#t // jealous mike

[marvey-sideblog]

[byierficrecs]

❝ thought i knew you for a minute ❞ author: @moonlightmiwi

link: archiveofourown.org/works/43694800

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[artbiter]

wolf in sheep's clothing

art donaldson/reader nsfw summary: art falls for you first yet patrick gets the fortune of having you. what else is art supposed to do but play dirty? tags: stanford!art, stanford reader too, art is a borderline homewrecker, art donaldson is a SNAKE, patrick gets cucked right under his nose </3, oral, slight body worship, TBH idk note: hi this is my first time writing ff since .. 2021 .. and this is definitely a diff style from the ao3-approach i usually take to writing but please enjoy i really like art donaldson i really like challengers and i really like art taking what he wants (and i really like mike faist in blonde curls)

art donaldson is not a homewrecker, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't waiting for his chance with you.

he first meets you at one of his games, eyes flitting over the crowd and panting hard after a rather close singles win, before his gaze is magnetically drawn to your pretty face in the bleachers. smiling with your friends, you look so happy to just be watching this game, and when you make eye contact with art you wave excitedly like he's a celebrity, and whisper to your friends after he salutes back with a grin, trying to catch the breath your gorgeous smile has knocked out of him.

he wants to find you so bad after, and so he does. your friends are tennis groupies, hanging behind to flirt with any guy with a racket in hand, but you're just there for moral support. he chases after you just before you leave, just to say hi. an innocuous greeting and thanks for your support. and he sees how jealous your friends are that you tag along once with them and immediately get picked up by art freaking donaldson, but you seem to be oblivious, beaming at him and clasping your hands to your chest. you tell him he was great out there, that you've never "gotten" tennis but that you can feel he's a pro anyway. you part ways and he can't stop thinking about you.

when he tells patrick that he's met the prettiest girl he's ever seen at one of his matches, patrick thinks it's endearing and the epitome of dumb puppy love.

"did you even get her name? or were you just drooling over her?"

"nah, that would've been weird... right? oh shit, should i have? i was trying to be normal about it, i don't know." art beats himself up for not even picking up on your name in conversation, and resolves to seek out your identity and ask you out.

so when he finally has the fortune of seeing you again at a party, he's heartbroken when you smile and wave to patrick in tow.

"patrick!" you laugh and bound up to the pair. "didn't take you as a stanford party type of guy."

"i'm a plus one tonight. lucky i ran into you, huh?" patrick is eye-fucking you and doesn't even try to hide it, and art feels like doubling over in pure grief.

patrick notices but says nothing, only introducing you to art. "yeah, i'm here with my buddy art." he slaps art on the back lightly and art finds out that you and patrick met at another party before this. he remembers you from patrick's anecdotes over lunch, where patrick wouldn't shut up about the hottest chick he's ever seen who wouldn't go home with him, but has been texting ever since.

some other girl, presumably one of your friends, attaches herself to art's arm for the rest of the night, but he can't bring himself to notice or care when patrick kisses you and you lean into it.

patrick got to you first, and art hates himself for it. he won't admit it, but he feels the resentment festering inside of him as soon as patrick announces it's official.

the next best course of action for art is to play the best friend role, obviously. except like the unassuming snake art is, he's going to be your best friend, too.

he's your puppy, waiting on your beck and call — whatever you need, he's got it. your bio homework is impossible? sure, you can copy his. you got no sleep last night? he has your regular order from your favorite café committed to memory. patrick's being such a bad boyfriend? oh, tell him all about it.

"he's so inconsiderate," you whine, slumping over your pillow. "can you believe he forgot our six months? and when i brought it up, he didn't even say sorry. he was just, like, 'i didn't know we were still in high school.' i wanted to die, art, really."

art clicks his tongue in sympathy, criss-crossed on your dorm floor and nodding along to your laments. "no, he's definitely wrong here. i'm sorry he forgot something so important." for good measure, he adds in, "guys should be looking out for their girlfriends all the time. i'd be celebrating monthly anniversaries if i had a girl."

"ugh, right? i thought so, too." you flop back onto your bed, turning your head to gaze at art. he thinks you're so beautiful like this, clad in a t-shirt and shorts, bare faced with tears tinging your eyes. "you're a good guy. i don't know why you don't just date."

he doesn't want to date anyone if it isn't you, but he doesn't say this.

art watches you and patrick continue for another few rocky months, marked by arguments spawned from patrick's chronic nonchalance and your sensitivity to his perceived lack of care. and art gets the full report from both sides; patrick tells him all the time about how he's really trying to make you happy and support you, but he doesn't see why you value such small things. and you cry to art, sobbing that patrick never takes you out anymore if it isn't to fuck, that patrick is too friendly to other girls. art thinks to himself that patrick doesn't deserve you, but he rubs small circles on your back and reassures you that you need to do what's right for yourself.

(he's elated when you don't remove yourself from his touch.)

when you finally break it off with patrick, he hears it from his best friend first.

"dude, she dumped me." patrick's voice buzzes over the phone. "not gonna lie, i saw this one coming. but i thought i was doing good, seriously. fuck, what am i gonna do?"

"i'm sorry, man," art sympathizes before he hears a knock on his door. "yeah, it really does suck. take a breather for a few days. i'm sorry, but i really have to go right now." he peeks into the peephole and sees you standing outside. "let's talk more later?"

patrick is still rambling on the other end, but art hangs up and opens the door for you to immediately come spilling.

"art, i broke up with him. i really couldn't do it anymore." you tell art more things he already knows, like that you liked patrick a lot but you were just uncompatible in the end, and that you wished he listened. as always, art feeds into you, agreeing with your every word. something deep inside art tells him it's wrong to coax his best friend's girlfriend into breaking up with him, and that he's messed up for offering you his support when patrick technically should come first. but when you look up at art through wet eyelashes, sniffling and yearning for comfort, who is he to deny you?

art cups your face gently and presses his lips to yours. he doesn't miss how your eyes widen, but you don't jerk away. his heart pounds in his chest as he holds the small of your back with one hand while the other caresses your cheek. you smell so clean and warm, and your lips are so soft art wonders how patrick could ever give you up without a fight. it solidifies art's need for you, that if patrick won't make you happy, he will.

when you pull away from him, you're breathless, voice barely above a whisper. "art, i don't think we should—"

he can't contain himself from kissing your neck, relishing the soft, smooth expanse, inhaling your scent so deep into his lungs he finds it oxygen. "tell me you don't want this." he laps at your jaw, sucking light bruises onto the sides of your throat. "tell me you don't want me to treat you the way you should be, and i'll stop."

you moan his name involuntarily, and art takes it as the green light to carry you to his bed and kisses back up to your lips. "i'm sorry," he murmurs into your skin. "i'm sorry. i want you so bad."

"then show me," you sigh softly, hands rooting themselves into his blonde curls as his tongue probes your mouth.

like you even had to ask.

tugging down your sweatpants and feeling like coming just as the sight of your underwear, art immediately tears it off of you. he latches himself to your cunt, already weeping, and he looks up at you through hooded eyes, pupils blown wide. "already so wet for me, baby?"

"mmf..." your fingers, still tangled in his hair, tighten their grip as you push his head forward, and he obliges.

he licks wide stripes, feeling you convulse and twitch every time his tongue comes in contact with your clit. his dick throbs in his pants just from eating you out.

"you taste so sweet. fuck, you're delicious," he pants, making out with your pussy like it's your lips. "don't know how i survived this long without you."

you buck your hips up into his mouth, mewling and spasming as he suckles and licks at just the right places. your cunt is soaked, but neither of you can tell whether it's from your arousal or how much art is slobbering over your pussy. "right there," you squeak out, a hot wave washing over your body as you cum on art's face.

and fuck, art almosts busts on the spot with you. his mouth doesn't cease, swirling patterns all over your vulva, grazing over your clit, dipping his tongue inside of you as you lock your legs around his head desperately.

"too much, too much!" you feebly try to pull his head up from your cunt, but he's so addicted to your taste he barely notices how sensitive you are now, how your clit twitches and aches for a break.

art can only laugh softly as he pulls himself back up to you, kissing you gently as his hands roam underneath your shirt and to your bra clasp.

"mm, you're so good," you gasp into art's mouth as his kiss becomes sloppier. "so good to me, art."

"it's what you deserve," he mumbles back, unhooking your bra and clumsily pulling your shirt off so your tits spill free. and even art is admired by his own self-restraint, just staring at your perfect body on display for him. he's been dreaming of this day for months now, jerking himself off late at night to thoughts of you sucking his cock, to pictures of you smiling on his phone, to the memory of your voice the day he met you. it's so wrong of him to fuck his best friend's ex fresh after the split, but why do you feel so right beneath him? "i've been waiting for this," he whispers into your neck. "been wanting to show you how much i want you. want to make you feel good. want to treat you so much better."

"fuck me, art, please," you beg him, relenting and palming at his boxers. you're so fucking easy, letting him touch you like this and being compliant as he undresses you, kisses you all over, shrugs his boxers off as you help him position his cock right at your entrance. it's not your fault that art has been nothing but kind and gentle to you. it's not your fault that he's been flirting with you since day 1, and now all his desires have culminated into head of a lifetime. and art finally has what he wants now: you.

and even when he barely pushes the tip in, he wants to cum inside of you so badly he feels dizzy. "so fucking tight, i'm gonna cum, gonna cum right now," he gasps in your ear as he unsheathes himself, stretching your warm, tight hole. "so perfect, holy shit. fucking made for me, baby, you feel so—" he can't stop himself from rutting into you, and he just about comes undone when he hears his name tumble from your lips in pained moans. it takes all the self-control in the world for art to not pour himself into your wet heat right now.

"slow down, art, fuck, you're so big," you sob, clawing at his back. he wishes he could fuck you nice and slow, the way he always envisioned his first time with you would be. he'd fantasized about nights with you full of languid strokes, making you scream his name with calculated, intentional thrusts straight to the spongy patch buried within you. but art is just a humble man, and when your walls, silky and warm, are choking his dick, he can't resist fucking into you like a jackhammer. you cry, moaning uncontrollably as your hands clutch tightly at him, letting his cock ruin you.

art's head goes fuzzy, and all he knows now is your pussy trying to milk him dry and that he can't say anything coherent besides strings of guttural moans telling you how warm, how tight, how good you feel on his dick, how your sweet cunt was made for him, how beautiful you look and sound at his mercy, how he wants you to be his so bad and that he'll do anything for you to be his. that his only regret is not claiming you first.

you keep crooning in his ear, honeyed moans that intoxicate him dizzier and dizzier as you tell him that he can have you. with a few more stutters of his hips, and a convulsing squeeze from your walls onto his cock, his head falls into the crook of your neck as he pulls out and shoots ropes all over your stomach, right as you cry out his name uncontrllably, heaving beneath him. a low, resounding grunt rips from his throat while his seed paints your abdomen, and he feels you shiver upon the warmth touching your skin.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes again like the gentleman he is. his breath still heaves at an uneven rhythm, staggering as he attempts to regain his composure, but every time his eyes fall upon you it feels like he wants to go for round 2. "i'll clean you up, pretty girl. you were so perfect." he presses his forehead to yours, sweaty and damp, and whispers, "you were made for me."

some sick sense of pride fills art from head to toe as your body trembles in an attempt to catch your breath, your hair disheveled and lips puffy, patches of skin blooming pink and red from art essentially making out with every inch of your body. and you blush when you catch him staring, covering your face and murmuring for him to come back to bed.

he did this to you. he made you such a picturesque image of ruined perfection, splayed out on his bed and stained with his cum, pleading for his embrace.

patrick would have to pry you from his cold, dead hands.

[itneverendshere]

a circus ain't a love story - baby daddy! rafe.

request: "baby daddy! rafe where reader and rafe are not together and she’s going on dates with men and he’s jealous but not like possessive jealous but like 🤭 jealous?" @zyafics

warnings: cursing; rafe's an asshole but he's just going through it <3; a lil angsty??; lots of tension and pent-up frustration; they just need to fuck it out honestly.

rafe likes to think of himself as a changed man. 

long gone is the reckless impulsive guy that reigned horror in the outer banks. he’s grown now, the man of the family, and a father. he spends his days working hard, providing for his family, and cherishing every moment with his baby girl. 

but when he learns you’ve been seeing other men after your ‘amicable’ breakup, he feels like he’s nineteen and ranging in misplaced anger all over again. younger days, when his temper ruled his actions and consequences were an afterthought.

old insecurities resurface, whispering doubts and fears into his mind.

you’d broken up before, years ago, and it barely lasted a month before both of you caved in. but now? now, you have a baby together, and for some reason, the breakup feels…permanent. 

he thought you just needed a breather from him, a little space to settle your mind after going through all the changes with your pregnancy. maybe he took you for granted, maybe he became too comfortable, too complacent in the belief that your love was unshakeable. and he’s paying for it. 

