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sameschmidtdiffname · 9 months ago

Note

I was wondering if you could do a fic with Mike Schmidt x fem!reader and the quote “can I stack donuts on it?” I apologize in advance 😭

THE FUCKING SCREAM I SCRUMPT WHEN I GOT THISSSSSS BITCH YOU GOT ITTTTTT

Cherries & Cream

Mike Schmidt x AFAB!Reader

Summery: It's a modest holiday. Spent indoors, soft music on the cassette player... oh, and a collection of bad ideas snowballed into a day of sticky situations

Tags: No use of Y/N, author has fucking lost it, comedy, Valentine's Day fic, mentions of failed masturbation attempts, mentions of inappropriate use of lightsabers and water snakes (I SAID AUTHOR HAS FUCKING LOST IT- DONT ASK, JUST READ, IT AINT THAT BAD!), sex toys, handcuffs, sex dice, pre-established relationship, food sex, blowjob, facial, Mike gets restrained like we all know he wants to be.

Notes: I'm not apologizing for shit.

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"These are ridiculous questions."

"Oh, come on. Don't be a sourpuss," I say. Cards are scattered around the small box on our bed, both of us long deciding we'd clean up later.

"What does it say?" I ask him, leaning forward. I'm straddling his chest, my arms crossed against mine, dressed in nothing but one of his shirts. His hand on my hip is halfway under the black material, his pointer finger twisting the old cotton around his digit. His other hand holds a dark purple card that he rolls his eyes at before shifting them to focus on me towering over him.

"It doesn't even apply to you," he says.

"And how do you know?" I say smugly.

"Because I've sucked your dick and it's not big enough to apply," he says

"What? Give me that." I snatch the card from his hand, ignoring his laughter as he shifts his hand to rest on my other hip, rubbing soothing circles into my skin while I read.

'What's the weirdest thing you have ever stuck your dick in?'

A short laugh escapes me, a bit louder than it should be with Abby sleeping peacefully down the hall.

"I'm waiting," Mike jokes, smiling up at me with his lips twisted into a smug expression of sarcasm.

"I mean, I stuck a toy lightsaber up my snatch once," I say casually.

"What?" He bellows, descending into a fit of laughter so grand his chest is rattling underneath of me, making my face bloom with blood in embarrassment.

"I was fourteen!" I say quickly in my defense. This doesn't help my case, making him cackle loud enough I grab a pillow to shove onto his face to muffle his fit. He grabs my wrists before it can descend, holding them up as he wheezes.

"Oh, Qui-Gon Jin! You're my only hope!" He relaxes his grip slightly, allowing me to stiffle his incessant noise.

"That was Obi-Wan, and I liked Darth Vader!"

His hands shove the pillow away from his red face, eyes teary and judgemental.

"He's burnt!"

"It was the vibe! Mysterious, dark, and that voice!" I protest. Mike makes a pitiful attempt at the sounds of Vader's breathing through his mask, muddled with spit from his laughter. "James Earl Jones has a handsome voice!"

"It's just so hot," Mike cackled.

"Mike."

"Nothing can hold a candle to it."

"Michael."

"Makes me go-" a crude imitation of lightsaber noises is the last thing Mike can communicate before I'm slamming the pillow down on him, making him laugh harder and block his face from my playful blows as he begs for mercy.

"You're a dick!"

"You'd stick yours in one of those- those-" as he regains his breath and I lessen my attacks, he snaps his fingers, one hand slapping gently against my thigh for thought.

"Oh, you know. One of those fucken- the uh..." He makes a jerking motion with his snapping hand, his eyes rolling up to the ceiling like the answer is written on the spot where some poster used to be.

"A hand?" I ask, crossing my arms and glaring down at him.

"No. One of those toys that had like water in them and you could like- I don't know what the point of them was, some sensory thing. There was like water, maybe fish or sparkles stuffed inside," he describes, gesturing his hand as he speaks.

The image begins to click together in my mind. "Oh yeah. Water snakes?" I ask. He slaps my thigh, snapping his fingers and pointing at me with wide eyes.

"That's the fucker. Yeah, you'd stick your dick in that," he says confidently, nodding and relaxing in satisfaction with his statement.

"Okay, but you can like slide those things in and out so honestly that's kind of genius," I say.

