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mike schmidt x f!teacher!reader word count; 2,417 warnings; once again, no plot, just porn <3 summary; mike has a look. that's never a good sign.

 “Follow Mrs Davis and her class for lunch!”

 Mike watched from his seat behind the teacher’s desk as his girlfriend saw her class out the door, hand on the handle and pulling it closed behind them, making sure to twist the lock while she did. The corners of his mouth twitched as she sighed and fell back against the door, blowing a strand of loose hair out of her face. 

 “Long day?” Mike asked and she narrowed her eyes over at him, her lips quirked in a tired grin. “Don’t even get me started,” she grumbled as she pushed herself off of the door, heels clicking against the tile as she made her way back to her desk. 

 “Abby hasn’t been a problem, I hope?” Mike cocked an eyebrow to his hairline as she leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, settling herself down in her chair. She rolled her eyes at this, “you always make it seem like she should be causing trouble,” she tittered. “No, Abby’s always great.”

 She watched as Mike reached for the floor beside him, a plastic takeout bag in his hand and she grinned, wiggling in her seat as he began to unravel the knot in the handles. “Sooo… what did you bring me?” She asked, letting the smell of what she swore was tomato sauce waft through her nostrils.

 “New Italian place opened in the mall. Figured we could try it out,” he replied as he handed her one of the takeout boxes in which she ripped the lid off of, grinning over at Mike. “Spaghetti with meatballs. You know me so well.”

 She leaned forward as he handed her the plastic fork to press a kiss against his lips and Mike smiled, practically chasing after her mouth again when she pulled away. He watched as she spun the spaghetti around her fork, as she took a bite and moaned at the taste. 

 Suddenly, Mike’s jeans felt very tight. 

 “What is this place called? It’s amazing,” she moaned, chewing behind her fingers as she turned to glance over at Mike. “Ten out of ten. This might even be better than your spaghetti and meatballs.”

 Mike, although distracted by something else entirely, furrowed his brows at this, tossing his hands up. “Hey,” he said. “Thought you loved my spaghetti and meatballs.”

 She shrugged, “they’re alright.” Mike playfully shoved her shoulder and she tried to bite back a chuckle, glancing back over to him. “Hey, I don’t see you eating spaghetti and meatballs, why don’t you try and find out?” She laughed, taking a bite from a meatball as Mike pressed his lips together, curved into a grin as he shook his head. “Nah, I’m not that hungry right now.”

 She raised a brow and tilted her head to eye the other takeout box in the plastic bag. “Mike, you haven’t even touched your food,” she tittered, eyeing him incredulously. She narrowed her lids, “you have a look.”

 The corner of Mike’s mouth twitched— she was catching on. “I don’t have a look.”

 Her face fell and she dropped her fork in the to-go box, eyebrow cocked. “Yes, you do.”

 Mike leaned back in his seat and locked his fingers together on his lap, shrugging as he turned his head to face her. “Enlighten me, what look do you think I have?”

 For a fleeting moment, her gaze lowered to the very evident tent in his jeans, her thighs subconsciously clenching together at the sight, cheeks growing warm when he chuckled. She looked away, soothing her palms up and down the length of her skirt and Mike watched, teeth sunken into the inside of his cheek. A scenario played in the forefront of his mind, fantasizing about ripping the skirt clean off her legs and taking her right there on top of her desk had him balling a fist, squeezing his thumb so tight, it almost felt like it’d pop. 

 “Mike…”

 “What?” He murmured, leaning in closer, brushing away the hair curtaining away the side of her face back behind her ear. She melted like wax at his touch, as if her fingertips were flames. Her skin burned so hot now, she feared she actually would melt into a pool of magma on the floor below. 

 “Here?” She whispered as he rolled his chair closer, his breath a phantom looming over her flesh, sending shivers slithering down the coil of her spine. Mike peered up into the sides of her irises, “why not?”

 His lips pressed against the delicate skin just below her ear and she trembled, panicking eyes darting to the door she had thankfully locked. “I’ll give you a million reasons why not,” she murmured as his kisses trailed down to the curve of her shoulder, the scruff on his chin and just above his lips deliciously burning her skin. 