“where the fuck are you going?”

he knows exactly where you’re going, he’s just a masochist.

rafe’s always been vocal about his thoughts around you, having virtually no filter between his brain and mouth. it’s something you’ve gotten used to after five years in a relationship, the man is nothing if not blunt and crass. but now, it's different.

you’re not a couple anymore. you shouldn't have to put up with his nagging bullshit. but you have a child together, which means that you’ll never be able to fully scratch him out of your system. 

how were you so good before and yet so terrible once your daughter got here? 

you sigh, choosing to keep your back to him. 

“date.”

you hear him snort, not even having to peek to know he’s shaking his head, blue eyes lingering between your new dress and the ceiling, “my bad. thought you were going to a gala.”

you turn then, hand on your waist as you take him in. it’s hard not to stare at his freshly shaved hair and it only makes you want to slap him stupid for not doing it years ago. what’s the point if you can’t have him? 

“why? it’s not illegal to put in effort.” you tilt your head slightly, ignoring the way his eyes are burning holes through your shiny legs.

he pulls his eyes back to your face, but all you can see is the imprinted vision of your daughter laying on his chest earlier, her chubby cheek pressed against his shirt and her little hand curled around his finger. 

rafe’s heart clenches, the bitterness of your words sinking deep into his bones. he knows what you're implying, knows that you're trying to hurt him.

“he’s worth all that, huh?”

you shrug your shoulder, pieces of your hair falling back as you attempt to act nonchalantly, “maybe he is.”

rafe’s lips twitch into a half-smirk, half-grimace, a familiar expression that used to make your heart race but now just knots your stomach.

“who is it this time? it’s just kinda hard to keep track of your dates.”

his gaze lingers on you, searching for something, perhaps a hint of the girl he fell in love with, buried beneath layers of resentment and exhaustion.

you grit your teeth, the frustration growing beneath the surface threatening to spill over, “you don’t know him.”

he shakes his head, a humorless chuckle escaping his lips. “got yourself a touron?”

“don’t piss me off.”

he raises his hands in mock surrender. “i’m not trying to. just curious.”

“his name is mike.”

rafe's lips quirk into a sardonic smile as he hears the name. "mike, huh? sounds like a guy who sells insurance or teaches yoga on the weekends."

you shoot him a glare, unamused by his jest. "can you just be serious for once?"

catching sight of the offended look in your face, he adds, “it’s not my fault you keep choosing the ugly ones.”

you stare at him incredulously, “you don’t even know him!”

“hear me out, okay? if you’re ever going to give charlotte a sibling might as well—“

you’d throw the mug on your kitchen table at his head if charlotte wasn’t sleeping in the room next door.

“you think you’re so fucking funny don’t you?!” 

rafe hushes you, one of his hands rising to his lips, “what happened to no cursing in the house?”

your eye twitches, fingers itching to wrap themselves around his throat. “i’ll strangle you right here, rafe.”

“you got a new kink, mama?”

his ability to push your buttons has always been unparalleled, and it seems he's mastered the art even more since your breakup. he still manages to evoke a weird mixture of irritation and fondness within you.

“you can’t keep doing this. i like mike, maybe i want to date mike.”

rafe's expression shifts, his brows furrowing slightly as if your words have struck a chord. but then, just as quickly, his facade hardens again. he raises an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "i’m just trying to help. you said the exact same thing about whatever his fucking name was two months ago.”

you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “see! you’re trying to patronize me.”

“’m not.”

“right,” you mutter, rolling your eyes, “course you aren’t.”

his taunting smirk is more than a little infuriating. “i just doubt this guy is gonna stick around.”

“oh, so that’s it?” you prod him, laughing in his face, hands curling into tight fists. you get closer, staring him down as you look upwards. “we’re back to lying to each other now?”

rafe’s face is contorted into a grimace; eyebrows furrowed, and you can feel his steady breathing before he speaks.

”i can do this all day.” he scoffs, a bitter edge creeping into his voice, “i think the moment you tell him about charlotte he’s gonna run back to whatever hole he creeped out of. you think he wants to be a daddy?”

“who said he has to? that’s your job. maybe i just want to fuck him, you ever think about that?” the admission feels like a betrayal and a liberation all at once.

it’s a familiar dance you two have been doing since the breakup – hurling accusations and blame at each other like weapons in a war neither of you can win.

rafe’s smirk fades into a scowl as your words hit him like a slap in the face. he takes a step back, one of his hands instinctively rising in a placating gesture, but there's a defiant glint in his eyes that tells you he's not backing down without a fight. 

his jaw tightens, “now you’re just trying to get under my skin.”

you throw your hands up in despair, “it’s always about you, unbelievable.” 

you feel like your heart is being vacuumed into your stomach as he stares.

“me?” his fingers dig into his chest, as if you’ve shot him right there, “you're the one who's constantly bringing up other guys, rubbing it in my face like- like i'm supposed to just sit back and take it."

you let out a slow controlled breath and attempt to loose your body movements. “we’re not doing this again.”

rafe knows he's treading on thin ice, but relents, “oh, m’sorry sweets. forgot you hate to be reminded i care.”

“care?” you laugh but it’s void of any humor, “is this your way of showing me you care? making me miserable? slut-shaming the mother of your daughter?”

“didn’t mean it like that, don’t twist my words.”

you square your shoulders, refusing to let him see the cracks in your armor. "you said what you said, and you can't take it back."

his jaw clenches, and you can almost hear the gears turning in his mind as he searches for the right words to say, “you’re pushing it.”

there’s a fiery anger in your eyes that makes his body warm. “so fucking what?”

without a word, rafe closes the distance between you, his movements tentative yet purposeful. his hand reaches out, fingers gripping your cheeks, his rough touch sending your body into a frenzy. you want to push him away, but the pull between you is too strong to resist. you’ve been yearning for his touch for months, no one knows how to pull your strings like he does.

“you drive me fucking insane, y’know that?”

you merely blink, pretending to be bored, “go fuck yourself.”

and then, in a rush of pent-up desire and frustration, rafe snakes a hand around the back of your head to pull you to meet him in a passionate kiss.

it’s all sorts of desperate as if trying to bridge the problems between you, you're arching into him as his hand trails down your spine. his tongue is brushing across yours in a tentative swipe before you’re meeting him halfway, kissing him urgently. there's a hunger in rafe’s touch, a desperation to reclaim what his lost, and you respond in kind, your hands roaming over his back, tracing the contours of his muscles with a familiarity that sends shivers down his spine.

“you’re not going on a fucking date.” he pants between kisses, the way his lips caress your face keeping you close distracting you momentarily.

“you can’t stop me.” 

his hand slides around your waist, over the curve of your ass, grabbing a handful in the process, “watch me.”

[blue-blue-blooms]

A Little Crush   

Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader

Part 1

Summary: In which Eddie develops a crush on the Henderson sister.

You weren't sure exactly when your life had gone to absolute shit. Was it when you found a strange, superpowered adolescent girl living in Mike Wheeler's basement? Was it when you walked in on a baby demogorgan eating your cat? Or was it when you were drugged by evil Russians operating under Starcourt Mall? You couldn't even remember a time when life was normal. If someone had told you that you would become best friends with Steve 'The Hair' Harrington and fight literal monsters from an alternate universe alongside Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan 'The Creep' Byers a few years ago, you would've laughed in their face. Now? You'd survived the most traumatising events of your life alongside these people. You were bonded for life.

The last few years had also made you closer with Dustin. You loved your baby brother and his weird friends, especially since you'd spent so much time babysitting them. But no amount of love could make you say yes to what they were asking of you.

"Please?" Dustin begged, following you down the hallway as you made your way to Ms. O'Connell's class.

"No! I have, like, three essays due this week, Dustin. I don't have the time to sub." You respond.

"It's only for tonight! Lucas can't make it and we really need a sub. We're nearly done with the campaign and Eddie will kill us if we make him reschedule!" Dustin pleads.

You were really happy that Dustin and Mike had found a safe space in high school. Lord knows those two idiots needed it. Freshmen year is probably the toughest of them all. You're new, scared, and lonely. You were really glad that they'd found friends, a place where they could be their nerdy selves and feel accepted. Hell, even you'd dabbled in their interests when you'd babysat them. DnD wasn't half bad, and not nearly as hard to undertand as you once thought. You'd spent many nights in Mike's basement playing with them. The first few times, you'd get your character killed in the first fifteen minutes. But after a while, you started making progress (even though you're convinced that the party was exceptionally lenient with you after you once burst into tears over getting killed off).

"I'll do your half of the chores for a week!" Dustin exclaims.

That makes you stop.

"A week?" You turn around to look at him, "Make it two weeks and I'll sub."

"Two? Are you insane!?" Dustin yells, making a few people lingering in the hallway turn and look at you both.

"Two or no deal, Dusty Buns," You tease, "And be quick, I'm late for my class."

"Fine!" Dustin says, "And stop calling me 'Dusty Buns'"

"Why? Is that nickname just for Suzy Poo?" You tease.

Dustin glowers at you as you walk off.

♡♡♡

"So, who's the DM?" You ask as you walk alongside Dustin and Mike.

"It's Eddie, Eddie Munson. He's a senior. Long hair, wears a hellfire T-Shirt, I talk about him constantly. God, do you ever listen to me?" Dustin claims exasperatedly.

"Oh! Eddie as in your new favorite older male best friend who Steve's weirdly jealous of?" You ask, "I've seen him around. Is he the one who jumps on lunch tables and yells a lot?"

"Yup." Mike responded, "He's a bit scary when he's revved up. Just warning you beforehand in case he comes off...a bit intimidating."

You nod.

"Hasn't he been held back, like, three times?" You ask.

Before either of the boys could answer, you reach the room. The first thing you see is the table where the game is set. There are three boys sat around, all with Hellfire T-Shirts on. Your eyes fleet from one to the other until finally landing on Eddie. You recognise him immediately from the amount of times you've seen him yelling in the cafeteria.

Dustin and Mike failed to mention how cute he was, you think.

His hair was long and wavy. He was wearing multiple rings. And he was covered in tattoos. You're pretty sure you saw a few bats peeking from under his sleeve.

"Who's this?" One of the guys asks, making all three turn around and look at you.

"This is Y/N! She's subbing for Lucas!" Mike says, the words spilling out fast and nervously.

Why the hell are they so jittery?

"Yeah, she's my sister! The one I mentioned a couple days ago." Dustin adds.

"Does she even know how to play DnD?" The other boy asks.

"Okay, excuse me, I wouldn't have come if I didn't know how to play," You finally speak, waving your hand a little to get their attention.

"So, this is your infamous sister?" Eddie finally speaks, his eyes landing on you, "You know, I thought he made you up. What's your class and level? Level One Elf?"

Elf? Is he mocking me?

"Are you mocking me?" You ask incredously.

"Is he mocking me?" you turn towards Dustin and Mike who immediately start gesticulating, probably asking you to shut up.

"My name is Aeren Sirenfall and I'm a level 14 chaotic good half-elf rogue. I will sneak behind any monster you throw my way and stab them in the back with my poison-soaked kukri. And I'll smile as I watch them die a slow...agonising...death." You say, your voice slow and hard as you glare at Eddie, "So, are we gonna play this stupid game or not?"

You're pretty sure you hear one of the boys mutter a 'she's terrifying' to Dustin.

You watch as Eddie's eyes slowly soften and a grin emerges on his face, "Welcome to Hellfire Club."

[mymindisneverhere]

Summary: Terrys been spending a lot of time helping Summer recover and you can’t help but to feel neglected and a bit jealous.

warnings: angst, fluff, and some jealousy

Let’s Make Up

It’s been a few weeks since Summer's recovery and you’ve been completely understanding of her and Terry's friendship. Ever since Terry lost his cousin and witnessing Summer almost lose her life, he was overcome with panic and anxiety. Although Mike's death wasn’t Terrys fault, he still took on a great deal of guilt for his passing.

With Summer coming face to face with death, Terry spent every free moment he could making sure she was okay. He made sure she had the food she needed, he was sure she got lots of rest and spent time with her daughter. However all of the time he spent with her was time away from you and you couldn’t help but to feel a hint of jealousy.

“Hi Summer, how are you feeling?” You greeted with a forced smile.

“I’m doing much better.” Summer responded. “The doctors said as long as I keep myself hydrated and active I should be back to normal really soon.”

“That’s good.” You said.

You were in the kitchen preparing dinner for you, Terry, and now Summer. You tried to hide your emotions but as the days went by it was becoming more of a challenge.

“Summer’s staying for dinner, is that okay?” Terry asked, grabbing a cold water out of the fridge.

“Sure.” You responded dryly. “Thanks for the heads up, again.”

Summer and Terry couldn’t help but to catch the sarcasm in your tone. It wasn’t like you were trying to hide it anyway.

Every night for the past three weeks, you’d prepare dinner for the two of you and just when you thought you’d finally have an intimate evening with your husband, here comes Summer at the last minute. You were stuck between feeling sorry for her situation and also wanting your husband back. Yeah she needed the help getting back herself, but how long was that going to take?

“You okay?” Terry whispered to you, placing a hand on your lower back.