"That plastic burns like a motherfucker though. And it's got those seams for the plastic so lube doesn't help," Mike says, one arm curled above his head and his other hand once more rubbing my hip.

"That's descriptive," I say with narrowed eyes. I lean forward, my face hovering above his. His relaxed hazel eyes widen slightly, but only by a hair. His rubbing stutters. His body language is still casual, but has stiffened enough to betray him.

"Just a thought."

"How old were you?"

"I did not- fifteen."

It's my turn to snicker now, picking my pillow back up and smacking him once more in the head.

"Okay, okay. Teenagers are idiots. Next card, next card," he says laughing, hand now searching for a new card from the deck. "Oh my God. What food item would you use during sex- babe, where the fuck did you find this game?"

"It was some dirty Santa gift, got it a couple years ago," I say with the wave of my hand. "Anyways, it's my turn to ask the question."

"Oh right. Pick a new one," he says, flicking the card away.

"Well, hang on now. On the topic of poor sexual choices and food, what would you use for that?" I ask, smirking and crossing my arms across my chest once more. He glares at me, lips pressed firmly together as he narrows his eyes. There's a long silence, neither of us speaking as we decide who's going to break it.

"Donuts," he finally says.

"Donuts?"

"Yeah. They have the hole," he adds as if it explains everything.

"Uh huh."

"Okay, you used a fucking lightsaber, you cannot-"

"I was fourteen, you are twenty-eight. What happens if you squeeze the thing too hard and you've just got crumbs and frosting all over you?" I ask.

"I wouldn't fuck the damn thing. I'd, like, stack them," he clarifies. "Do it like one of those really cheesy porno bits like 'did someone order some food?' And just rip open the trenchcoat to reveal several donuts stacked on my dong."

"Michael, you've put a weird amount of thought into this."

"It's the fucking question!"

"Okayokayokay- so hypothetically," I begin.

"Mm-hmm."

"If I brought home a box of donuts-"

"Nice ones. Krispy Kreme or some shit, I'm not getting sugar in my shit if it's cheap," he insists.

"...glad to know. If I brought home a box of overpriced donuts and a trench coat-"

"Take the coat out, that was a bit."

"Will you let me finish?"

"That'd be the preferred outcome," he interrupts again. "But like, before the donut thing. If it was like, y'know." He thrusts his hips into the air slightly, not to be arousing but to clarify. Because that's the part he can't say out loud. "'Cause you can't get sugar in your snatch."

"You can't get sugar in your snatch," I repeat slowly, blinking.

"Don't ask."

"Right. So if I brought home the Kreme-y goods, you would present yourself to me with a donut dick?" I ask. He rolls his eyes, suppressing a smile.

"Sure."

Valentine's Day. A day for kids and new couples, mainly. And since this household is aging out of both of those demographics, Mike and I had decided to go smaller this year. Not that we went huge every year before, neither of us feeling quite like blowing a shit load of cash on the day. But usually we booked a reservation at a decent restaurant, put on some nicer clothes, and spent the holiday just having a nice family dinner. But Abby was old enough she was itching to attend some sleepover at a friend's house for the holiday, and Mike and I felt fine just ordering in and playing a card game that we usually thumbed through while bored.

"Do 12 year olds even get valentines?" Mike asks, sprawled upon the bed the night before.

"I don't know, I didn't," I shrug. "She's just visiting her friends and wearing pink so they can gorge on chocolate, sounds like a good holiday to me."

He considers this, scratching his jaw as he continues staring at the ceiling.

"Valentine's Day alone. What trouble we could cause," he teases.

"What food are we ordering in for the trouble, anyways?" I ask, looking up from the box of my things I'd been unpacking, hanging up pictures and placing knick knacks around the room and new desk we'd shoved in earlier that evening.

"Chinese?" He asks.

"Gas for Valentine's Day, I'll love that," I say. He laughs. "How about Italian?"

"Makes me bloated, you'll be top," he says. "What are we doing in that department? I mean, we probably should do something."

"You say that like sex is a chore," I say with a raised brow, looking up at him for a moment from the box.

"Oh, hell no," he says. "If that's a chore than it's my favorite."

"Chores typically bring you closer to God."

"Than I'm smokin' it with Jesus, fuck yeah."