 “I can be sneaky,” he whispered against the valley between her neck and shoulder, his lips a crescent against her skin when he playfully nipped her flesh between his teeth there. She jolted and hissed, clenching her thighs together once more as the familiar slick of warmth burned the pit of her belly. “If somebody walks in, we’re both dead,” she murmured as his palm gripped and soothed down the length of her thigh, kneading at her knee, teasing her, taunting her. 

 “Relax, babe,” he breathed a chuckle against the crook of her neck. “I just want a taste, that’s all. Wouldn’t want you to get all fucked out before the day is over.”

 His low, raspy words had her reeling, her head in a frenzy and teetering on the edge of a mindset she knew she was at risk of falling down into. “Screw you, Mike,” she muttered through gritted teeth as he grinned, placing one last kiss against the breadth of her shoulder before sinking down to his knees on the floor, hanging his head so that he could fit beneath the desk. 

 Her heart drummed against her chest as he slithered his way between her legs, hands on her knees as slowly he parted them, as if he were unwrapping a present on Christmas Day. Through heavy eyelids, she peered down at him just as a silent curse fell from his mouth, teeth burrowed into the plush of his bottom lip as the pads of his thumbs rubbed circles into the inside of her knees. 

 “You’re soaked clean through your panties,” he chuckled and she burned brighter, sweat already beginning to bead at her hairline and her chest heaving to the unsteady beat of her heart. His name fell from her lips in a whispered sigh as he reached forward with his right thumb, pressing the fat of it straight onto her clothed clit, her back arching up off of her chair as he traced an agonizingly slow and painful circle against it, sighing at the way her slick showed through the thin fabric of her underwear. 

 “Fffuck,” he grumbled beneath his breath, hiking the skirt that hugged her curves until they pooled at her hips, pushing her knees further apart until he had full access to everything. His gaze was like a laser, burning through the damp fabric of her panties straight through to her pussy. He eyed her like he was starved, like he’d go hungry if he didn't get himself a taste. 

 Mike hooked his middle and forefinger around the hem of her underwear and tugged, although with some resistance with how wet she was. She gasped when the fabric unstuck itself from her arousal, Mike’s lips falling agape as he tugged her panties all the way down her legs until they hooked around one single ankle. He pressed himself closer, wrapping his arms around her hips and with his palms to her ass, drawing her in even closer until she sat on the edge of her seat. 

 “So fuckin’ pretty,” he marveled at the sight before him, admiring every single inch of her as if she were an artifact. She shuddered beneath his stare. “Mike,” she mewled through a shaky breath, “please.”

 With those deep, rich chocolate brown eyes, he glimpsed up at her and she gazed back, wondering when his pupils ended and his irises started. His eyes glimmered with longing, with desire, with lust. She thought she’d come from just his stare alone. 

 “Have to stay quiet, hm?” He nodded up at her, maintaining eye contact as he pressed a kiss just above her clit, feeling it throb against his chin as she writhed, trying to suppress her mewl. She nodded, pressing her lips together as she briefly glanced up at the door then to the windows— she was so grateful she’d drawn the blinds earlier. 

 Their gazes never leaving one another, Mike carefully leaned down to press a tender kiss on top of her aching bud, her toes curling in, back arching off the back of her chair. One of her hands flung to the mess of dark tendrils atop his head, the other gripping the armrest of her desk chair. Mike pulled away again, the makings of a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Think you can handle it?” He asked and she whimpered, nodding, every ounce of dignity in her body long gone, thrown somewhere far away from right there.

 “Just… please, Mike,” she whined, trying to keep her voice on the low as she gripped the roots of his hair tighter, inviting him back into her warmth, his arousal like a gloss on his lips. The crescent shape of his lips fell back against her clit as he pressed another kiss to it, electricity flowing through her body and making her jolt once more. 