You quickly brushed his hand away and headed to the sink with a bowl of potatoes to rinse them.

“Yep.” You turn the water on full blast hoping to drown out anything else Terry was about to say.

Terry looked over at Summer not needing to say anything. Summer could take a hint so she decided to head home.

“I’ll just go, I don’t wanna overstay my welcome.” Summer smiled nervously, grabbing her bag and car keys. “I’ve gotta take my meds anyway, see you guys later. Thanks again T.”

“Be careful Summer.” Terry watched carefully as Summer exited the house and waited a few seconds before hearing her Volvo start up and pull off.

“Is everything okay?” Terry asked, turning his attention back to you, his voice calm.

“Peachy.” You responded, sarcasm lacing your tongue yet again.

Terry took a deep breath and placed his water on the counter. Ever so often he would pick up on your side comments and petty remarks. He had to admit that sometimes the immaturity was not the most flattering on you. Although he could do without the childish games, he understood you better than anyone else did so he’d give you a pass.

“It’s nothing Terry.” You stated. You grabbed a knife from the drawer and began aggressively chopping the potatoes.

He knew not to fight fire with fire, especially with you. It would get you guys nowhere. As sensitive as you were, he knew to deal with you accordingly. He was never one for ego trips, so he had no problem doing whatever he could to be sure you two were in perfect harmony. Even if that meant swallowing his pride and letting you throw your tantrums.

“Come on babe, don’t do that.” He said, hinting at your passive aggressive behavior. “Talk to me, tell me what’s bothering you instead of making me guess.”

“Is Summer your wife now? Cause it sure as hell feels like it.” You spat, turning to face him, knife still in hand.

Terry eyed the knife then you.

“You wanna put the knife down?” He said, his eyes darting back and forth between you and the knife.

“I’m not gonna cut you Terry…” You started. “Unless I need to.”

You stared up at him with a raised brow.

Most people would find Terry intimidating. His height, his authoritative voice and stern expression caused most to shrink in his presence. But you didn’t care about any of that, especially not at the moment.

“You can’t possibly think I’ve done anything with Summer.” He joked, smiling slightly. He couldn’t believe what you were suggesting just by the face you were making.

Your expression quickly changed from skepticism to anger. You were never really a jealous woman but you needed time and attention. If he wasn’t giving it to you then it was going to Summer, and what exactly was she doing to get so much attention from your husband?

You knew about her condition. You knew about her past struggles with drugs and how she was fighting to get her daughter back. But Summer was a grown woman who should’ve been able to take care of herself at some point.

“So this is a joke to you?” You questioned. You slammed the knife down onto the counter and brushed past Terry, heading to your bedroom.

“You can’t be serious right now.” He was right behind you. “She just got out of the hospital from an overdose. I walked her into the hospital, I made sure she was okay, she could’ve died hadn’t I taken her in time. Am I supposed to just leave her and disappear like I don’t care?”

“You know that’s not what I'm saying, do not make me seem like I'm some heartless person!” You shot back, turning to meet him face to face.

“Then what is it?” He asked, genuine confusion written over his face.

“Terry, when was the last time we had movie night?” You began. “When was the last time we went on a date? Hell, when was the last time we fell asleep together in our bed?”

“Some days you’re so out of touch with reality and so laser focused on fixing another person, I don’t even know what’s going on with you!”

Terry relaxed his shoulders and let out a sigh of defeat. He didn’t realize that him being so concerned about Summer, who was solely a friend, would result in him neglecting you and your needs.

“Every day you leave out early in the morning and come home late at night and the nights when you do make it home in time, guess who's right behind you?” You were pissed beyond belief. “I spend the days all alone, do you know how empty it feels to know my husband isn’t home to hold me while I fall asleep? That he much rather be out playing nurse than to be here with me making sure I’m okay? Or did you forget you were even married?”

He stood silently staring down at you with a look of regret and sorrow.

“I didn’t know.” He admitted.

You scoffed and turned to take a seat on your side of the bed. You couldn’t believe that the only thing he could muster up was “I didn’t know.”. He needed to try ten times harder than that or he would be falling asleep in the living room for the next few nights.

“Baby listen.” Terry spoke. He walked over to you taking a seat in the chair across from you.

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel like you were second to Summer, those weren’t my intentions at all.” He stated, his eyes locked onto yours. “It’s just…”

He took a breath and ran his hands down his face.

“I’ve been feeling this heavy sense of guilt since Mike passed. After all I did to bring some sort of justice to his death and Summer being the one to help me in all of this, I didn’t know what to do when Summer wasn’t responsive after what those cops did to her.” He looked down at his hands. “I didn’t know if I could handle both of those deaths back to back like that.”

“I just wanted to run from the guilt that I felt so I made it my priority to try and nurse her back to health and in doing that I neglected you and I’m sorry.” His eyes were filled with remorse, turning a soft brown as he stared at you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you felt guilty for Mike’s death, we could’ve talked about it?” You asked him.

“I was just trying to be strong I guess, not let the emotions catch up to me.” He chuckled. “The Marines will do that to you.”

“Well you’re not there anymore.” You stated in all seriousness. “If you can’t tell me what’s going on with you, then what am I here for?”

“You’re right.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t want you to neglect Summer either but I need you to find some balance in this. You can care for your friend and still be here for me as well, she’s not the only one who needs you.” You added.

The two of you stared at each other for a few moments, the sound of cars passing by being the only noise in the room.

“Mike’s death isn’t on you but at least you know he’s in a much better place and so is Summer. She’s healthy, she’s got her weight back and she’s a big girl, she can handle herself.” You stated. “You can stop trying to play Superman for everyone, you need to take care of yourself too.”

He nodded in agreement.

“You forgive me?” He looked at you with pleading eyes.

You waited a few seconds before responding just to admire the look on his face. Although you two had your moments, he was so good to you. He never hesitated to right whatever wrong he had done.

But he had a lot of making up to do and you knew exactly how you wanted him to do it.

“Not yet.” You smirked, staring down at his lips

He paused, catching onto what you were suggesting. A small smile crept onto his face as he shook his head.

“What I gotta do?” He asked, staring at your lips, his eyes fading from soft brown to green.

“Whatever I say…” You said, standing up and towering over him.

Little did he know he was in for a long night…

*Next Day*

You slowly opened your eyes, the sunlight beaming through your thin curtains. You rolled over to find your bed empty, again. Sitting upright, you looked around the room wondering how he was gone yet again after the talk you two had last night.

Just when you felt yourself becoming upset, the smell of breakfast filled your nostrils and you began to blush. The aroma of pancakes, eggs, bacon and fresh fruit filled your home and you knew who was responsible for that.

Terry didn’t cook often simply because you enjoyed being in the kitchen most of the time and he didn’t want to interrupt your flow. You guys weren’t a completely traditional couple but while you handled most of the cooking, he took care of the rest of the house work and you two were okay with that.

You rushed to brush your teeth and wash your face before heading into the kitchen. Terry was there in his pajama pants, no shirt with a kitchen towel hanging off his shoulder. You giggled to yourself as you noticed how seriously he would take things, even the smallest tasks.

He didn’t notice you walk in so you decided to lean against the wall admiring the view. You watched as he moved around the kitchen like a professional. The way his muscles tensed with every flip of the pancake, the way his tattoos appeared so clearly against his smooth skin, you could sit and watch him do anything all day long.

“You know you've never been good at sneaking up on me.” He joked, without turning to face you. Terry was always 100% alert and aware of his surroundings even in his own home. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t sense no matter how small it was. It was ingrained in him to be so hyper vigilant.

You stood up straight, taking your weight off of the wall and walked over to him. “Damn Marines.” You kissed your teeth in annoyance.

He laughed and placed the last of the breakfast onto a large plate on the table where the rest of the food sat.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He said, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“Good morning.” You took a seat at the kitchen table and placed a tablecloth on your lap.

“How’d you sleep?” He asked.

“I slept well, finally having you next to me, I didn’t toss and turn all night.” You said looking up at him. “I really missed you baby. You’ve been up all morning cooking all this food?”

“Of course, anything for you.” He stated. He sat a plate right in front of you and another directly across from you. “I figured I could start off by cooking your favorite meal of the day.”

He reached into fridge and grabbed two juices and looked to you. “Apple or Orange?” He inquired, holding up both jugs of juice in each hand.

“Apple, duh!” You laughed.

“I just wanted to give you options.” He joined you in laughter.

He poured two tall glasses of juice for the two of you and took a seat across from you. The two of you sat enjoying the food and much needed conversation. It had been such a long time since you actually sat together, you had so much catching up to do.

Terry sat fully tuned in as you filled him in on the latest gossip of the town and at work. He loved how you got so excited just to share something as simple as lighthearted drama on the job with him. He missed your sense of humor and animated personality, it was the perfect match for his calm and relaxed demeanor.

“Knock Knock.” A familiar voice rang out, it was Summer.

“We're in the kitchen.” Terry announced, looking at you. He continued eating his breakfast as if nothing was happening.

You stared back at him with an unreadable expression. You weren’t upset but you weren’t happy either.

“I’m just coming to deliver a package before I head into town to see my little girl.” Summer said before turning the corner holding a large bouquet of roses.

You looked at her in shock and then back to Terry, a sly smirk on his face as he ate his breakfast. She held bright pink roses in her hands, your favorite flowers, the same ones Terry bought you on your first date, during your engagement and for every anniversary.

“Oh my God.” You stood up from your seat and grabbed the flowers from her, the both of you struggling to hold up the weight, considering your stature.

“Terry asked if I could bring these by on my way into town.” Summer started. “My neighbors are florists so it wasn’t a bother at all.”

“Thank you Summer, I really appreciate it.” You said with a soft smile. The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds, not really needing to say much because your expressions told it all. Hers soft and apologetic and yours grateful yet compassionate.

“Well I have to go, don’t wanna be late.” Summer stated, breaking the silence.

“Enjoy your time with your daughter.” Terry said, walking Summer to the door. “Be careful up there.”

“Will do.” Summer said.

Terry walked back into the kitchen to see you smelling your roses, a huge smile on your face that always warmed his heart. He didn’t need to distract himself from the loss of his cousin by smothering Summer. He needed to be home with you, his wife. Just the sight of you being happy was enough to make him feel better again.

“You were about to go off on me again, weren’t you?” Terry smiled, folding his arms over his chest.

“No.” You lied. The expression on Terrys face let you know he didn’t believe you one bit.

“I mean I was just surprised, but I love them so much, they’re beautiful baby.” You said, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“I don’t know where I wanna put them.” You searched around the kitchen for the perfect spot.

“Just place them down for now.” He instructed.

He took your hand and led you to the living room where blankets and pillows sat on the floor. All of your favorite snacks and candy, popcorn and bottles of wine. There were tea lights lit around the floor and fireplace. Your eyes darted around the room, taking in everything before your eyes landed on the TV.

You looked up at Terry in complete shock and excitement.

“I rented all five Twilight movies,” He started. “We’re binging all day, I got all your favorites. It’s just you, me and your favorite movie all day and all night.”

“How did you have the time to do all of this?” You asked genuinely wondering how he set all of this up.

“Well I figured you’d be in a deep sleep after last night.” He joked with a flirtatious smirk on his face. “So I got up a little early and got to work.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest. You relaxed into his arms and let out a deep sigh of satisfaction. You felt young again, like he was courting you, trying to win your heart and make you his all over again.

“I won’t ever go missing on you like that again baby, I promise.” He said looking down into your eyes. “I love you.” The serious expression on his face telling you that he was being completely real with you.

“I love you more Terry.” The two of you kissed again before snuggling onto the pallet on the floor and enjoying each other’s company for the rest of the day.

(Please excuse any mistakes! 🩵)

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

french press

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

wc: 1.2k reader: femme/gender neutral (gender warnings: reader is wearing lingerie, reader "pushes t*ts together" -- you've been warned) warnings: smut 18+; MINORS DNI!!! -- specific warnings under the cut -- also some angst and some funny stuff summary: jiwoong has a biiit of a jealousy problem. he's so jealous rn that he won't even touch you :( with his permission, you take matters into your own hands (and onto his thigh). *ੈ✩‧₊˚ oh helloooo. long time no see. decided to write something for the hell of it. maybe i'll write some more soon...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

~

warnings: 18+ explicit smut, thigh-riding, penetrative sex (reader receiving), descriptions of cum (reader's and jw's), unprotected sex, cumming inside, jealousy/toxicity, swearing, pet names (baby, angel)

also the title is VERY clever. french press: french masseusse pierre and... mating press. i'll leave now.

~

“baby,” you whine, pushing your arms together a bit to accentuate your tits. “don’t you wanna touch? you love touching my tits.”

the sheer, black lingerie set you were saving for a special occasion is hugging every curve of your body perfectly as you straddle your boyfriend. a garter belt squeezing around your right thigh, you know you’re irresistible to anyone with a pulse.

but apparently your boyfriend has passed away since he sat down on the couch with a huff twenty minutes ago. he’s still warm though and that’s permission enough for you to let him have it.