At that I laugh, tossing a small box at him that rattles with something inside. He catches it, laughing and pulling it open out of curiosity.

"Oh ho! What are these?" He asks, holding up a small, hot pink cube.

"Oh Jesus, I thought I lost those. They're-"

"Sex dice!" He laughs. "You whore!"

"I'm not a whore, I just went to college!" I laugh defensively. His eyebrows raise.

"Popular?"

"Fuck off," I groan. "My ex bought those, I just kept them."

Mike rolls the dice in his hands, actually sitting up and crossing his legs on the bed before sending them flying across the quilt.

"Suck toe," Mike reads. "That's disappointing."

"We never used toe, we always just picked a different spot," I say.

"Like?" He asks.

"I don't know, it varied. I guess it was kinda a pick your poison spot," I say. "You wouldn't believe how often it lands on toe."

"The universe is trying to tell you something," he says.

"The universe can suck it," I say. Mike rolls one of the dice again.

"Tit. Nice. I'll be acting as ambassador for said universe sucking-"

"You'll be acting as helping me unpack these dresses," I say, setting the box on the bed in front of him. He stands with a sigh, hands on his hips as he awaits his work. I take out a few dresses and lay them in his arms before returning to my work of organizing the closets.

"Hold 'em," I say.

"Just hold them?"

"Yeah."

"You made me get up for this?"

"Before you find the handcuffs in there? Yeah," I say.

"Handcuffs? We've been together for three years, you're moving into my house and now I'm finding out you have handcuffs?" Mike asks incredulously.

"I didn't know that would upset you," I say honestly, shrugging.

"Upset? I've been deprived! You're a freak and haven't taken it out on me!" He says overdramatically. I roll my eyes but smile.

"I'm not a freak, I've only slept with like, two other guys. That's it," I say.

"So the guys were freaks," he says.

"I mean, I wasn't saying no," I admit.

"So you're a freak when asked?"

"You sound like a teenager."

"I sound like a guy who's gonna be home alone with his girlfriend and sex toys tomorrow, yeah, I sound like a teenager," he says.

"Oh, so we're ordering in and banging all night?" I ask, raising a brow in amusement.

"Was that not the plan already?" He asks.

"I wasn't gonna say it, but if you want to."

The night was spent laying out plans of debauchery. After dropping off Abby in the early afternoon at her friends the next day, Mike and I made a slight detour before heading home, where the items were laid out before us.

Whipped cream. Donuts. Handcuffs. Dice. And some cheap, bottom of the $5 bin collection of 'Top 100 Sexy Songs for Valentine's Day' cassette tape that Mike had grabbed from a local music store during our trip.

"Do you ever question the things we do while bored?" Mike asks, staring at the ceiling, butt naked and handcuffed to the bedframe while I straddle his thighs, trying to figure out how exactly I'm gonna do this.

"Do you?" I ask, pinching his soft tip between my fingers.

"I'm starting to," he says, glancing at the can of whipped cream that was starting to sweat on the bedside table beside us. "I had questions before I shaved my junk for this, but I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Good. Keep that philosophy, I think I figured it out," I say, finally leaning for the box of glazed donuts we'd hardly been able to act mature about buying while going through the drive through. We're not seeing the gates of heaven.

"Shouldn't you get me hard first? It's just gonna grow," he says in questioning, trying to look down at what I'm doing.

"No, because then I'll have to keep you hard and that's gonna deflate quickly," I say. He nods in agreement, satisfied and sighing in slight boredom as I begin my task, trying to get the first donut on without breaking.

"Ow! Are- are you trying to fucking fold my shit?" He asks, his voice slightly higher than it was a moment ago.

"You're bigger than the hole, it's gonna break the donut! It's soft, isn't it?" I ask.

"Not that soft!" He says a bit frantic.

"Okay, what if I stretch it out like this?" I ask, tugging his dick upwards.

"I'm gonna ask you not to!" Mike says. His thumbs find the latches for the handcuffs, undoing one so he can reach down himself. "Jesus Christ- you're gonna break me!"

"This is my job," I say amused, giggling as I cover my mouth with my hand.

He ignores me, examining himself and the donut before glaring at the corner of the room, sighing.

"Motherfucker, I've been blessed, goddammit," he groans.