 Mike eyed her through hooded lids as he licked a stripe all the way from her entrance back up the underside of her clit, relishing in the way she’d tremble and press her lips together in a desperate attempt to silence her whimpers. The delectable taste of her arousal coated his tongue and simmered on his taste buds as if she were his ambrosia, and he hummed as he licked another line up her slit. 

 “Taste so damn good,” he practically growled against her cunt as he plunged his face back in, his lips around her clit and tongue swirling against the sensitive nub. Tears were streaming down the sides of her face now as she threw her head back, using every last ounce of strength inside her body to will her moans to stay at a minimum. All she could do was pray that nobody would come knocking on her classroom door now. 

 A string of curses, his name among the mix, tumbled from her lips as he sucked her clit, every swirl of his tongue coaxing her closer and closer to the edge. She was balancing on a tightrope now, teetering on bliss as his tongue trailed down to her entrance, slow but firm as it pushed its way in. Her fingers tightened in the mess of hair on his head, pulling harder, making him surge into her. 

 She could feel every inch of his tongue inside of her and he was so close, the bridge of his nose pressed deliciously down on her clit, sending her down into a spiral of pleasure. She squeezed her eyelids together so tight, she was seeing stars, a shimmering backdrop of glitter as he swirled his muscle inside of her, humming into her at her taste. 

 “Sh… shi… shit, Mike!” She gasped as he nodded his head, tongue swirling inside of her, the bridge of his nose rubbing up and down against her clit. Her eyes were rolling into the back of her hand, every move his tongue made and every bit of pressure his nose applied to her clit added more rubber bands to the ball pressing down against the pit of her belly, dangerously close to erupting. “I’m… I’m gonna come if you don’t… if you don’t stop.”

 Mike blinked up at her and pulled away for breath, every inch of his face from the bridge of his nose down slick and shiny with her arousal. She felt herself clench at the mere sight as his chest heaved, chasing air back into his lungs, a smug smirk on his face. “I’m betting on it, babe,” he chuckled before diving back in, her pussy empty one moment and nearly full of his tongue the next. 

 His eagerness almost had her screaming, her nails scraping so hard against his scalp, somewhere in the back of her mind, she feared she’d draw blood. Mike hummed against her— he didn’t seem to mind so much. 

 Oh, how could he when he could sense she was so close? He could practically smell her orgasm, using every ounce of skill in his body to push her even closer to the edge, to knock her unsteady on top of that tightrope until it snapped below her altogether. 

 With her hand not tangled in his hair, she sank her teeth into the side of her hand to muffle the scream that ripped through her body, squeezing her eyelids shut even tighter as her body spasms, bones rattling in her release’s wake. Her orgasm thundered and cracked through her body like an earthquake, the sheer power of her release like a tempest. Her thighs squeezed around Mike’s head and he palmed at the sides of them as he swirled his tongue inside of her again and again, making sure not a drop of her went to waste. 

 He was practically drinking her, slurping every last drop until there was none left to be had. And only when that moment came did he pull away, breathless as he sat back on his heels below her desk, swiping at the slick dripping down his face with the back of his hand. 

 Mike gazed up at her curiously, her head still thrown back over the back of the chair, chest heaving up and down as she struggled to catch her breath. He chuckled as he pushed himself out from underneath her desk and up so that he could stand beside her, a palm cupping her cheek, the other aiding her head to sit normally on her shoulders. The pad of his thumb soothed over against her cheek, coaxing her out of her bleary state, her vision slowly beginning to clear again. 

 Mike tried to bite back his smile, “doing alright there?”

 She huffed as her cheeks burned, “shut up, Mike.”

a/n; i ended up writing up this one in like 45 minutes while sitting in the bathtub LMAO y'all went absolutely crazy with the last mike fic, you literally broke my tumblr notifications 😭 glad to see so many others horny for josh in this movie too

TAGLIST !!

@bxbyyyjocelyn

Update some pencil sketches I did this year.

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS: 1x05 - "Everybody Wants to Be My Enemy" ↳ "I couldn't have done it without you."

