping his towel and positioning himself behind you, cock already herd and twitching. "In my bed, wearing my clothes, reading my book. 'Sgonna cost you."
"Oh, I didn't realize this was your skirt, Mike." You turn your head to look back at him with mock-innocence as he cages your body in with his own.
"Smartass." He smacks you again on the rear, this time with enough force to sting for a second.
With a yelp, you try to squirm out of his grasp, but it's too late. He wraps an arm around your neck, laying halfway on top of you with his hard dick pressing against the curve of your ass. His bicep puts a delicious pressure on the sides of your neck, and you have to bite back a moan.
"Safe word," he growls, breath hot and heavy against your ear. "Or I'm taking you right now. Just like this."
You just moan in response, eyes fluttering shut as you melt under the pressure and warmth of Mike's body.
He doesn't take well to this, reaching up under your his sweatshirt and tweaking your nipple in a way that always makes you squeal. "Words."
"Ah- just- ah! Fuck me!"
Mike doesn't stop to ask twice, he simply grabs his cock and begins to guide it in with one hand. That is, until, he feels his tip hit something hard and foreign.
Startled, he backs up off the bed as you giggle, reaching out for his hand and guiding it to your cunt. "Just keeping it warm for you!"
Mike groans as he pulls something out; a plug. It's burning hot to the touch, and he has to fight the urge to pop it straight in his mouth.
If he gets a taste for you, he'll easily spend an hour licking and sucking at your perfect pussy. Which, he'd be willing to do on a normal night, but right now? His dick is protesting the thought of anything but fucking you here and now. He feels a jolt, a painful throb shooting up from the base to tip, and quickly gets back into position.
He wants to put it in slowly, tease you inch by inch, but your greedy cunt sucks up his length so easily he sinks balls deep in one quick thrust. You moan beautifully in response, a pornagraphic sound that Mike can barely hear over the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears. He's unsure how there's even enough blood left for that with how much must have rushed to his dick when he felt just how perfect and wet you are.
"You're so hot," Mike whispers reverently, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart. "M'gonna cum too fast if we do it like this. So tight this way."
Your cunt clenches around him at the words, and he buries his face in your neck in a pathetic attempt to cover the whine that draws out of him. You'd picked this position for a reason, laying flat on your stomach with your legs closed.
Prone bone. His favorite. You'd already known he wouldn't last long, but that's half of why it was so hot. The other half was the guilty apology head he'd undoubtedly give you after, making you cum over and over with expert fingers until your legs shake.
"Then come." You clench around him again, intentionally this time, daring him to spill right now.
Mike groans and finally begins to move, growling out a couple words between each quick thrust. "So... damn... tight..." he marvels at how good your pussy milks his cock.
Its hard to keep your legs closed, as part of you wants to spread them open as far as they'll go, give him easy access. You hold back, though, knowing closed legs makes it even tighter for him. It'll all be worth it when he comes in a minute flat.
Each thrust has you arching into it, trying to wiggle your hips to his rhythm in hopes he'll go deeper than he's ever been. At this angle, it already feels that way, and you try to let him know with an incoherent fucked-out stream of babbles and curses.
As predicted, Mike can't keep up the pace for long. His thrusts grow more shallow, and as you look over your shoulder you can see him holding the base of his cock, face contorted in a desperate attempt to focus and keep from coming. The sight is too much, nearly drawing out your own orgasm despite the sloppier rhythm.
"Mike, come." You command him, tone switching from playful to stern in an instant.
His doesn't protest. His weight shifts as he let's go of his cock, planting both hands into the bed for better leverage. In just a few deep thrusts, he's coming, hot spurts that fill you to the brim and then some. He pulls out far too late, painting your ass and lower back with the last few ropes of pearly white cum.
Its an obscene amount, and Mike almost feels bad for the mess. Almost. Instead, he simply wipes you off with his discarded towel, planting a few quick kisses to your back as he does.
"Fuck, you didn't... did you...?" He can barely make eye contact, staring at your ass instead as he kneads at your thighs in an apologetic manner.
"Nope." Slowly, you lift your hips, pulling yourself up onto your knees and elbows, back arched so he can get a good view of the mess he made. His spend dribbles out of your cunt and down your thighs, and you can see all the shame leave his face in an instant as he's faced with your lewd display.
Mike shoves two fingers in your cunt with a groan, trying to keep his cum plugged up inside you. Where it belongs.
You moan a response, wiggling your hips in an attempt to get some friction going. You were sooo close when he was fucking you, just needed a liiiitle more from him...
That's when he adds a third finger, and though not as long as his cock, it's definitely thicker. A heat spreads through your abdomen and you can tell what's coming next before it happens.
Mike latches onto your clit, sucking hard as you ride his fingers. When he feels the fluttering of your orgasm, he sucks harder, squeezing your hip with his free hand.
Its not on his cock, but it may be the hardest you've ever come in your life. All the time spent teasing yourself on that plug while he showered had riled you up, and Mike practically edged you with how short he lasted inside you. His fingers are deliciously thick, and he guides your movements with his free hand on your hip as you ride them.
