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lovelykhaleesiii · 5 months

Note

dark!mike with vanessa sister…

perhaps she’s a police officer (or cop whatever people call them) like her sister or vanessa just brings her along.

Vanessa gets a call about a break in somewhere else and leaves her sister with mike at the pizzeria, one thing leads to another and mike her up against the desk.

(not the best at trying to explain stuff, sorry!!)

Good Cop, Bad Cop

PAIRING: Dark!Mike Schmidt x fem!Afton!Reader

WORDS: 2,352.

WARNINGS: swearing, p in v sexual intercourse, breast play, degradation kink, slight praise kink, dark!Mike, possessive qualities. Mike being a tease.

A/N - thank you for sending this request in! hope I did it justice x please feel free to leave a comment / reblog :)

It was nothing out of the ordinary, being paired with your elder sister, Vanessa, tagging along her side during the night shifts. If you were being quite honest with yourself, you had suspected it. Besides, she was your senior, a colleague, as you were just a fresh, new recruit in the local police department. To break the ice, your sheriff thought it best to pair you two together, nonetheless.

"Just need to make a quick stop-"

As the alluring neon red and blue lights flickered off from the reflection of the dark, stained glass, your curious eyes wandered towards the desolate, outdated building before you. From the sheer glimpse of the ruined exterior, an uneasy sensation, some hesitation to even leave the vehicle began to churn in the pit of your stomach. This place did not look welcoming by the least, despite the shattered fragments of cartoonish figures decorated on its exterior: most likely an attempt to appeal to the children of previous generations.

"Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria?" You confounded, naturally feeling the puzzling flex of your brows furrowing with confusion, as you turned to face your elder sister in the driver's seat.

"Just need to make a quick round, Mike here is the new security guard... This place is known for vandals and criminal activity. And he's only one person."

With the swift mention of his name, Vanessa's head instinctively nudged towards the direction of the older, rugged looking brunette, who stood by the locked entrance of the neglected complex. Eerily as if he had heard the mention of his name, even with the substantial distance apart, his head flicked upwards as means of a wordless "hello."

His features felt unthreatening, strewed with a tinge of exhaustion, as you noticed the dark circles that saturated beneath his eyes. Regardless, you could not deny, he was quite pleasing to look at, a handsome face nonetheless: it was a shame he spent his nights hidden away in some remote corner of town, and his days asleep.

"Glad to see you made it through another night. Just wanted to make sure you hadn't run into trouble already. This is my sister, by the way, and our new rookie, Y/N-"

"Dragged you along, did she now?" Mike remarked, and although you surmised it was his attempt to kid, his tone remained monotoned, except for the subtle, sly smirk across his face, as he assertively leaned his hands over to shake your own. His grip was strong against your own, his hand larger in size, swallowing your own, his texture rough. His lingering eyes had been fixated on you since you came into his vision: catching fleeting yet blatant glances, he showed no shame when you had caught him those few instances. A sudden, flustering wave of heat flashed across your face, feeling your cheeks turn shamefully scarlet. Even disguised in your uniform, declaring such authority, you felt bashfully meek in his presence, rather a school girl than a cop.

As Vanessa's familiar voice echoed in the background, your attention panned to the vacant, decaying building. It felt somewhat eerily familiar, a faint memory you could scamper in your mind in the distance and yet nothing jolted a clear vision.

The abrupt static whirring of the radio from the vehicle had snapped you back to reality: immediately she excused herself as she scattered off, leaving you to bask with Mike.

"S-So you've only just started as security... Here?" You softly stutter, intent on maintaining direct eye contact with Mike in reciprocation, even though it felt conflicting against your meek nature. Despite the practical training and experience dealing with delinquents, this vulnerability was a first. He seemed timid yet unnerving simultaneously: you felt uncertain whether he was simply just a quiet, introverted man or if he truly intended to disguise and deceit himself as one.

"No-No, I've been here for a month now, your sister just likes to make her rounds. Think she's still uncertain about me, but I don’t blame her."

His response ignited a satisfying wave of relief: as you leaned towards the hurtful notion that he would ignore you. The huskiness in his low voice almost made it feel as though he was sleep talking, only loud enough for you to hear.

"Just a curious thing though, your uh- sister. She's never mentioned you before...W-Why's that?" He uttered, as his brows frowned in sync with his words, a bemused look tinged across his face, as he patiently awaited your answer.