"What a humble statement," I say, trying not to laugh.

"This is humbling enough. Do what you will, I guess," he says, flopping back onto the bed, donut in hand and taking a bite from it as he crosses his ankles beneath me.

"I need that," I say.

"There's eleven more, this is my consolation prize," he says through his mouthful, returning his glare to the ceiling.

"You gonna redo the handcuff?" I ask.

"I'll redo your fucken dad," he snaps, but shoves the rest of the donut in his mouth as he fiddles with the handcuffs once again, groaning as I start on my work.

It takes half an hour, four donuts and a ridiculous amount of whipped cream, but the deed is done. Stepping off the bed, I behold my work of a restrained, glaring, donut stacked and cream covered Mike with a proud smile.

"This was exponentially hotter in my head," he mutters, looking down at himself.

"You don't like it?" I ask.

"I didn't say that, I'm just not drooling over- where are you going?" He asks. I quickly dart out of the room, racing to the kitchen as a series of 'babe?' Rings throughout the house. I open the fridge quickly, find the box of cherries and race back into the bedroom, holding it up as though it were a crown jewel.

"Ohh, my fucking God," Mike loudly drawls, rolling his eyes.

"I almost forgot," I say with malicious glee.

"I wish you had," he says, staring at the ceiling. "You're sick in the head."

"This was your idea."

"I'm sick in the head, I repent, I repent."

Placing a fat cherry carefully on top of the fluffy tip, I smile in true satisfaction.

"Perfect," I say, hands working to undo my house robe, shrugging it off and leaving me in simple lingerie instead.

"Now you faceplant into my dessert dick. Delicious," he deadpans.

"Mike, if you really don't wanna do this-"

"I'm gonna get a fucking UTI, just fulfill the high school fantasy already. I'll have no shame once I'm hard," he spits out quickly, jerking against the restraints slightly in impatience.

Well, that's true enough.

I lean forward, trying to figure out where to start, deciding between bottom or top.

"Babe, this is mortifying, just do some- oh-kay," Mike groans, his hips shifting slightly as I gently suck one of his freshly shaved balls into my mouth, my tongue swirling around it as I grip his thighs. The stack shifts slightly, Mike moaning as he thrusts against nothing.

My mouth works his sack for a little bit, one of my hands trailing down to between his legs to press against the spot behind his balls, making him keen into my touch as he moans loudly, the handcuffs clicking against the frame of our bed as he squirms. When I'm sure he's hardened properly underneath, I remove my mouth, making him whine as I glance up at him, smiling.

"Doing good?" I ask sweetly, pressing my fingers harder into the spot between his legs.

"Still mortifying, just keep going," he moans shamelessly, his cheeks red as he keeps his eyes closed in embarrassment.

I lean down once more, licking at the melting whipped cream on the tip of his cock, his moans growing louder as my tongue finds contact with his cock, his skin cold and wet underneath of the cream. I'm barely able to reach his actual tip, my tongue sticking down far in the hole of the top donut. I begin biting into the food, quickly tearing away at my work in eagerness of what awaits.

There's probably a special place in Hell reserved for the two of us for doing something like this and enjoying it, but I promise you, if you could see the look on his face right now, blushing wildly and trying to hide behind the bulk of his large arm, it would be worth it.

Once the first two donuts are gone I take off the cherry from the top, dangling it over his mouth in teasing.

"Want some?" I ask. He just groans in response, his cock twitching from neglect. I chuckle, tossing the fruit away and quickly taking him into my mouth, drawing a sharp, high moan from him as I suck eagerly, admiring the taste of his skin mixed with the sweet sugar from the food.

Yeah. Definitely worth it.

Pre-cum shoots into my mouth as he rolls his hips into my face, my hand still working against him as I swirl my tongue around his tip, sucking harshly as I watch him. His back arches against the bed, his head thrown back in pleasure as he loses himself in the feeling of my mouth against him.

"Go deeper," he begs, his voice soft as he bucks into my mouth, his arms straining against the handcuffs. "Holy shit, please go deeper."

His hips buck harshly against my face, smashing the two other donuts and an annoying amount of cream into my face, covering me in a facial I didn't ask for.

I pull away from him, stopping my hand and just staying still for a moment to allow him a proper look at my face.