“oh my god,” you groan; smacking your hand on the leather armrest like a frustrated child. “woongie! want you to touch me so bad.”

“well, you should’ve thought of that before you let another man put his hands all over you,” jiwoong answers-- head turning to the side in the ultimate display of pettiness. 

you sigh exasperatedly. “it was a massage, woongie. a professional one that you paid for!”

“so?” he asks with a pout. “are you suggesting i’m a cuckold by my own doing?”

“you are the only one suggesting that actually,” you reply, running your hands down his clothed chest. “the only thing i’m suggesting is that you fuck me. and i’m strongly suggesting it.”

“oh yeah?” jiwoong responds, one eyebrow raised in interest. “are you sure those words aren’t actually meant for pierre: the unnecessarily handsome french masseuse?”

“you literally gave me a gift certificate for my birthday!” you exclaim, hitting his chest lightly in frustration. “baby, i tried to request an ugly massage therapist. the woman at the desk looked at me like i was being rude. and i was! for you.”

jiwoong’s eyes go straight to your barely-covered core and you think for a second he’s finally about to give in. “you asked for an ugly masseuse and she gave you a former louis vuitton runway model? i should’ve just given you tickets to magic mike live!”

“kim jiwoong-ah, if you don’t fck me right now, i swear to god,” you threaten emptily, sinking down on one of his grey sweatpant-adorned thighs. “i’m just gonna use you however i want.”

jiwoong folds his arms across his chest in a final act of defiance, attention returning to the tv screen. “knock yourself out.”

it takes everything in you not to whine like a little spoiled brat, but you manage to suppress it. instead, you grind a little harder down onto jiwoong’s thigh. his legs are lazily spread apart in the most enticing way. you could reach right down his pants and grab him in your hands (a tried and true method that jiwoong loves), but you have something to prove too.

so you repeat the grinding motion, your heat connecting again with the toned flesh of your boyfriend’s perfect thighs. at first it’s just for show-- you need his attention and you’ll do anything you have to to get it back.

but after a few moments, a soft moan escapes your throat. jiwoong’s breath audibly hitches; his body stiffening a bit at the sound of your pleasure. despite this, his eyes stay fixed on the screen.

as a familiar knot grows just below your stomach, you almost start to forget about your goal. maybe it’s desperation speaking, but riding your boyfriend’s thigh is actually a lot more stimulating than you thought it’d be. 

“fuck,” you whine, increasing your pace involuntarily. your hands are gripping the back of the couch, eyes closing as you rapidly approach your high.

suddenly, jiwoong’s thigh grows harder-- a sturdier surface for you to grind on. he’s flexing his muscles for you, helping you reach your climax like the perfect boyfriend he is.

“gonna cum all over my thigh, baby?” jiwoong asks, voice already noticeably fucked out. it’s not a mystery who won this game. “gonna make a mess all over my pants like a fucking angel?”

“i--... oh my god, i--...” you cry, strong hands finding your hips and guiding them down for you onto his thigh. you place your hand gently at the base of jiwoong’s neck, pulling at the collar of his shirt and toying with his collarbone. “i--... ‘m cumming...”

pleasure taking over, you reach your high as jiwoong continues to guide your hips for you. “woongie, love you. love you so much.”

your eyes flutter open to see jiwoong’s cheeks flushed, his eyes locked on your core. you look down to find that you have made a pretty little mess, honey dripping from you and soaking his grey sweatpants. he lifts you ever so slightly up and back down, watching as your juices seep through your sheer panties and onto him.

jiwoong meets your gaze for less than a second before you’re wrestled off the couch and onto your back on the carpeted floor below. carpet aside, it’s not a painless fall and as your boyfriend is hungrily ripping his pants off and burying his cock inside you, you decide it’s a good time to start playing again.

“oh my god, woongie,” you complain, knowing that your back’s gonna hurt even worse in the morning. “are you trying to make me need another massage?”

“no. more. massages,” jiwoong growls, punctuating each word with a deep thrust. “unless i’m the one giving them.”

“fuck,” you whine, pulling him even deeper inside you as you wrap your legs around him. trapping him. holding him hostage exactly where his possessive ass wants to be. “surely you don’t think you’re as skilled as a professional masseuse?”

“i’ll get certified,” he manages to grunt, grabbing hold of your thighs and pushing them up to your chest in a mating press. “or would you prefer pierre’s cock inside you instead?”

“that’s not fair,” you reply, absolutely relishing in your reinstated role of bratty sub. “how can i choose if i’ve never seen both options?”

“you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” jiwoong asks, kneading your thighs mercilessly-- striking his palm across the side with a gorgeous smack. “you’re gonna kill me so you can fuck pierre and then kill him too.”

“i’ll let you live a little longer if you cum inside me,” you promise, running your hand through his hair as he stares at you helplessly. “please, woongie. need you to fill me up.”

you can see it in his eyes: he’ll give you anything you want. he’d even let you fuck pierre if you really wanted to. but you don’t. not even a little bit. you just want jiwoong.

“fuck, i love you so much, baby,” he pants as his thrusts grow shallower and more sporadic. “gonna fill up this perfect... little...”

his hips finally spasm; a sweet moan swallowed down as you feel him spill into you. you sigh contentedly at the warmth inside of you, your boyfriend laying his head on your chest-- letting go of your legs from where he’d been pinning them and collapsing on top of you in exhaustion.

you wrap your thighs around jiwoong’s waist, making sure he can’t escape (he doesn’t want to).

jiwoong’s jealousy issues weren’t really harmful. he knew you’d never actually leave him for another man; what he always seemed to forget is that you’d never even dream of it. and besides, whatever misunderstanding arose always ended in fiery, passionate sex like this. 

so could anyone really blame you for making up sexy french massage therapists just to make your boyfriend jealous from time to time? not to worry... you’ll give jiwoong a couple months to recover from pierre before you drop your next fabrication on him: dante, the sensual italian chef.

[despairots]

miles 42 and miles 1610 are twins and fight over reader and try to impress her and stuff

━━━━━━━━ talk about first impressions.

earth1610! miles morales x gn! reader x earth42! miles morales. fluff and warning, there’s some suggestive comments from grown adults. i started this yesterday but im posting once/twice a day until i burn myself out from writing and deleting requests. reader is like peni parker. ignore the description, my brain was idk.

please remember that in my last oneshot, earth 1610 miles will be spiderman and earth 42 miles will be the prowler, the two are vigilantes, keep that in mind. also you’re an anarchist lolsies!!1!1! the spanish translation might not be accurate. leaving this on a cliffhanger too LMFAO. you’re always an anarchist in these oneshots.

where the morales twins can’t help but fall for the technology nerd who can do a lot of things, trying to impress you and gift you stuff in public, and with you, obviously being a talented person, you apparently have a lot of admirers, especially weird, old, strange adults.

you sighed in embarrassment at the two morales twins trying one up eachother with giving gifts to you or impressing you. some people would call you lucky, some would be jealous of you.

being fought over the two most attractive guys in brooklyn vision who may look the same but act like polar opposites is a nightmare.

the two may be extremely smart and artistic but they for sure, had different personalities.

miles morales is smart and passionate, committed to others before himself. he has a lot of love for science and art, which he got from his mother, making inventions since he was younger.

the two are both suckers for music, mixing beats as a hobby with their uncle aaron when they were younger.

miles is sociable around crowds, as even when he struggled to fit in after moving to brooklyn vision, would often start conversations with those he came across on the street.

though many of his acts are selfless, mikes is partly driven by low self-confidence in his own abilities, feeling smaller than he is.

since becoming spiderman, miles is extremely eager to help others. this is as much to his credit as it is to his detriment, as he will often put himself in grave, life-threatening danger, in his quest to protect his friends and those he cares about.

myles morales, on the other hand, may also be smart but he’s closed off only being carefree with you and his twin brother. he also has a lot of love for art, spray painting with his brother.

myles isn’t one to talk, again, he’s closed off and usually upholds a stoic persona, opposed to his brother who doesn’t have a problem showing how passionate and cheerful he is.

with him being the prowler, and technically being labeled as ‘spidermans rival’, ignoring that the prowler is his own being. he had a strong morality of protecting his family and you after his father had died.

to which leads him also going into life-threatening dangers.

“[name], do you have any idea how lucky you? like, i would die to be in your spot!” you rolled your eyes at that sentence, “then do it.” your snark reply made a few people in the hallway snicker.

now back to you, [name] [lastname], the robot-technology-hacking loving nerd that grew with the morales twins and them fighting over you, it’s not something that’s lucky.

that constantly one-upped eachother to gain your attention, to the point they wouldn’t HESITATE to embarrass eachother in front of you along with literally fighting who got the best present for you.

it didn’t help since you liked both of them, i mean, how couldn’t you not like them? they were literally labeled ‘most attractive boys alive’ and their personality didn’t help, why do you think you fell deeply in love?

“i got the best gift-“

“i did!”

your bestfriend, gwen stacy, sneaked her arm around you, “i obviously did.” she gave you a smug looked as you sighed in your hands with embarrassment, remembering the time you two accidentally kissed (more like pecked eachother on the lip).

you two vowed to never talk about that again but since that was two years ago, you guys are all 15 by the way, which you guys were 13 by the time she stole your first kiss.

the morales twins didn’t like that, uhh, next!

“ahora no es el momento, gwen.” you muttered, expressing massive stress from the two and the welcomed gwen, “i — uh, failed spanish.” you made a ‘that’s-the-point-‘ look.

“siempre suenas bien hablando en español.” myles commented, shooing gwen’s arm off your shoulder and throwing his arm over yours instead.

“get apagado de [nombre], myles.” miles rolled his eyes and scoffed at his twin, “at least i get an a+ in spanish.” miles gasped at the comment with offence.

“this is why you’re failing science, estúpido!”

“estoy siendo peleado por gemelos estúpidos.” you pinched the bridge of your nose before sneaking out between the twins quarrel, heading over to foam party.

did i mention that you won awards and was on the news for making a working robot suit and finding out how to time travel?

mutters and comments were heard in the coffee shop, irritating your already bad headache. ‘i hate society.’ you rubbed your temples, before ordering your drink and waited.

apparently those minutes of waiting, you got… weird, suggestive comments from grown adults. your face scrunched up every time they said something about you.

“that shirt really compliments your curves.”

you’re were just 15.

“you’ll find a person just like me.”

they were in their late 30s.

“how ‘bout instead of wasting your pretty little time in this coffee shop, you come to my place.”

you just wanted your coffee.

“can i get your number?”

stop.

“you’re really sexy.”

stop it.

they tried grabbing your hand.

“i’ll treat you better.”

stop it. they tried kissing your hand before someone clocked them in the face, “aren’t you an adult, man?” miles’ voice was heard beside your ear as he tried comforting you.

myles rubbed his knuckles with a grossed look on his face. they saw that they were harassing you as you tried to move away from them, worst thing yet, nobody tried to do anything.

they saw what was happening but didn’t help, god they really hated adults.

“acércate a ellos, y será mucho peor que un puñetazo en la cara.” they ran off, myles grabbed your order as the three of you left. it was quiet, too quiet for your looking.

“i could’ve handled that y’know—“ miles handed you a box, opening it to which showed a necklace with a charm that was your hacker logo. you could feel the myles’ eye twitched.

“remember i got [name] a car—“

“shut the hell up, man!”

[name] after the morales twins keep giving them money and gifts.

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔐𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔠𝔱

Mike schmidt x male reader

A request that I received from a friend here on tumblr: “I'm wondering if you would be fine with a possessive Mike chapter? The idea is that the reader gets hit on and then Mike goes all grumpy boyfriend who thinks 'back of he's mine'. Now I don't think the reader would start it or try to flirt back, I just think someone would come up to him out of know were, maybe at a bar”

Tags: Part 8 of this miniseries of Mike Schmidt x male reader. Age-gap (5 years) between you and Mike (reader is 20 years old). Male reader. He/him pronouns used towards the reader. Jealous Mike Schmidt. Fluff. Angst with an happy ending. Allusion to smut.

Words count: 3500

Part 1-Part 2- Part 3-Part 4-Part 5-Part 6-Part 7-Part 9

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

If you have an idea for another part of this Mike Schmidt x Male Reader series, or even a request for Mike Munroe x Male Reader from Until Dawn, please let me know <3. I love reading other people's opinions and ideas.

It had been exactly one month since you'd moved in with Mike, and tonight was a small celebration. With Abby at a sleepover at one of her friend's houses, you and Mike had the rare opportunity to spend some quality time together. Tonight, it was just about the two of you.

Mike had suggested going to a quiet bar nearby, somewhere casual yet with enough ambiance to make the night feel special. It wasn't the fanciest place in town, but that didn't matter to either of you. The dim lights, warm atmosphere, and low hum of conversation from other patrons set the perfect mood. Mike chose a small table in the corner, away from the busier parts of the bar, the kind of spot where you could focus on each other without the chaos around you.