"W-Well V's always been private about her personal life. Since I could remember, sh-she's always been this particular way. Just her innate nature, I s'pose," Defeatedly sighing garnishing your final words, with an indefinite shrug, before glancing back at Vanessa, caught in her own world.

"Well, your sister took no time trusting me... But you- You are the undetected anomaly in her story. There must be a reason..."

Vanessa had abruptly left in the company of a man you had just met.. Having hastily returned from the radio call, from a fellow colleague requesting for her senior presence as backup, she was bound to follow. She had insisted you remain with Mike as he settled for the night, whether he approved of it or not however, you could not say with certainty. He remained silent and sullen, as you both carefully watched your elder sister driving off into the nightly distance, the glaring neon blue and red lights flashing in the distance.

Mike had led you in, gesturing you to enter first as a gentleman would, before shutting the entrance close once more. Thankfully, he had broken the awkward silence, excusing himself momentarily to boost the electricity, only to give you a brief tour of the premises before guiding you into the security office, where the blank monitor screens echoed your reflection.

"So you really just sit here the entire night? And watch the screens?" You intrigued, feeling the natural flex of your brows furrowing, as you fiddled with the papers and dusty stationary on the desktop. A part of you, unable to fathom that a job like this would exist in such a deserted place like this.

"A job is a job for me. At that point, I was willing to take anything they offered." The monotone level of his voice was unwavering, deep, his tiresome eyes remained fixated on you though, as you remained unwilling to return the favour.

"I suppose so, don't you get lonely all by yourself though? Nothing to make the time go by-"

With no spatial awareness, you hadn't even realised how close Mike had slowly crept towards you. Closing off the distance inch by inch, before he assertively strode towards you. The unfamiliar sensation of his arm snaking around your waist, was what had caught your deficient attention, as he plunged his lips against your own in a passionate kiss. And although your eyes had widened in bewilderment, your body froze like an ancient statue in the initial seconds, as your mind raced to comprehend. As he lingered on, pursuing the kiss, your tense muscles easing, you felt no obligation to shove Mike off. No urge to decline his advance, it felt destined, relaxed into his embrace.

"W-What was that about?" You breathlessly stuttered: not wanting to decline Mike nor give the impression that you had disapproved. Despite only having met the man an hour ago, he made you feel helpless, like some schoolgirl with a pathetic, little crush that devoured her from the inside out.

Was it truly the boredom of the night that had consumed his rational mind, to do something that seemed quite extraordinary for him?

"You don't think I didn't notice you blushing outside? How nervous I made you? You don't think I would take advantage of a pretty girl like you gushing on me, huh?

His soft lips once more made contact with you, although this time exploring the sensitive crook of your nick: eagerly sucking at your tender skin.

"M-Mike we sh-shouldn't, I-I'm an off-"

"Nah-Nah, baby... You're going to be my fuck toy tonight. My little, pretty whore to keep me company. That's what you really want to be, right?"

His gentle kisses in between the suckling of your skin was bewitching enough to send your mind into an abyss. You knew this was wrong, you knew that if Vanessa found out, if your department found out, it would stain your career, or worse. And yet, your body said otherwise, disintegrating into Mike's lustful appetite.

"I-I sh-shouldn't."

*tut tut* "You know you want to, baby... Why deny it? I didn't think there were any pretty girls worth it left in this fucking hell hole... You think I'm going to pass it up?-"

With his words, Mike had swiftly lifted you momentarily, nesting himself between your spread legs as you sat atop the desk. One of his rough, calloused hands remained pinning your hips, whilst the other snaked its way smoothly beneath your uniform, firmly cupping and kneading at your breast.

"No-No... I've already put up with enough, I deserve something special. M'gonna fuck you so good, I'll have you forgetting you even were on the job."

"Y-Yes" You pathetically whimper, your hands instinctively wandering over Mike's body, itching to feel his bare skin against your palms. You manage to sneak your arms beneath his shirt, feeling the thickness of his flexing muscles beneath his moving body, as you grip at his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh.

"Look at you, princess, already so needy for me. You desperate for my cock, huh? What happened to the talking stage?" He lowly teases, a smirk spewed across his face, as you feel its curvature press against your skin, his low chuckle in harmony to your mindless whimpers and moans.