No one knows Sergio’s city name is Vatican except for Raquel and she only ever says it in bed

Is there any chosoyuki enjoyers?.!.??

helping hands

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Premise: That’s the thing about Joel — he is desperate for control. You don’t blame him, everyone is nowadays. But there are times, like tonight, that he needs something else.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, handjob, oral sex (m receiving), edging, orgasm denial, praise kink, sub!joel, dom!reader

Note: you can't expect to show me a moody, reluctant single dad and not write about him ok. i haven't played tlou, so this is based off the first episode of the show.

You learn early on that overthinking won’t do you any good. There is no place for that in this new world. Everyone and everything has been reduced to a single instinct: survive.

Joel taught you that.

“You wanna survive? Stop thinking. Just go. Or else that shit is gonna swallow you whole.”

Ironically, out of all the things to make you overthink, it’s Joel that makes your head spin. He told you he has no love left in him, that whatever is between the two of you is all physical. You accept it, there is no way to hide the horror etched in his face. You believe him, just not entirely. You still have hope that he has room in his heart. Maybe not for love, but for endearment. It’s not much, but you’ll take it.

Especially if it means having Joel Miller reduced to a moaning mess. 

“You’re doing so well, Joel. Just hold on a little bit longer, okay?” You kiss his temple as he all but bucks into your touch. Your fingers wrap around his hard length, pumping and squeezing gently at the base of his cock until he nods, gasping. 

You’ve been at this for far too long, moonlight traveling through the his shitty apartment above with graceful ease, as if the world hasn’t turned to shit. Joel is usually the one making you beg for release, but how can you deny him when he's like this?

There is a sweet ache between your legs that screams for attention, and surely, had he not been brought to the edge over and over again, he’d fill you with his cock until he you felt him in your throat.

But this isn’t about you. 

This is about him and how he's wrapped up so tightly in his pain and anger that he can barely function. He is a mess of hard knots, so harshly coiled it leaves the rest of him in shreds.

He was so rigid when you stopped by, his jaw clenched so tightly you could taste blood in your kisses, but now those imaginary knots are starting to unravel. With every stroke and squeeze to his cock, he’s unwinding.

You hum sweet praise in his ear when his hand comes to your wrist, trying to hold onto you as his only leverage.

That’s the thing about Joel — he is desperate for control. You don’t blame him, everyone is nowadays. And you’re more than happy to give that to him. It's all for him. He craves control and you're willing to grant him it. But there are times, rare as they are, that he needs something else. You like to think you know him, and that tonight is a sort of attestation of that. It isn’t like every other night. He doesn’t need to bury himself deep into you until all you feel is him.

No, not this time. This time, he needs you to settle him.

You lay beside each other, your lips peppering his cheeks and chin and nose and lips and everywhere with kisses, and Joel looks just about ready to completely unwind. He gasps you name when you rub over the underside of him with a maddeningly slow motion.

“It’s okay, baby,” You assure, your hand sticky as your thumb comes to the tip of his cock where he drips precum. He groans, biting his lip and turning his head so he can hide his face in your neck, muffling his moans. He’s exposed, all the way down to his bones as he twitches in your hold. “I’m here. Let it all out for me, okay? You’re safe. You’re alright.”

The groan that tumbles out of him is louder than before.

“You’re so close, baby,” You press against the the vein on the underside of his cock feeling the way his pulse increases, how he is ready to come undone. He all but thrashes, ready and heated. Your lips tenderly trace the at the underside of his jaw, the skin around your mouth burning from his prickly stubble. 

You’re both sweaty, too warm in the best way possible, making him feel as though he is going to spiral out of his skin. You know because this makes you feel the same way. The control, the trust he puts in you to keep him dancing on the edge of release. Every flutter of his pulse, every sound he makes sends a dull throb of arousal shuddering down your spine until you feel your own heartbeat between your legs.

“Sweetheart,” He breathes out, the syllables stretching in his mouth. He's going to come undone. You can feel it in the way his cock twitches in your hand. You can smell it mixing with the sweet smell of whiskey on his breath. The orgasm building in him is overwhelming, a massive blackhole with him in the center bucking his hips as you move down his shaft.