Mike slid onto the sofa first, making sure you were close beside him as you both settled in. The sofa was indeed small, which Mike quickly pointed out. He shifted in his seat, extending his arm across the backrest behind your head, a casual but deliberate move to pull you in closer.

"Comfy?" he asked, his voice quiet and teasing as he leaned slightly toward you. His arm remained outstretched, his fingers brushing against your shoulder lightly.

“There's plenty of room on the other side of the couch. You don't need to use me as a pillow."

Mike chuckled, his eyes glinting with something softer. "I'm just trying to be comfortable. This couch is too small for both of us."

You couldn't help but laugh softly. "Sure it is, Mike."

But you didn't mind. In fact, you leaned into him, letting his arm rest more comfortably around your shoulders as the proximity between you grew.

With the excuse of the small couch, Mike's hand eventually trailed down to your side, resting lightly on your hip, holding you close without saying much.

The way he shifted his body toward you made it clear that his focus was entirely on you, the busy bar around you fading into the background.

"You look really good tonight," Mike said suddenly, his voice quiet but firm, as his eyes scanned you slowly, appreciatively. His gaze lingered just a second longer than usual, and you could feel a faint heat rising in your cheeks at the intensity of his stare.

You felt your face heat up slightly as you ducked your head, trying to play it cool.

He was dressed simply, wearing his usual dark jacket over a plain t-shirt, looking effortlessly handsome in his quiet, brooding way. His eyes were focused on the menu, studying the ridiculous drink names with a small furrow in his brow.

"Thanks. You too," you replied, trying to hide the fact that your heart had skipped a beat.

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as if to say you didn't need to return the compliment. "I'm serious," he added, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer. "It's nice seeing you like this. Relaxed"

You smiled at him, appreciating the moment. "Yeah, it feels good. It's been a while since we've had a night like this. Besides, I had to put in the effort. It's not every day I get to drag my grumpy boyfriend out for a night like this."

"Grumpy?" Mike repeated, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not like that."

"Oh, you are," you teased, poking him lightly in the ribs. "Don't pretend you're not."

Mike chuckled softly, the sound low and rough in his throat. "You're imagining things."

"Am I? You were grumbling about traffic on the way here, and I saw you glare at that couple when we walked in."

"They were blocking the door," Mike muttered defensively.

"See?" You laughed, shaking your head.

Mike rolled his eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I might be like this because I've got a troublemaker for a boyfriend."

You gasped softly, placing a hand over your heart. "Me? A troublemaker? I'm innocent!"

Mike gave you a look that clearly said he didn't believe you, and you couldn't help but laugh. "Uh-huh," he said dryly.

You grinned, leaning in against him slightly to give him a side hug.

"It's been a while since I've gone out like this," he admitted, his lips curving into that rare, small smile you loved seeing.

His expression softened as his arm around your side tightened. "We've both been busy," he admitted, though you could hear the unspoken part of the sentence: You've been patient with me.

As you browsed through the menu, something caught your eye. The bar offered a selection of unique, non-alcoholic drinks with quirky names-exactly the kind of thing that piqued your curiosity.

"Look at these," you said, nudging Mike slightly. "They've got some really cool names. 'Ocean Breeze,' 'Tropical Twilight, and...’Dragon's Breath'? Sounds interesting, right?"

Mike leans in slightly, glancing over the drink description. "Let's try some," he says with a tired but amused smile. "We could work our way through some of these. They're cheap enough and no hangover tomorrow."

You couldn't help but grin at his suggestion. It felt good to unwind like this. Without the heavy weight of your usual responsibilities, it felt like the two of you were able to just be a couple enjoying each other's company. So, you both ordered a few of the more intriguing and exciting drinks, eager to sample their flavors.

It doesn't take long before the server returns with your first round of drinks. One is a vibrant blue with smoke-like vapors rising from it. 'The Dragon's Breath’. The other is a bright orange concoction topped with a skewer of fruit.

Mike reaches for the blue one first, swirling the glass in his hand before taking a sip. His face remains impassive, as if the strange flavors don't faze him at all.

"Try it."

You take the glass from him, watching the vapors curl up around your fingers. When you take a sip, the sharp, sour taste hits you instantly, making you wince and grimace.

When he saw your expression, he let out a rare, quiet laugh, his tired eyes crinkling at the edges. "You look like you just ate a lemon," he teased, his voice deep and slightly raspy.

"It's because I think I did. Ugh... that's intense," you groaned, pushing the glass away, trying not to laugh at your own reaction.

Mike chuckles softly, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. "Not a fan?"

"Not sure how you didn't even flinch," you reply, shaking your head. You take another cautious sip, but the sourness makes you pucker your lips again. Mike laughs, the sound low and tired but full of affection.

"You get used to it," he says with a shrug, though there's a hint of playful teasing in his tone. "Want me to finish it for you?"

"Please do," you say, sliding the glass back toward him. Mike takes it without a word, downing the rest of it like it's nothing.

The next drink was the bright orange one. You took a sip, and the sweet, fruity taste is a welcome relief after the sourness of the first drink. It was much more liquid than the sour one you tried and it quickly consumed as you took a sip of it.

"Oh, this one's good," you say, offering the glass to Mike. "You've got to try it."

There was barely any left in the glass, just a few drops at the bottom.

"Come closer," Mike says, his voice dropping just a bit lower. There's a playful gleam in his eyes that makes your pulse quicken.

Curious, you lean toward him, and in one swift movement, Mike cups the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. His lips are warm against yours, and his tongue is exploring your mouth, tasting the remnants of the drink you'd just had. The kiss is slow and languid, full of that lazy confidence he always seems to carry.

When he finally pulls back, your heart is racing, and Mike has that small, satisfied smile on his face. "Tastes good," he murmurs, his eyes half-lidded as he watches your reaction.

You flush, half-embarrassed but unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. "You didn't even taste the drink," you say, lightly hitting his chest.

"I tasted enough," Mike replies, clearly pleased with himself.

You can't help but laugh, shaking your head at his antics. "You're impossible."

There's one drink next with a quiet awful color scheme that tastes faintly of mint and chocolate, reminding you of a dessert, and another that's so bitter you both cringe after the first sip. Mike offers to finish it off, just as he did with the sour one, but this time you're determined to get through it, even though it makes you shiver with each sip.

Your eyes squint immediately, lips purse together tightly, forming a thin, strained line. Your nostrils flare slightly, as if they might filter out the bitterness. You winced, eyes darting down at the glass briefly, maybe questioning all of your life choices up to this moment.

Your throat visibly constricts with each gulp. The corners of your eyes crinkle as you fights the instinct to grimace more openly.

"You're stubborn," Mike says, watching you with a faint smile.

"I'm not letting this drink win," you reply, setting the empty glass down.

Your tongue darts out briefly, almost like your trying to wipe away the bitterness.

Your boyfriend watches with a small, lazy grin. It’s a smile that dances in his eyes, both amused and impressed by the spectacle.

“It’s the same face you made when Abby gave us those cookies she made at school.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the memory. “She used salt instead of sugar, poor thing. But at least I finished it in front of her. You gagged immediately at the first bite at your own sister’s baking!”

He laughs, shrugging. “Honest reactions. Besides, she took it as a learning moment. I saved her from making the same mistake twice.”

The last small shot arrived.'Zombie Sunrise,'—‘Minty moonshot,'—'Mango Madness’. These names were wild. It sounded like they're trying a bit too hard but it was at least fun trying to figure out the ingredients.

At one point, as you took a sip from the last drink, Mike's gaze fixed on you. You set the glass down, raising an eyebrow. "What?" you asked, trying to keep your voice light.

Mike didn't answer right away. Instead, he leaned in, his hand sliding from your hip to the back of your neck, gently pulling you closer until your lips were just inches apart.

"I just like looking at you," he murmured, his voice low and rough in that way that always made your heart race.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours. The kiss started soft, tender even, but quickly deepened as Mike's other hand slid around to your waist, pulling you even closer. The small couch left no room for distance, and it seemed like that was exactly what Mike wanted. His kiss grew more intense, more insistent, as his tongue brushed against yours, exploring your mouth with a hunger that had been simmering all night.

You shifted slightly, turning your body to face him more fully as you responded to his kiss with equal intensity. His hand tangled in your hair as he tilted your head just enough to deepen the angle, his lips moving against yours with a desperate kind of passion that left you breathless.

His grip on you tightened, as though he couldn't bear to let you go.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was a little heavier, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto yours.

"You're dangerous, you know that?" you whispered, your voice breathless from the kiss.

Mike smirked, his lips brushing against yours again, this time softer, gentler. "What’s the name of the one you had? It was good."

You felt a rush of warmth spread through you at his words, and though the moment was intimate, you couldn't help but tease him back. "Yeah, well, it was probably mixed with all the other drinks we've had," you said, grinning.

Mike's hand slid off your neck, and he leaned back, his expression softening into something more content. "Maybe. You want another one of that?" he suggested quietly, a rare playful note in his voice.

You nodded, standing up and beating Mike. He grumbled something under his breath as you pushed on his shoulders to get up and ground him on the seat.

His eyes followed you as you moved through the dimly lit room. You were used to his gaze by now. The way he always seemed to keep an eye on you, not out of possessiveness but out of some deep-rooted need to know you were safe.

Leaning against the bar, you glanced over at the bartender, waiting for him to finish with the previous order. You felt someone sit beside you, closer than anyone other than Mike had the right to do. Glancing sideways, you noticed a man standing next to you just a little too close for comfort. He had a confident grin on his face, the kind that immediately set off alarm bells in your mind, his eyes sweeping over you in a way that made you uncomfortable.

"Hey," the guy said, his voice smooth and casual. "You here alone?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Uh, no. I'm with someone."

The man's grin didn't falter. If anything, it widened slightly as he leaned a little closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. "Really? I've been watching you for a while, and it didn't look like you were with anyone."

This guy must be terribly drunk. That or he confused you with some other poor person here.

You stiffened at the unwanted attention, glancing back toward Mike, who was still sitting at the table. From this distance, you could see the way his posture had changed, how his relaxed demeanor had shifted into something more rigid. His eyes were locked on you, a tension in his jaw that hadn't been there a few minutes ago.

"I am with someone," you repeated, more firmly this time, hoping the guy would get the hint. "So, if you don't mind..."

But the man didn't seem to care, leaning in a bit more, his grin turning into something smug. "Come on, I'm just trying to be friendly. What's the harm?”

You clenched your jaw, trying to figure out how to defuse the situation without making a scene. The last thing you wanted was for this random guy to start something. You soon felt a familiar presence behind you.

Mike.

He didn't say anything at first, but the way he moved into your space, his hand landing firmly on your lower back, spoke volumes. His body pressed against yours just enough to make it clear who you were with. He wasn't being aggressive -yet- but the tension in his body was unmistakable. He was on edge, and you could feel the protectiveness radiating off of him like heat.

"He's with me," Mike said, his voice low but steady. There was no mistaking the warning in his tone.

The guy blinked, clearly surprised by Mike's sudden appearance. He glanced between the two of you, taking in the way Mike's hand rested on your waist, the hard set of his jaw, the way his eyes were narrowed in a silent threat.

"Oh, hey, man. Just talking," the guy said, trying to sound casual, but there was a nervous edge to his voice now. "Didn't mean anything by it."

Mike's grip on your waist tightened slightly, his fingers pressing into your side as if to silently reassure you that he had everything under control. "He's not interested," Mike stated, his voice steady, though you could hear the restrained anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

The guy held up his hands in mock surrender, backing off with a smirk that made your skin crawl. "Alright, alright. Didn't mean to step on any toes."

With that, he slunk away into the crowd, leaving you and Mike standing at the bar. The tension in Mike's body didn't immediately fade, even after the guy disappeared from view. He stayed close to you, his hand still on your waist. His eyes followed the guy for a moment longer to make absolutely certain that he was gone.

"You okay?" Mike asked quietly, his voice softer now that the idiot was gone. He turned his attention fully to you, his gaze searching your face for any signs of discomfort.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you reassured him. "Thanks for stepping in."

Mike's hand lingered on your waist, his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles into your side. "I didn't like the way he was looking at you."

You smiled softly, placing your hand over his, feeling the tension still humming through his body. "You don't have to worry. I wasn't interested."

He let out a small sigh. "Still... I didn't like it."

It wasn't that he didn't trust you; it was that he cared so deeply, so fiercely, that the idea of anyone else trying to take you away made him uneasy.

"Let's go back to the table," you suggested gently, not wanting him to dwell on it any longer.

He nodded, guiding you back to your seat with his hand still firmly on your waist. When you sat down, he didn't let go, keeping you close to him as if he needed the physical connection to fully calm down.

The rest of the night continued quietly, though Mike's attention never strayed far from you. He wasn't his usual quiet self; instead, he seemed more present, more focused on you than usual. He kept you close, the way his gaze would occasionally flicker to the crowd around you to make sure no one else would try anything.