"L-Later- I-I want you now, M-Mike."

"That's my girl," His deep growls vibrating against your tender, cool skin. You hadn't even realised how swift and slick Mike was, unclasping your bra, as he began to unbutton your polo shirt, before undoing your pants. Returning the favour, with much haste and eagerness, you began to unbuckle Mike's worn out belt, as you undid his jeans.

"Easy, baby, easy- What would they think of you back at the station? The police department's little slut... My pretty, little slut."

For a few split seconds, Mike ogled at your lace panties, savouring the sight before pulling them down to expose your bare, wet cunt. Noticing how his eyes lit for the first time since meeting, an ecstasy glistened in his dark orbs, as he licked his lips with desire.

"I'm gonna have you at my beckon call from now. Spoil me with your services."

Mike pulled his body apart from yours, the heat exuding, as both your bodies felt flushed and moistened with sweat: panting as you caught your breath. Mike naturally pulled his underpants down, exposing his rigid, girthy cock: just above average length, although the sheer size was mouthwatering. His tip reddened, with a few veins protruding with anticipation.

"Look-Look at what you've done to me, Y/N..."

Without a moment to spare, as Mike once again closed the faint distance between: his throbbing cock teasingly brushed against your sensitive folds, before plunging himself in. The lightning, raw pain was exhilarating, as you felt your walls stretching beyond relief to accomodate for Mike's bulky mass. His steady pace was sloppy, as his thrusts would quicken with each pump, pummelling your body further into the desk. If you hadn't been clinging to his back dearly, nails drilling into his skin [you were certain evidence of reddened, defined marks would show] that you'd knock of a monitor or two.

"F-Fuck you feel s-so good. So tight for me, baby. Th-This was meant to be. M-Meant for me."

Endless curses and swears escaped from Mike's mouth, in sync to your moans of his name. Each time his name left your mouth, his thrust grew more vigorous, igniting something animalistic in him.

With each sloppy, hasten pace and forcible thrust, Mike had finally reached his peak, shooting his hot, thick seed inside of you, drenching your insides. Your stretched, tight walls coated now, some seed spilling through the gaps onto your inner thighs, once again was a gesture that made Mike pleased. Pleased with himself, more so.

Inevitably, this ignited the same peak, as your wetness pooled over his cock, still buried and throbbing inside of you.

"F-Fuck Y/N... Th-That was s'fucking good."

After having regained your senses and thoughts, you'd managed to clean yourself up, Mike humbly passing you a spare cloth or two from the cleaning storage. He remained by your side, intently watching you from a shy distance, interjecting just once to make certain you were okay. As you finished, he exhaustedly sat himself down on the desk chair, rubbing his palms against his thick, sprawled thighs.

"You make sure it's you visiting me from now, baby. Your sister talks too much for my liking... And she's not as pretty to look at as you."

Despite the familiar, bashful feeling Mike made you feel, as foolish as butterflies in your stomach, you felt somewhat used, and dejected.

"I-I'm not some girl you can just sleep around with Mike. I have morals, and I have a respectable job... You can't just use me like-"

"I don't want to use you, Y/N... I-I want to make you mine, the fucking is just an ugh-added bonus."

Sighing in defeat, although Mike's sly smirk was a devious looking one, his eyes however remained unchanged and stern. In the pit of your stomach, your instincts told you there was truth to his words.

Just as you were about to fathom a response, the sudden, screeching ringing sound of an outdated buzzer blared through the speaker. Mike leapt over towards the monitors, deciphering a button or two, before multiple screens lit up with the perspective of some camera in a corner. On one screen the familiar, blonde hair of your sister shot through, before her face turned towards the camera.