"... I do not like this," I deadpan. I'd blink if I could open my eyes right now.

Small whines escape him as his hips continue moving, questions being voiced then everything ceasing all at once as I guess he takes a good look at me. There's a moment of silence, then he bursts out laughing at the sight, loud and obnoxious.

"It's in your hair!" He exclaims, probably wishing he could point at me as I blindly search for the hand towel nearby.

"I hope this was worth it," I say flatly, suppressing my own giggle.

"Oh, the feeling is awful, but you're doing great," he says sweetly, still chuckling as he watches me wipe at my face, groaning at the stickiness of it all.

"Jesus, I'm a mess," he says, looking down at himself. "Can we just take that off and-"

"Yeah, normal blow job, on it," I finish for him, quickly taking off the other two, very smushed donuts and discarding of them inside the box. "You have horrible ideas "

"You wanted us to try new shit, this is not on me," he laughs, smiling at me. "But thank you for answering a decade old question."

"You're weird," I say.

"Just fuck me," he says back.

Quickly I take him back into my mouth, deepthroating him and encouraging him to fuck my mouth, focusing on my breathing as he does with blind obedience. His thighs press against the sides of my head, squeezing slightly as his tip rams into the back of my throat, all gentleness off the table. My tongue slides against his prominent vein, feeling how he throbs, his cock stiff and twitching from the stimulation. He pants loudly, whining when I press my tongue harder into his vein, a loud 'snap' echoing from near his head.

His movements cease for a moment, his chest heaving as realization crosses his face.

"... the handcuffs weren't expensive, right?" He asks inbetween gasps, holding up his hands to show the cheap cuffs now hanging uselessly around his wrists.

My eyebrows raise in surprise, my head beginning to lift off of him when one of his hands comes down on my head, suddenly gripping my hair as he begins to fuck my mouth with new vigor, tearing lewd sounds from my throat as I gag sharply around him.

"Fuck it, I'll buy another pair," he decides, slamming quickly into my throat as he pulls my hair sharply, his pre-cum beginning to thicken in my mouth. "It's not like you mind, right, sweetheart?" He asks, propping himself up with one arm to watch as I swallow his dick eagerly, one of my hands dipping down to play with my clit. He tugs sharply at my hair, making me whine as his other hand smacks quick and gentle against my hollowing cheek before pointing at me.

"No," he says sharply. "I'll deal with you after."

His hand strokes my cheek as he continues fucking my face, his thumb trained on my chin, keeping my mouth open wide for him. His eyes are glazed over in pleasure as he watches me, my spit dribbling down my chin as I take him, my legs pressed tightly together as I grab blindly at his thighs, admiring the thickness as I gag on his cock.

"Fuck- you're so pretty," he moans, his cock twitching in closeness. "And kind." I moan appreciatively around him, eager to feel his cum down my throat as I dig my nails into his thighs. "Don't know how I got so lucky."

His hand roughly drags my head up by my hair, forcing me off of his cock and making me whine as I try to take him back into my mouth. His hand wraps around his length, pumping quickly as he watches me.

"Keep your mouth open, pretty girl," he commands softly. I obey, sticking out my tongue slightly, eager to please. He smiles at the sight, his lashes fluttering shut once more as he fucks his hand quickly, using my thick spit as lube, beginning to lose rhythm.

"I'm gonna cum," he warns breathily. "I'm gonna- fuck!"

His words stutter as he gasps, his hand squeezing roughly at his cock as his cum hits my face, warm and thick against my skin. We watch each other as the first few ropes cover my face, admiring the other in a hazy cloud of desire and satisfaction. Then he shoves his cock back into my mouth, his hand pumping me up and down his length again as he finishes shooting his load down my throat, admiring my new look.

"I'm just- gonna do this for awhile," he gasps, his cock still stiff in my mouth as his flow of cum begins to slow, his hips still quick in contrast.

I moan around him, my cunt clenching in want.

"Don't worry," he says, reaching for something in the nightstand, pulling open a drawer and revealing his new gift for me. "You'll get some fun too."

When I tell y'all this motherfucker somehow found a dildo shaped like a fucking lightsaber.

Goddammit, I'm gonna marry him.

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You heard me.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

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how would y'all feel if I told you the title was a pun from that old 'berries and cream' meme

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