Later, when the bar started to clear out and you both decided it was time to head home, Mike's hand gripped yours tightly as you walked back to his house. The cool night air seemed to soothe him, though his grip on you was still firm, still reassuring in its own way.

Once you were inside the house, Mike closed the door behind you with a quiet sigh. He leaned against it for a moment. You could see the way the tension in his shoulders finally began to ease.

“Are you sure you're alright?" he asked again, his voice a little softer now that it was just the two of you. "I... I don't like seeing you uncomfortable like that."

You crossed the room to him, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. "I'm fine, Mike. Really. You don't have to worry about guys like that."

He let out a small breath, leaning into your touch as his hands found your waist again.

His gaze softened at your words, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as if to pull you even closer. "Good," he grumbled, his voice low and a little rough with emotion. "Because you're mine."

With that he kissed you, slow and deep, the kind of kiss that made your toes curl and your heart race. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a possessive need that made your skin tingle.

You could feel the tension between you both shift into something else, something more intimate. Mike's grip on you tightened, his body pressing against yours as he guided you toward the bedroom.

You chuckled softly against his lips, but Mike didn't let up, his hands sliding to your waist as he started guiding you toward the bedroom. "Mike," you whispered, still smiling, but he only kissed you harder, his lips chasing yours because he couldn't get enough.

The two of you stumbled into the bedroom, your back hitting the wall as Mike's hands roamed your body, his lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw, then to your neck. He was being uncharacteristically bold tonight.

You tilted your head back, letting him have his way, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed you like a man starved.

You were his and nothing was ever going to change that.

Note: If you liked this story please leave a comment, I love reading them <3.

[wonustars]

𝘚𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘰𝘭 ’𝘴 𝘓𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 (𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘳)

“𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳��𝘴. 𝘪’𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶” - 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘦’𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘩

story inspirtation came from this poll pairing: c.sc x reader word count: estimated ~10k+ (this teaser: 983 words)

genre: friends to friends with benefits to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut (mdni)

summary: You and Seungcheol have been friends ever since you were kids. Growing up as neighbours, experiencing all the horrific adolescent moments in high school, and now going to the same University together. Even though you’ve denied it many times to your friends, part of you has always had feelings for him, not that you would ever say it out loud. He is the one person you can trust with anything and everything. So what happens when he propositions the idea of becoming friends with benefits? (the plot maybe change a little while i’m continuing to write but the overall theme will stay the same &lt;;3)

tags: bestfriend!seungcheol, nonidol!au, university!au, female!reader, mutual pining, slow burn so painful you'll feel it in your toes, they are one year apart, SLIGHT like extremely miniscule wonwoo x reader (for the angst mwahahaha), seungcheol is a jealous jealous man, they're both idiots, jeonghan is a menace as always, seungcheol has a lot of pride, so does the reader, (i'll add more once its finished lol)

warnings/smut: this will be added on in the full post.

taglist: open! send an ask, dm, or comment to be tagged for when i post the full fic.

notes: long time no post everyone.... a LOT of people voted for an s.coups story on my poll so i'm here to deliver mwahahahaha...ALSO im so proud of the banner i made like udek i love how it looks hehhehe, i spent a good hour or so on it T-T ! i really have an urge to write a longer story, so idk when i'll be finished because it may take me a while to finish so sorry in advance. I just started writing and I was playing Mikee's Letters by Just Hush during it and so i thought id incorperate the song into the story, but barely lol (its a tagalog song so sorry if the translation is a lil rough my tagalog is not the most accurate). this story is SOOOOOO self indulgnet that it should be criminal lol BUT im really excited to write this and im really excited to share it with everyone,,, but first i actually got to finish it hehe. talk to u soon, mwah <3!

As long as you could remember you and Seungcheol have been attached to the hip. Even though he was a year older than you, you couldn’t remember the last time you spent a day without him. You’ve been in each others lives ever since then, starting all the way from the young, bright age of 5, when you and your family moved into the small, humble house across his. Although your parents weren’t very well off, Cheol was. It was an odd thing that you two were neighbours because his house was much more grand, and nicer kept than yours. This didn’t really bother you growing up though, he always made you feel like an equal.  

Seungcheol has been with you through it all, the petty fights in middle school to the pains of adolescence in high school. He’s seen you at your worst, like the time you tripped and fell trying to impress a cute guy at school, which resulted in a nose bleed. You were so embarrassed but at the end of the day Cheol was there to help you clean your bloody nose and pick you back up. A true night and shining armor, which was practically his brand. He was the one to patch up your heart, breakup after breakup. Always your shoulder to lean on when you’re feeling down, and especially when you’re happy. 

A man and bestfriend like Choi Seungcheol didn’t come around very often, and you took notice of that since you were young. You cherish every moment you have and will have with him. He is a true gentleman with a heart of gold. He’s handsome, smart, rich and caring. Every single box on your list is ticked off when it comes to him. Yet, you know that no matter how hard you love him, you will only ever be his bestfriend. The girl he sees as practically his younger sister. The bittersweet feeling of being so close to him tugs your heart till its torn. It took you a long time to accept that all you’ll ever be is his bestfriend, and even now, you’re still trying to accept this fact. 

...

Seungcheol has always seen himself as your best friend. The man that will be there for you when you have no one else to turn to. He has never seen you as more than his best friend, his y/n. He is a man who never second-guesses himself, always keeping a strong-willed sense of mind. Every time one of his friends asked him if he had feelings for you, he would simply answer no; and that you were like a younger sister to him. 

That first year was lonely for him, he didn’t really know anyone and all his classes kept him away from socializing. The only thing that seemed to have stayed constant was you. You face-timed him at least once a week before he went to bed, never forgetting to remind him how much you missed him, and how much you cared for him. In the simplest words, you were his rock for that first year. 

Seungcheol was never warned about how lonely and jarring your first year could be. The change in place, people, and most importantly the change in the fact that you weren’t there experiencing it beside him. He was never one to believe clichè sayings, but he finally understood what the saying “distance makes the heart grow fonder” really felt like. He had gotten so overwhelmed from the loneliness he even began to write you letters, ones he would never actually send out, as cheesy as it sounds. But knowing that he was addressing them to you brought him some type of solace in that first year.

 A year later you came to study at the same university, and he was elated, to say the least. Finally, he had thought to himself. The one person he hadn’t been able to see, smell, or touch for a year was finally going to be in his proximity. 

Unlike Cheol, you were only able to go to this school through bursaries and scholarships, your parents simply just couldn’t afford to send you to school in a different city otherwise. It reminded you how lucky Seungcheol was to receive support from his parents, getting and going to school was nothing he had to ever think twice about. You knew you could’ve stayed with your family, and gone to school closer to your house, but with Cheol away, it just wasn’t the same. Nothing had felt the same since he left. But this didn’t matter to you the moment you felt his arms wrap around you again. 

You stood there in the airport all alone, eyes searching for a head of freshly dyed blond hair. The moment you heard his voice call your name, you knew you were finally home. 

“Y/n!” An excited, deep voice calls out for you. 

You whip your head around to see him. The man you hadn’t seen in so long, the man you were so desperately in love with. Your best friend. 

“Cheol!” A squeal escapes your lips, you run to him. He pulls you into a tight hug, wrapping his large hands around your smaller frame. Swinging you around like crazy, a laugh bubbles up from your throat. 

“I’ve missed you so much y/n.” Cheol exasperates as he hugs you tighter, leaving a kiss on the top of your head.

“I’ve missed you too Cheol…” You whisper into his chest, breathing in his expensive cologne, not caring that you are in public; staying there to embrace him for a weirdly long period of time. “Never leave for that long again.” 

[byierficrecs]

❝ tried and true blue ❞ author: @parkitaco

link: archiveofourown.org/works/46712890

personal blog || submit a story || support me on ko-fi 🍂

[fox-bee926]

My Tailor

Harvey Specter x fem!reader

Masterlist A/N: holy shit dudes I finally did it. It was hard and full of procrastination. But I did it. I might make another one. I might not. At this point consistency is a figment of my imagination. (not really edited don't come for me) Anyway! Enjoy! TW: suggestive talking, but only a bit of a joke. Nothing really scandalous or anything of the sort; Harvey being jealous Word Count: ~997 (nothing real crazy dw)

(Third POV)

Mike walks up to the door of Ms. Tailor’s Thread and Needle, business card in hand. The sign says closed, and the shop seems dark, but there is obvious movement. He is just about to knock on the door when it swings open. The woman seems very surprised when he stumbles back, rubbing his hands on his pants.

“Hello... Do you work here?”

“No, I sneak in just to eat my lunch.” 

Mike looks panicked for a moment, then composes himself. “By the sarcasm, I assume you do. I was sent by Harvey Specter. He has made his opinion on my suits very clear.”

“Of course he did, they’re terrible," Mike looks down, confused, thinking they were top of the line. "I’m Ms. Taylor, come on in.” Ms. Taylor opens the door wider, but keeps the sign flipped to closed. She smoothed out the wrinkles of her dress pants. “The other girls went out for lunch but Jessie told me I had a priority one booking. I’m going to assume that’s you.”

Mike walks into the shop and looks around. He stops in his tracks with a deer in headlights look. “Wait a minute, Harvey told me not to talk to you.”

“Did he now? Oh, don’t worry about him, honey. I promise he won’t mind.” The door shuts closed and Ms. Taylor turns the rest of the floor lights on as she grabs a small box of tools.

Mike goes to stand on the raised platform encircled by lights. “Are you sure? He seemed pretty... clear. Just as clear as his hating of my suits.”

“Positive, Mike. Now, let’s see what we’re working with. Oh, and please, call me Y/N.”

___

(Second POV)

You unlock the door to your shared apartment with Harvey. Mike had talked to you quite a bit about his time at Pearson Hardman. Especially how much of an ass Harvey had been to him. You had thought about talking Harvey into easing up on him, but in the end you decided against it. Harvey was bound to be upset hearing you two even talked at all. 

“He just said not to talk to you. No explanation or anything. I was worried that you had torn his suit or something.”

“I tore the buttons off one time, but that was completely non-work related. I’ll talk to him when I get home. For now, just say Jessie tailored you. Have a good day, hun, and good luck.”

You couldn’t lie, you were a bit upset that Harvey told his own associate not to let you tailor him. You had tailored every person even remotely close to Harvey, even Louis. However, Harvey’s jealousy was understandable. After Louis had not so subtly flirted with you, and not so subtly got his pockets’ seams ripped, Harvey was weary of sending his male coworkers to you for a suit.

The sound of the front door closing and your bag hitting the floor caught the attention of said Harvey Specter from the kitchen. As soon as your eyes met, he knew he was in trouble. Harvey waited patiently, wine glass in hand, in silence as you took your coat and heels off. Finally, you spoke.

“You told your own associate not to be tailored by me?”

“That little snitch. I knew something was up when he said Jessie had tailored him. You would never send Jessie to tailor a priority one.”

“That’s right. I would never send Jessie to tailor a priority one. I would never send anyone but myself to tailor a priority one, and you knew that. Yet, you were going to have Mike get a below-standard tailor job because you couldn’t handle your girlfriend hemming the pants of your coworker.” The more you talked, the more you realized just how angry you were. 

You and Harvey had had this conversation several times. You always said how you could handle yourself when male clients tried getting frisky (they always tried,) and Harvey said that he hates you getting so close to his male coworkers.

“This is- This is ridiculous! I shouldn’t have to ask you not to tailor my coworkers! I don’t like your hands being so close to their... inseam.” He made a confused face for a moment before going back to his rant. “How should I feel knowing that every man you tailor in New York feels your hands on him? How should that make me feel other than angry and very, very shitty?” His hands gripped the counter in frustration, and you copied the motion.

“You should feel angry. But you should also trust that the only thing I’m doing is poking a needle very close to their ‘inseam,’ as you put. I promise you, I can handle myself.” You reached across the counter and wrapped your hand around his.

Harvey hung his head, knowing he wouldn’t be getting anywhere. Also knowing, deep down, that he was overreacting a bit. “Fine. I’m sorry. But I’m still not going to recommend anyone unless absolutely necessary.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You walked around to his side of the counter and wrapped your arms around him, leaning your head against his back. He smelled of ballpoint pen and whatever cologne he decided to wear that day. You could never tell them apart, but you’d never tell him that.

After a minute or two he turned around in your arms and gently placed his hands on your face. 

“What would I do without you?”

“Not have the best tailored suits in New York City, at the very least.” You both chuckled and he placed a small kiss on your lips. “To be fair, I wouldn’t have the first clue how I would survive without you.”

“Well, for one you wouldn’t have the best kisser in New York City.” You let out a loud giggle and a few murmurs “oh really?” as he attacked your face with kisses of various weight. Finally, he left a passionate kiss on your lips, right where he started. He brushed a lock of hair out from in front of your face.

“What is a man without his best suit, anyways?”

[italiansteebie]

I could teach you waking up in my t-shirt.

also on ao3 (preferred format) 2.3k Words

Steve Harrington has a really cool T Shirt. 