"Our time's up, princess. I'll see you later, okay?"

credit for dividers - @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

#mike schmidt #michael afton #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt imagines #mike schmidt fanfic #mike schmidt fanfiction #mike schmidt smut #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf imagines #fnaf imagine #michael schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x fem!reader #dark!mike schmidt

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haddonfieldwhore · 11 months

Text

promise me? - mike schmidt

mike schmidt x gn!reader

warnings: a bit of angst but i think that’s it. i don’t know fnaf lore super well so if anything is inaccurate i apologize!! i’m trying my best

word count: 750

you arrived home from work around 8pm, a little later than usual due to heavy traffic on one of the main roads. quietly dropping your keys on the table just inside the door, you turned the lock to your small apartment. it wasn’t the greatest neighborhood, but it was all you could afford, and it had everything you needed. lately, your boyfriend mike had been staying with you, and he had gotten a night job as a security guard at a kids pizza place, which meant he was asleep right now as you crept through the apartment, the cold floorboards creaking under your weight as you walked down the hallway towards the bedroom.

mikes new job had him working 12-6am, less than ideal hours to say the least, but a job was a job, and it seemed pretty easy from what he had told you; all he had to do was watch the security cameras. it would only be his third night on the job today, but you could tell the change in sleep schedule was hard on mike. placing your bag on the floor softly, and your eyes landed on mikes sleeping form, the blankets tangled around his legs as he snored softly. you smiled, and lifted his arm carefully to crawl into bed next to him. his arms encircled you automatically, and he sighed contently as you snuggled into his chest, feeling the warmth radiating off of his body.

“hey,” he grumbled softly, his voice deep with sleep. “what time is it?”

“hey,” you smiled, even though his eyes remained closed. “it’s just after eight, you still have time to sleep.” he hummed happily in response, pulling you closer to him and kissing the top of your head as he drifted off to sleep again, and you quickly followed.

•

the sound of mikes alarm woke you up, and you tried to hide your head under the covers to block out the sound, as mike reached for his phone to turn it off.

“don’t go,” you mumbled, reaching for him to attempt to pull him back into your arms. he laughed at you and sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.

“i would rather stay here, trust me.”

“is it really that bad?” you asked, sitting up as he got out of bed and began to get dressed, sliding on a pair of dark jeans and a grey hoodie. he did up the buckle of his belt as he stepped into his work boots, and he looked up at you, his tired eyes meeting yours.

“no, it’s…. it’s just - we’ll you know how they have those animatronic characters?”

“yeah,” you nodded, remembering them from when you were younger.

“they get left in this… free roaming mode at night. i don’t know it’s really weird.”

“isn’t that a little dangerous?” you asked, a worried look spreading across your face. mike seemed to think for a moment, and then sort of shook his head.

“no, i mean- they’re just robots for kids. it’s just a little creepy,” he replied, and you weren’t sure he was being 100% truthful.

“mike, if you were in danger you would tell me right?”

“of course. i didn’t mean to scare you. i think my imagination gets the better of me sometimes,” he walked over to give you a soft kiss on the lips.

“promise me if anything else weird happens you’ll quit, okay?” you pleaded. as much as you both needed the money, that wouldn’t matter if something bad happened to mike.

“i promise,” he agreed. “i gotta go. i love you.”

“i love you too.”

mike grabbed his wallet off the dresser and opened the bedroom door before turning back towards you.

“i’ll see you in a few hours. get some sleep okay?”

you nodded as you laid back down and pulled the blankets over yourself, trying to mimic the feeling of his body heat next to you. you listened to his footsteps as he walked down the hall and out the door, followed by the familiar click of it locking behind him. you sighed, closing your eyes as you tried not to worry about what he had said. you trusted him; if there was really something wrong, he would tell you.

besides, how dangerous could a children’s restaurant be, right?

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader #michael afton #fnaf fic #fnaf imagine #fnaf x reader

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pinkkittysaw · 5 months

Text

FIVE NIGHTS AT MIKE’S

pairing: mike schmidt x plus sized! female reader

summary: you spend the night at your boyfriend’s place

word count: 5,735

content: NSFW (minors + ageless blogs DNI, you will be blocked!) post canon (but still in the year 2000), established relationship, dry humping, oral (f! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), minor pussyjob, breast/nipple play, protected sex (use of condom), intimacy kink, both reader and mike have pubes

a/n: does anyone else miss blockbuster? because i do 😔 long live physical media! also i did my due diligence and calculated prices of things to my best of my ability for the year 2000 so even if my price match isn’t EXACT, it’s close. this ended up…unexpectedly softer than i thought it would. never did i think i would be stringing sentences together like this to describe mike from FNAF but alas, here we are ^_^

dividers by @/kimjiho1 & @/saradika

"See ya, rugrat," you say to the eager girl as she hugs both you and her brother at the entrance of their front door. She huffs, only slightly, when you ruffle her brunette curls, sporting a faint pout once she pulls away from your hold. You chuckle, kneeling to her height, before attempting to fix the mess you created, smoothing out the hairs that lay atop her head the best you could.