“Do you want to finish?” You ask, your voice a soothing balm as his hips flex, begging for mercy. You’re strong, stronger than him, and your mind isn’t hazy with overwhelming pleasure like his. You have the leverage. It should unsettle him, shake him enough to have you pinned to the bed.

Yet, he stays in your embrace. He lets you keep him at the edge of release, lets you build his orgasm until his eyes roll back in his head. He isn’t safe in his own hands, his palms stained in blood that never seems to come out, but in yours, he is unwinding. He's okay, or at least as okay as one can feel in this fucked up world.

“Sweetheart! Fuck—” He curses as you make another slide back up to his tip, teasingly pressing your thumb against his slit, thick precum oozing around the pad of your thumb. There is no way he can last; all his nerve endings have bubbled to the surface, every ounce of pleasure has engulfed him.

“Just a little bit longer, I promise,” You pet his hair as you continue stroking his hardness. “Is that okay?”

It takes him a moment to nod, a strangled "yes" caught in his throat when you take your hand away from him. His cock lands back against his stomach, painfully hard and leaking precum. The movement alone is almost enough to make him come, but he holds back. He bites his lip as you push him onto his back.

With a final kiss to his lips, you're moving. Lower and lower. Trailing your lips down his chest and stomach, following the trail of peppered hair on his belly that leads you to his flushed cock. As you smile up at him, he brings his hands to your shoulders.

“You don’t—” He starts, his words harsh and fumbling as you place a delicate kiss to the thick head of his cock.

“I want to.”

“‘M not gonna last.” He's so fucking sensitive you’re sure he's going to lose it any second.

“Don’t want you to last. Just tell me what feels best, okay? Don’t hold back.”

Keeping your eyes locked, you open your mouth, taking him in inch by inch in a sinfully smooth glide. Your thighs rub together, your throbbing intensified, but you’re much more interested in how he arches his back so sharply. How he turns to putty in your hands. It takes Joel no time to start rocking into your mouth, speech fragmented into various commands of what he wants you to do, to take him deeper, to suck harder — and you relax your throat to make space.

Running soothing fingers over his hips, he seems to be at the point of sobbing — “That — fuck — that’s g—good, sweetheart,” — your name a prayer on his tongue, and you grant him mercy.

He doesn’t need you to say he can finish — not with the adoring look in your eyes, and certainly not with the way your throat relaxes to take him all the way down. Joel dissolves into thrusts and useless, barely understood speech until he releases in your mouth. Every breath he takes is a scrap of your name or a ragged pant as the salty taste of him floods your tastebuds.

You stay between his legs, his cock pulsing in your mouth as you gently contract your throat to swallow his release. Truthfully, if you didn’t have his cock in your mouth, you’d have shit-eating grin plastered on your face, even with his come trickling out the corner of your mouth. This isn't the first time you've seen Joel fall apart, but it's always a welcomed image regardless.

You wait until he weakly pushes at your shoulders to move you away, releasing this cock from your mouth in a soft, wet sounding pop, licking the tip for good measure.

When you move your way back up his body, he doesn’t seem to have any strength left, doing little more than whispering your name as you wrap your arms around him. Pulling him close, you ask, “How you feeling? Better?”

“Y—yeah, baby. Good,” He mutters, moving down just enough to rest his head against your chest. "You're a fucking blessing."

He nuzzles between your breasts, letting the salty taste of your skin coat his lips. He finds the strength to wrap his own arms around you, pressing his fingertips lightly into your back as though he never wants to let you go.

You try not to think how you and Joel got to the point. Don't think, just do. It doesn't matter how you ended up here, all that matters is that you're here. That throughout the decay and pain, there is something that matters. It's not love, but something else. Endearment, affection, softness. What matters is the he curled into you and that you're able to take the stress and pain and frustration away from him.

Joel feels good against you, warm and solid.

thank you for reading! this was my first time writing outside of star wars, so i hope you enjoyed! comments, reblogs, and likes are all appreciated 💙