It was the exact type of shirt no one would expect him to wear, it was soft, and worn, and the design looked hand made, and sometimes there was a long, dark, curly, strand of hair stuck to it, like the person who made it left a piece of themselves there. 

Dustin didn’t know where he got it, or how someone like Steve came across a shirt like this, but any time he asked about it, the teen got… Defensive. 

Once Dustin asked Steve if he could borrow it, and Steve freaked out, like properly freaked out. So he stopped asking about it. It was a little strange how protective Steve was over the shirt, and how he never seemed to wear it to school, or outside of his house. He had to wear it somewhere though, because more often than not that long, dark, hair would be present, and Dustin knows for a fact Steve washes the shirt. 

So where did he get it?

What exactly does “HellFire Club” mean? 

Is it a band?

And Dustin asked all these questions only to be met with a nervous silence from Steve, which was unlike him. So, he stopped asking. There were more pressing matters than Steve’s shirt, like demodogs and Russians under the mall, and the fact that the girl Steve works with somehow knows him better than Dustin, all of a sudden. 

He’s not jealous, though. Well. Not that jealous. But why does she get to know where the shirt came from, and not him? It’s Steve’s biggest mystery, and it was well kept. At least, well kept from him. He remembers the day clearly. He walked into Scoops Ahoy with Steve who already happened to be in his work uniform. He usually changes at work to avoid walking through the mall looking like a Naval monstrosity. He watches the way Robin Buckley smirks, like she’s let in on a secret, “No Hellfire shirt today, Steve-o? Trouble in paradise?” she asks slyly. “Haha. Shut up, Robin.” Steve replies through his teeth, strained. Dustin whips his head around to face Steve. “You talked to her about the shirt? C’mon, Steve! We’re friends!” Dustin whined. Steve pushed his head away, “You’re like, 5, this is grown up talk. Now get back to your mom, she’s gonna freak if you’re late for camp check in.” Dustin sighed, “Whatever. See you later, Steve!” They hugged briefly and Dustin left, the shirt and what Robin Buckley said about it, still rocking around in his brain. 

But then Dustin got back from camp, with a big ass ham radio, a new, very real, girlfriend, and a Russian interception. And suddenly, the t-shirt didn’t seem all that important. In fact, Dustin forgot about it until one fateful day. 

The first day of highschool. 

There he was in all his glory. 

Eddie Munson, and guess what he was wearing.

The shirt.

Steve’s shirt.

So Dustin made it a point to seek the guy out, and in his mission he found that HellFire was not a band, but a DnD club. And that only made him more confused, did Steve secretly belong to a party? And that’s why he never played with them? No way. The betrayal. 

So, Dustin infiltrates the group. 

Along with Mike, and Lucas. 

Because it’s a DnD group, and well… Will’s gone, and they still wanted to play. 

And they become a part of the group. 

It’s fun, and the way Steve’s eyes almost bug out of his head when he sees all of them wearing his shirt is absolutely hilarious. 

Dustin keeps the whole “shirt debacle” to himself. He knows that Steve was in HellFire and didn’t tell any of them. He decided to let him keep his dignity, and put the whole mystery behind him. The only strange thing was, that whenever he brought up Steve during their sessions, the rest of Hellfire got… Weird. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant would smile slyly in Eddie’s direction and Eddie would blush. Did they have some type of falling out? Eddie never seemed to want to talk about Steve, and Steve never seemed to want to talk about Eddie OR HellFire. Why were they pretending not to know each other? It was weird. 

Steve would pick them up from sessions, he and Eddie would share a short wave back and forth, and that was the end of it. It was still weird that Eddie’s hair seemed to get tangled in Steve’s shirt, even though Steve didn’t go to the meetings anymore. In fact, now that Dustin joined, Steve didn’t seem to wear the shirt at all anymore. 

So another mystery was upon him.

But then a cheerleader died, and no one could find Eddie. 

And all of a sudden his face was plastered on the news, his name becoming synonymous with ‘Satan’ and ‘murderer’ which Dustin thought was ridiculous. Eddie Munson was not a violent person, not by any means, in real life. As a dungeon master he could be pretty merciless, but. That was just a game. 

And the newest mystery revolving around Steve and Eddie was put on the back burner.

They found Eddie a few hours later in Reefer Rick’s boathouse, a suggestion made by Steve, the stress too high to consider how he could even know that. But then there was a bottle pressed to his jugular and sorry Eddie, but he needs Steve alive for this. So he pleads until Eddie drops the bottle, Steve’s eyes reading more concern than fear, but Dustin would think about that later. He watches Eddie as Eddie watches Steve be comforted by Robin, wiping the stray tears away, looking back at Eddie with a look that Dustin thought Steve could only give to girls… 

Unfortunately, as entertaining as it was, Steve’s love life was not the hot topic of the moment. So he moved on, and the events unfolded in succession of disaster, like they usually do when the upside down rears its ugly head. And all of a sudden Steve is telling them not to be cute, and Eddie says ‘Make him Pay,’ in a tone that anyone could hear, means something different. 

—

Nancy delivered the final blow, and Vecna was down. But there was a pit in Steve’s stomach. Something was very, very wrong. So he ran. Nancy and Robin were hot on his heels, shouting for him to slow down but he couldn’t. The scene came into view and Steve couldn’t breathe. Dustin was sobbing over Eddie’s prone body, bats from hell surrounding them. 

Steve could only run faster, he reached them, dropping to his knees. 

“Eds,”

“Stevie,”

“Don’t do that Munson. We’re getting you out of here. I swear to god. If you die, I’m going to fucking kill you.”  

And through his grief clouded brain, Dustin knew Steve meant what he said. 

From that moment on it was a blur, Nancy and Robin helped Dustin limp towards the gate, only looking back to see Steve lifting Eddie from the ground in what looked like sheer will. They’re going to make it out. He can feel it. He’s got to figure out the mystery. And maybe that was a stupid thought, but he was only 15, and that was what gave him hope. 

The gate that split in the Munson trailer was beginning to close, and it was a fight to get through, Dustin didn’t get to see the end though, because when his broken leg was met with the force of hitting the right side up, he passed out. 

—

He woke to a steady beep and a pressure holding his leg in place. 

He cracked open his eyes to see his mom sitting in the plastic hospital chair next to his bed, reading a book. 

“Mom?”

“Dusty,” She gasped, pressing the Call button, and reaching to grab his hand.

“E- Eddie?”

“I- I’m sorry baby.” And for a second, Dustin’s heart dropped, “He’s still in surgery. That earthquake really did a number on him. The doctors think he’s going to pull through.” Dustin breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, and Steve was admitted for his wounds. He’s in the next room over. They’re going to put Eddie with him as soon as he’s in the clear, Steve’s request.” With the news that his friends were okay, and the soothing motion of his mom brushing her hand through his hair, he fell asleep. The next time he woke up it was by a doctor, getting him ready to be discharged with strict orders of rest.

He ended up moving from his room, to making a home in Steve’s room. 

It was weird to see Steve in the hospital, unmoving, hair flat against his forehead. It almost brought tears to his eyes to think about his brother like that, the only thing keeping him together was that Steve was here, awake, and the heart monitor’s beeps were steady and reassuring. 

—-

It had been a few days, Steve’s wounds were healing nicely, and he was allowed to go home. 

Eddie had been cleared from the ICU and moved to a long stay ward. 

He was still asleep, but the doctors said that was his body’s way of healing. That’s what they said about Max too. They were confident both of them would eventually wake up.

Dustin had expected to see Steve around the hospital after his discharge, checking Max, and keeping up with his own check ups. What he didn’t expect to see was him and Eddie’s uncle Wayne in what looked like a heartfelt embrace. He didn’t really mean to eavesdrop, but he also didn’t move away. “He’s gonna wake up, son. I know he’s strong. And I know you’ll be right there waitin’ for him.” Wayne's gruff voice floated through the quiet hospital. Dustin didn’t realize Steve knew Wayne like that but, he guesses it’s from Steve’s secret HellFire days. 

He shook off the initial confusion and went to join the two men in Eddie’s room. They would sit and talk. Talk about Eddie, Steve’s interactions with weird customers, how Wayne was settling in to the new government provided house. Anything. Just to fill the room with sound, to let Eddie know they were there when he was ready to wake up. 

Dustin knew it was going to be an emotional day when Eddie woke up for real. 

He’d been opening his eyes, and saying one word responses for about a week now, and the doctors predicted he’d be starting to wake up for longer periods of time real soon. 

“S-tv?”

“Eddie! You’re awake, do you feel okay, can I get you any-”

“Slow down, boy.” Wayne said, resting a hand on his shoulder, Dustin pausing as he does. “Any pain, Ed?” 

“No,”

“Good. They got you on the good stuff.” Wayne chuckled. 

“Steve?” Eddie mumbled, and Dustin was confused for a moment, but he thought that Eddie was probably concerned about the guy that carried him out of hell. Dustin watched as Wayne smiled, “Your boys gone to get some coffee and chips for the kid and I. He’ll be back real soon.” His boy? Interesting… 

Dustin was close to figuring out the mystery, there was just one thing he was missing. He knew these things took time, but this was taking forever, when was he going to figure this out? And right as he finished that thought, Steve walked in. He handed Wayne his coffee and tossed Dustin his chips, floating around the room on autopilot. Wayne and Eddie both watched with familiar fondness, as though they had seen this before. Steve finally let his eyes drift over to Eddie, who was wide awake now, smiling in his direction. “Eddie.” He breathed, eyes wide. 

“Hey, Stevie.”

“Oh, you bastard! I told you not to be cute! I told you,” Steve’s voice cracked, 

“C’mere.”

Steve slumped over to Eddie, basically crawling into the bed with him, and cried against his chest. Dustin felt as though the solution to the mystery was about to be revealed, were they related? No way. Best friends? Secret Best friends? Perhaps… 

“I told you,”

“I know you did, baby.”

Wait. Baby?

And y’know, he shouldn’t have been so surprised at what happened next. 

“I hate you,”

“No you don’t.”

“You’re right,” Steve sighed, leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips, savoring the sweet reunion. That is until Dustin breathed in sharply, trying to be quiet so as not to disturb them, but instead choked on a piece of potato chip. He coughed and hacked, and Wayne clapped him on the back and handed him some water, and there was snot and tears running down his face. “Sorry,” He said hoarsely, still partially choking. “I didn't mean to ruin the moment I just-” Steve cut him off with a smile, “You finally put two and two together, huh? Guess I owe you five bucks, Eds.” Dustin watched them carefully. “What?” He asked, only slightly embarrassed at the implication that the two had bet on him. 

“Me and Stevie bet that it’d take us kissing in front of you for you to figure out we’re together. He thought you’d figure it out before that.” Eddie said, smiling through his words. 

“I thought you were smarter than that, Dust. You really let me down,” Steve teased. 

Eddie sighed, “When you saw me in the shirt I thought I had lost for sure, but you never really said anything about it.”

“I thought that Steve might’ve been secretly a part of HellFire…” He trailed, looking down sheepishly. 

Wayne barked out a laugh, “It’s okay, kid. I was bettin’ that you’d figure it out at their weddin.’”

And Dustin gasped at that. “Mr. Uncle Wayne, I'm hurt,” He said dramatically, a hand clutching at his chest. Wayne sighed, “Boy, you are just about as bad as Eddie.”

And both Steve and Wayne shared a good, long laugh when Eddie and Dustin let out simultaneous “Hey!”s. Dustin shook his head, but let a smile rest on his face. This was a better outcome than he could’ve hoped for. 

And if he’d heard Steve and Eddie’s “I love you’s” whispered back and forth as they all settled in for sleep, well. 

He’d just keep that to himself. 

[jubiilee13]

I am begging for jealous Mike either angsty or fluff

But just imagine him pouting because we are focused on Abby and he wants our attention

But angst hes suddenly back to when the house was hollow and his parents barely uttered a word to him

YEA YEA YEA YEA NOW WERE TALKING OMG

this literally made me emotional writing it my poor pookie bear hes so wifey he doesnt deserve that

this is not proof read so it may be a bit ass so sorry

love you anon 😍

—

It was summer break for Abby, and by this point you and Mike had been dating for a few months.

Mike was… clingy to say the very least.

Not that you minded of course, you thought it was quite cute when he clung to your side at every oppurtunity.

It did interfere at times however...

Now was one of those times.

You sat beside abby at her desk, listening carefully as she explained each little bit of her drawing which was currently in progress.

A gentle smile formed on your lips, and you watched her carefully, your hand combing through her hair as she works.

She continued her rambles, and you cant help but chuckle at her eagerness.

A knock on abbys door tears you from your thoughts, yet abby doesn't flinch, continuing her work as you gently pat her back, telling her you'll be back in a moment.

When you open the door, you meet mikes tired gaze, and you frown a bit, stepping out and closing the door behind you. (to ensure abby's masterpiece making isnt disturbed)

"You ok my darling?" your voice asks, concern evident in your tone.

Mike nods, but it is hesitant, and he immediately begins to ramble nervously "it-its stupid nevermind" he whispers, sounding almost embarrassed as he turns on his heel to leave.