"Fuck, Mike..." You collapse on his bed, all but panting from the stimulation.
He isn't finished with you, though, and you squeal with a mixture of fear and delight as his body cages you in again once more. His dick is hard again, pressing into you as he yanks your hips back up to meet his own.
"M'not done here."
From the intense look in his eyes, you can tell he means it. This won't be your last orgasm tonight.
─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
Reminder that you should follow me on @stop-talking-vtwo if you only want to be updated for new fic drops and not my shitposts <3
A/N:
I went off my depression meds that were KILLING my libido like 3 days ago and now I'm horny and inspired again. God bless America god bless vibrators and god bless the FNAF 2 movie 🔥
Jonathan: "Nancy Wheeler. She's not just another suburban girl who thinks she's rebelling by doing exactly what every other suburban girl does" // "You want everything handed to you on a silver platter...What did you expect? That you would make star reporter in a month? Crack the big case?"
Steve: "Nancy's different. She's different than the other girls" "Yeah, she is [pretty special]" "You are beautiful, Nancy Wheeler" "You are so beautiful"
Ordinary vs. special; conventional vs. exceptional; diminishment of individual value vs. acknowledgment of individual value; belittlement vs. admiration; criticizing and condemning vs. complimenting and cherishing
Jonathan: “I felt this overwhelming sense of relief when she wasn’t there.”
Steve: “I missed you.” “It’s only been like an hour.” “Tell me about it.”
Sense of dread about reuniting after a very long separation vs. sense of longing after a very brief time apart; relief about a prolonged separation vs. elation/excitement about being reunited; absence creates emotional distance vs. absence makes the heart grow fonder
Jonathan: "She's incredibly ambitious"
Steve: "She actually cares about other people"
Head vs. heart; intellectual vs. emotional; focus on helping self vs. focus on helping others; emphasis on career vs. emphasis on interpersonal relationships
Jonathan: “But it’s just some stupid story.” “Oh, it’s stupid?” “It’s stupid to get fired over.” // “You weren’t there?” “Well I’m here now, aren’t I?”
Steve: “No, it’s too dangerous. You need…You need someone to…[protect and support you.]” // “I can’t do anything here, Nance. Maybe I can be helpful with this asylum director dude.”
Reluctance to support her in her investigation vs. eagerness to support her in her investigation; lack of faith/skepticism about her journalistic instincts and sense of intuition vs. unquestioning belief in her journalistic instincts and sense of intuition; invalidating vs. validating the significance of a case she feels strongly about
Jonathan: “What is your approach here, man? To just slow-motion breakup with Nancy?” “I guess.”
Steve: “I could be around for your senior year. Just to look after you a little bit. Make sure you don’t forget about this pretty face…Nance, I’m serious.”
Passive vs. active role in the relationship; willingness to let relationship run its course vs. willingness to put in the effort to maintain closeness; lack of communication and emotional investment vs. complete investment and transparency about feelings
Jonathan: "I told you over and over again to drop this story, that it was a bad idea. But you refused. And now I’m screwed."
Steve: "Thank you...For giving my head the biggest thump of its life two years ago. I needed it. It’s changed my life. And now I’m crawling forward.”
Assigning blame vs. expressing thanks; resentment vs. gratitude; weaponizing hurt vs. using hurt as a tool for self-improvement; loss vs. growth; cynicism vs. hopefulness; pessimism vs. optimism
Jonathan: "What was I supposed to do?" "Not lie!" "Not lie?" “Yeah!” “Not lie?” “Yeah!” “So I just tell her the truth?” “Yes!” “No!” // "I feel like life keeps throwing things in the way of our big plans." "Yeah, sure seems like that."
Steve: "Remember the dream I told you about? ... It's all true. Every last word. But I left one part out. It's the most important part. You're there. You've always been there."
Lies vs. truth; emotional suppression vs. emotional honesty; cowardice vs. bravery; avoidance vs. direct confrontation; uncertainty about the future he wants vs. complete clarity about the future he wants
Jonathan feeling threatened by Steve and not mentioning any of these insecurities to Nancy for months…Nancy not setting any boundaries to indicate that she isn’t comfortable with the attention Steve has been showing her for months (even after he declared his love for her in s4)…Jonathan contemplating following Murray’s advice and proposing to Nancy because their relationship is “stagnating,” it’s the end of the world, and he’s feeling threatened by Steve…Steve calling J*ncy out for being “miserable” together…it’s almost like Jonathan and Nancy don’t actually address their problems and rely on bandaid solutions to “fix” what’s wrong between them…it’s almost like they don’t communicate and use times of crisis to deepen their trauma bond…it’s almost like Jonathan thinks a ring could magically solve all of their recurring relationship issues even after he vehemently declared that their marriage would be doomed to fail in s4…
snowghoul
vaporwave
romaincrisis
baratheonpilled
jacobvanloon