"Call us if you need anything, okay?" Mike repeats for the nth time that night since Abby started getting ready.

"Yeah, yeah." Abby dismisses her brother completely, heading toward the car parked in the driveway after she decides that her hair looks satisfactory enough.

It was a Friday night, both you and Abby had sleepover plans, her at a friend's house and you over at Mike's. Abby was so devastated when she found out that your sleepovers fell on the same day as each other—intentional planning on both your and Mike's part—that she almost bailed on her school friends. It was only when you promised to have a special girl's night with her the next time you stayed over that she eventually yielded, going through with her original plans for the weekend.

She was initially invited by one of her school friends. After Mike had sat through one of the world's most awkward conversations with Abby's friend's mom—one he made sure to recount once they arrived home—he decided that it was probably in her best interest to let her go out and socialize like this while she was still young enough to do so, despite whatever unspoken worries he had about her going off and spending the night on her own for the first time.

"Love you!" Abby yells from the rear car door before opening it and getting inside. The seats are filled with excitable little girls and one slightly apprehensive mom who smiles at you through the windshield. Though the sound is slightly muffled, Mike repeats the same words back to his sister.

He may not be the most outwardly affectionate person, but after taking even the tiniest glimpse into their lives, it's obvious that he cares. Whether that's shown through him triple-checking her pack before she leaves for the evening, giving her friend's mom a list of her safe foods so that she doesn't go hungry, or reminding her numerous times that she can always call home if she needs to because no matter how independent she's become, it's okay to still need your older brother. Although you're sure Mike would say that he's anything but a good older brother.

Abby waves to you both as the car pulls out of the lot before she turns back to her friends again. You and Mike stand waving in the entryway as it turns off onto the street, leaving an empty spot in its wake.

"She's come a long way," you comment, turning your head towards him as he continues to stare out onto the pavement.

"Yeah."

You're unable to help the way your eyes roll at his statement, though it's lighthearted in nature. "It's thanks to you, you know." You nudge him in the side with your elbow.

"I think you had a hand in it too," he chuckles, smirking as his eyes meet yours.

"Just accept the compliment, Mike." You pat his shoulder, then turn on your heels to head back indoors, with him following suit.

"So...what should we do now?"

"I got a spare ten; wanna rent a movie?" You reach down for your wallet that's tucked in your overnight bag sprawled on his couch, pulling out the ten-dollar bill and puffing it between your fingers. "Let me treat you, baby," you coo, twirling around with the money in hand.

He scoffs a little at the display but still reaches for his keys and jacket off the rack. "Let's go."

The drive to the video rental store is a short one, as most of your time is spent lip-syncing songs to Mike that play through the static of his shitty radio.

Once you arrive, you divide and concur. Since Mike got to choose the movie last time, it was your turn, leaving him in charge of the snacks. You take your time leisurely perusing through the aisles, trying to find something that looks interesting enough before making your way to the "New Releases" section. It takes a while before anything catches your eye, but as you keep wandering, a title eventually jumps out at you.

You pick up the VHS and make your way over to check it out. Mike's waiting for you at the end of the aisle, his arms filled with popcorn, soft drinks, and candy. The two of you walk side by side over to the counter, where he drops all his snacks, and you slide over the movie. He lifts the corner of the box to look at the title before the case makes its way toward the cashier.

"American Psycho?" He asks, raising a brow.

"Yeah." You hand over the cash and your ID. "A coworker of mine said it was good, plus the trailer looked...interesting." You smile. "Why? Are you scared of a little horror film?"

"In your dreams."

"Guess we'll see about that, won't we?"

After thanking the cashier and collecting your bagged items, the two of you head back to his car.

It's not long after that the two of you arrive back at Mike's place, having changed out of your day clothes into pajamas.

After feeding the tape into the VCR, you plop back onto the sofa, sinking into the cushions, popcorn in hand, and snuggling into Mike's side.

Around six minutes into the movie, you comment in between bites of popcorn. "I know this movie is rated R, but I honestly wasn't expecting to see Christain Bale's ass."

Mike doesn't say anything in return, just side-eyeing you with a simple "Uh huh."