Your gentle hand reaches out to grab his own, eyebrows furrowing with concern.

"Its not stupid, talk to me mike, im here to listen" You say, your grasp on his arm gentle, yet enough to cause him to break.

He lets out a quiet sob, and you dont hesitate to pull him into your arms.

"Hey hey hey im here mike, im here, talk to me, ive got you" you say gently, one hand combing through his hair as he cries into your shoulder.

You let him cry, leading him to the living room couch where he rests his head on your shoulder as he sniffles.

"You wanna talk about it" you mumble, still caressing his hair

He nods softly, taking a few deep breaths to compose himself before he begins to speak.

"I-i- i wasnt g-given much attention as a kid... after garret a-after all my... my mom and d-dad were too wrapped u-up in their grief to... to care... there were nights w-when i had to cook my o-own dinner... i-i i didnt even know how... but burnt food was b-better than starving. even before the w-whole garret thing, he was t-their golden child" he says, taking in another shaky breath as he continues.

"Ever... ever since i started dating y-you... i felt... i felt loved... cared for... but s-sometimes i get... scared that... one day you'll just... stop caring. I-i mean you love abby s-so much- and i d-do too dont get m-me wrong... its s-stupid i know but s-some days i get scared abby w-will be just like garret... and you'll leave me like they did" he whispers, a bit embarassed by his jealousy of his younger sister.

Your face softens, and you pull away to cup his face with your gentle hands.

"Your problems are not stupid, and i love you so much mike, more than i think words can even portray, i will never, and i mean NEVER stop caring about you, you are my sun, moon, and stars, you know that?" you say gently, a smile on your face as you wipe any stray tears that escape his beautiful eyes.

"Im sorry it seems like ive been neglecting you for abby, that girl is just the sweetest and shes like a daughter to me, but never will i ever stop caring for you over her" you say eyes never leaving his own

he sniffles again, and another wave of tears takes over him as he engulfs you in his arms now, body shaking as you comfort him.

The two of you would be ok

It takes time to heal, but deep down mike knew that he had found a keeper, and he wouldnt want to heal with anyone else but you

[sadesluvr]

hello, sweetheart! 💕

I'd love to request you to write smut about Mike Schmidt and f!reader who is a really jealous/possessive type of girlfriend... and once again, when she was jealous of Mike, she decided to punish him harshly for playing with her jealousy :3

have a good day, stay safe! 🩷

A/N: Thank you for Mike ask anon!! Reader is kinda mean in this, but there’s no fun in being nice all the time. I had fun writing this, enjoy! There’s no penetrative sex, but 18+ only.

You loved your boyfriend Mike. He was gentle, patient and hardworking…But he was completely clueless. Sometimes to the point that it infuriated you.

You, Mike and Abby had gone to the mall, looking for some new clothes for the younger girl. Whilst you usually stayed close to them, you had found yourself wandering off to the women’s department across the shop floor, leaving the siblings by themselves. Typically you kept a close eye on them, should it be if they got into a little argument or Mike was a few dollars short, but you had found a lingerie set and a pair of jeans that you simply just had to try on.

When you emerged from the dressing room with the items draped over your arm, you realised that you couldn’t see them in the store anymore. It certainly didn’t help that they were both short, and you found yourself peering and squinting through the mannequins and rows of clothes. Sure enough, once you rounded a display you found them - well, Mike at least, talking to some other girl. 

Fair enough, you thought; but you found yourself making your way over to them regardless, obscuring your body as you buried your head amongst the piles of clothes.

“...She’s going to look so cute in that sweater,” you heard a sickly sweet voice say. You could see that her posture was askew; her head cocked to expose her neck, and her hands fiddling with something below her as she swung her legs. The stupid bitch probably thought she was in a rom-com. “I bet you’re just a great dad!”

Mike chuckled.

“She’s my sister…”

“Oh!” the girl squealed, and you wanted to vomit. Not on your behalf, but on hers. You were rather embarrassed for her. “That’s so sweet of you! My brother never wants anything to do with me…I wish they were all like you,”

“T-Thanks,” Mike said, and you noticed that he was looking around, probably wishing that Abby would come out or that you would find them.

“Do you want to hang out later? There’s a bakery not far from here that I think your sister would love,”

“Oh, what’s the name?” Mike perked up, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “I can swing by there some time –”

“-- I get a loyalty discount,” the girl persisted. “C’mon, my treat!”

You’d heard enough. Holding your head high, you sauntered over to the pair, immediately wrapping your hands around Mike’s neck and planting a kiss on his cheeks, not once breaking eye contact with the girl in front of you.

“Hey babe,” you sang, plastering on a fake smile. “Who’s your friend?”

“She’s not my friend..” Mike said bluntly, and you smirked at the girl’s pained reaction. “Just a stranger…”

“Oh, is she bothering you?” you sighed. “I didn’t know they let buskers into the mall…”

“I’m sorry,” the girl scoffed, her brows furrowed in disgust. “Who is this?”

“Yeah, Mike?” you grinned. “Who am I?”

“My girlfriend,” he said. “Sorry, I’m taken,” he shrugged, pursing his lips as he watched the girl deflate. She rolled her eyes and fixed her clothes.

“Whatever,” she said. “Come find me when you want to get away from crazy,” she spat, eyeing you pointedly. You shrugged and rolled your eyes, unbothered by the girl's insult as you watched her gather her basket and leave, but not before calling out to her.

“Hey, can you put these back on the way out?” you said, brushing past her to throw the jeans into her basket. “I’ve decided I don’t need these anymore. I was going to wear them for our date tomorrow, but I think the lingerie is going to be enough. We;re never able to make it out of the house anyway..” you said matter of factly, pursing your lips as you forced a strained smile. You’d come to master the art of nice-nasty.

You strolled back to Mike triumphantly, and he flashed you a crooked smile. Sighing, your eyes softened when you met his own brown ones, and you absentmindedly rubbed his beard as he stared at you, still smiling. It was this fiery, borderline possessive attitude that had made him fall for you initially; given the fact that when you’d met him you’d been giving their Aunt Jane a mouthful.

You placed a gentle, but greedy kiss on the corner of his mouth before whispering in his ear.

“Bedroom. Nine o’clock.”

/

“You’ve been bad, Mike,” you lulled. “I can’t stop you from being around other girls, but you know I hate it when you don’t put up your boundaries…”

Mike nodded, his breaths laboured as he watched you from the bed. He was lying on his back, shirt off and dressed in his sleeping shorts as you slipped off your robe to reveal the lingerie you’d bought earlier.

“It’s not your fault,” you purred, running your fingers up his thighs. “You’re just too kind,”

Bending down to place a sloppy kiss on his lips, your other hand rubbed his chest, making their way down to his clothed cock. You could feel it flat against his stomach, semi-hard and desperate for release. It was such a shame that you weren’t going to give it to him.

Pulling down the material you weren’t surprised to see the organ spring up, clean cut, pink and twitching, just begging for you to touch him. Mike was average sized, perhaps a little smaller, but he’d always known how to pleasure you, (it did take a bit of teaching) just like you were to him. You rubbed your hands in a bit of baby oil, making sure your digits were completely coated before you took him in your hands. 

Mike let out a groan as you began to jerk him off, hands expertly gliding up and down his cock with a firm grip. He nestled his head in the crook of your neck, lazily kissing your collarbone as he focused on the pleasurable sensation, pink lips between his teeth.

With your spare hand you grabbed his cheeks, staring him directly in the eye as you spoke.

“You don’t get to touch me,” you snapped, kissing his lips. “You don’t deserve it,”

“Y-Yes…” he groaned, nodding his head. You hummed in amusement before you resumed your skilful motions, smirking at the way he writhed and whimpered underneath you. His cock trembled as you squeezed his tip between your index finger and thumb, precum coating your skin, which you licked off with ease.

The sweat on Mike’s forehead increased as your pace quickened, fringe clinging to his skin and making pretty patterns. It pained him that he couldn’t touch you, much more give you any semblance of pleasure. He supposed that this was his karma for not stating to the girl in the 

department store that he was taken. Oh well, he thought. Sometimes negative situations had positive outcomes.

He expected you to torture him, but he didn’t expect you to pull out a vibrator. He revelled in your cunning smile as he watched you get off on the mere sound of the object turning on, much more when you placed the nub on his cock. His dick slid out of your hands to lie on his stomach once again, gyrating under the pressure of the machine as you massaged the tool up and down on the ridges of his member. You kissed him, and Mike was fully overstimulated now, hands clutching the sheets as he longed for his release. He knew that you knew that by the way he was pulsating, toes curling and breaths shortening, that he was close.

“I hope it hurts, baby,” you grinned, turning up the settings of the machine. “This is how you make me feel every time you give those sluts the time of day. You need to learn your lesson…”

[eilissxx]

hello everyone, today I will tell you how I would develop Mileven's relationship if I were a scenarist and they were the main couple of the series 🥰🥰

(yes, including that Will is in love with Mike)

Ok, let's imagine that Mike is a really VERY good friend who decided to go looking for Will at night in the dark forest after will goes missing, where he finds El. Let's make Lucas and Dustin the antagonists of their love story - they will not trust El and literally force her to look for Will, while Mike will see that El is very exhausted and tired of using her powers. I would insert many other scenes with Mileven, for example where Mike would read to her or teach her how to play nintendo or dnd. They would talk a lot more and El would tell him about Papa and the lab. When the guys find Will's "corpse", Lucas and Dustin will be the ones yelling at El, and Mike will protect her and go home with her, where there will be a scene of them hugging each other calmingly. All the other actions in the series will remain almost the same, except that Mileven won't kiss.

in the second season, Mike would assure everyone that El is alive, although absolutely everyone else thinks that this is not so. He would continue to call her on the radio and starts looking for a lot of information and stories about the lab and Brenner, accidentally comes across information about Terry (like Hopper in the first season) and learns, for example, some rumor that a girl who can move objects was seen near Terry's house. Mike goes there, but arrives too late and goes to Pennsylvania, since Terry's sister said that El would be there. Mileven meet completely by chance after El escapes from 008, and they have a very emotional reunion. They go home together, where they meet the others. Afterwards, they go to the snow ball, but, again, do not kiss.

in the third season, Mike will be the one helping El learn new things in the world - he will run away from Hopper with her, drag her to shops and cinema. They will go through the school curriculum, and others will make fun of them like "you are so in love" (a cliche, but where would we be without it?), Mike will make El friends with Max. In this case, I wrote the scene of the Bylers' argument somewhere in the first episode - Will will simply be jealous, and then he will hear a Russian code with Dustin and go with Steve's team, Robin, etc. to the Russian base. Mileven would have a conversation in which Mike would explain to El what falling in love is, he would already understand that he loves El, but does not want to pressure her, because he knows what she has been through. Again, we insert a bunch of scenes with Mileven and some small quarrel (for example, Mike will forbid El to use her powers, since he will be very worried about her), and in the end they have a super cute reconciliation and hugs, before Byers-Hopper family leaves for California. Mike and Will are talking too and Will starts to let him go.

In the fourth Mike gets Vecha'd. Not right away. First Mike comes to California for vacation, they spend their day with Will and El well for everyone, and when El is humiliated by Angela, Mileven has a conversation, the main reason for which is that El did not tell Mike that she was bullied at school (she did not tell about it because she did not want to be uncool for him, and Mike was upset that El did not fully trust him). Then El is taken to the lab and the others go after her, but!!! we change Argyle to a nice kind good handsome guy Will's age, who came with a pizza delivery, let's call him Stan (because the WillArgyle couple sounds scary). Between the whole trip, we are shown a conversation between Mike and Will, where Will admits that he had feelings for him, and Mike does not reciprocate, but everything remains the same between them. There will also be a bunch of scenes of Will and Stan with heartfelt conversations and support. All this time, Mike will not notice the signs of Vecna's presence and will simply think that he is imagining things. The four of them get to Nina's project much earlier, Mike meets Brenner and Owens and argues with them because of El. Mileven make peace and talk a lot together, Mike supports her. Later, they learn that Max is in danger and El goes against all odds to fight Vecna, but everyone notices that "something is going wrong" - suddenly Vecna ​​takes Mike at gunpoint, El does not have time to save him and Mike ends up in a coma.

I can't really say anything about Mileven in season 5, it just hasn't come out yet, but I'm sure Mike would have been an incredibly important character and would have had a deep connection with El that would have helped them win. The whole slowburn thing would have ended with them kissing in season 5, and Will would have accepted himself, completely let go of Mike in season 4 and started dating Stan (yeah, no van scene).

In conclusion, i can only say that this is an insanely easy trope to write, which even the most inexperienced writers in the world can come up with. However, the scriptwriters went the other way, and don't even tell me that they simply didn't think of the option i suggested. The story of Mileven can be harmoniously watched ONLY in the format of a slow development of a relationship, which in this case has a deep emotional connection and understanding, which we never saw.

anyway, Byler is endgame.