By the time the credits roll, both of your tummies are full of salty popped kernels and sweets, the evidence of which lies on his coffee table in the form of empty bags and wrappers.

Your bodies have shifted positions since the movie started. He's lying on his back, his body spread along the length of his couch, with you on your tummy nestled on top of him. Your cheek is squished against the space between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in while his chin rests on top of your head, his fingertips drawing slow circles on the small of your back.

The sensation makes you drowsy, both due to his warmth and the methodical motions of his fingers lulling you into an almost slumber.

"So, were you scared?" You tease, breaking through the serene atmosphere.

"Hm?" He mumbles, slow blinking himself to a higher state of alertness. It seems as if he too has been lulled into falling asleep on the couch alongside you.

"Were you scared?" you reiterate.

"Definitely not."

"Yeah... it felt more like a thriller than a 'horror' movie, I guess."

Mike hums in agreement, the two of you lying in silence before he speaks up again. "We should probably get off the couch now, hm?"

You groan a little, not wanting to move from your comfy position on top of him.

"Says who?" You fold your forearms across his sternum, settling your chin on top of your hands.

"Me." He quips, "It's getting late."

You huff, maneuvering your body so you can stretch and look at the clock on his wall. "It's only ten p.m." His eyes aren't open, but they don't need to be for him to tell that you have a pout on your face.

In your best attempt to dissuade him, you settle yourself back in the crux of his neck. "The night is still young."

"Says the one who was snoring up a storm on top of me a few minutes ago," he titters, poking your sides lightly so you'll fold in on yourself. "Using me as her personal pillow."

You don't engage anymore, choosing to stay right where you are in silence. If you don't talk, then no conversation needs to be had, and you can stay where you are.

"Fine," he grumbles, effectively giving up. "We can stay like this a little longer." His fingers change positions now, moving from their persistent prodding to dragging the tips up and down your spine underneath your shirt.

"You're warm."

"You're warm...and snuggly... and safe." You plant a kiss on the exposed skin from the opening in his shirt.

"Safe? Never heard that one before." He smirks to himself amusedly.

"Don't start all that now," you tell him, looking up from your spot nestled in his neck.

"It's true," he retorts, "not sure any of my former employers would agree with you."

"First off, your previous employer was an actual madman. Secondly, I'm not one of your employers; I'm your girlfriend, and thirdly, you should know by now that I don't give a fuck about corporate."

Mike looks off to the side, not meeting your eyes. "You're not exactly a good influence on me, you know," he jokes.

"I never claimed to be." You move to lift yourself more and stroke his stubbled cheek with your finger. You sigh, "Look, I get that you haven't always been the most pacifistic person in the past, but...I mean it when I say I feel safe with you. And I know Abby is safe with you too, alright?"

He doesn't have the words to articulate the feeling that those words dredge up inside him, so he simply nods.

"Good." You lay back down on his front, staring up at him. "Wanna know one of my favorite things about you?"

You stage the question like it was a guessing game, but since he's unable to guess any good qualities about himself, all he responds with is "What?"

"Your eyes. So pretty."

The corner of his lip turns up in a smirk. This isn't the first time you complimented his eyes, and it surely wouldn't be the last. The warm, rich browns that make up his irises are sweet in color, despite him thinking they were as plain and boring as can be.

"You want to know what your eyes are telling me?"

"What?" You smile sweetly at him.

"That you're looking up at me like you want something."

"Maybe I do want something." You shuffle further up his body, settling yourself onto his lap, plush thighs surrounding his hips as you hold onto his forearms for stability.

"And what's what?"

You lean over him, slowly descending upon him, your face hovering just above his. "A kiss?" You wiggle your eyebrows up and down as if to entice him more.

"Go ahead."

"Really?"

"Could always change my mind."

"Meanie," you pout, but you meet him the rest of the way anyway, his lips melding with yours.

Trying to describe your relationship and the intimacy that came along with it was difficult. Trying to describe Mike was difficult. The closest thing that comes to mind is a skittish cat. He wasn't standoffish in the sense that he couldn't talk to anyone, but trying to get anywhere other than skimming the surface with him was a challenge, like a game of tug of war, a delicate balance of push and pull. If you charged forward too quickly, he'd retreat into a corner, baring teeth and claws.

It wasn't his fault, not necessarily. The death of his younger brother being the major catalyst as to why he kept himself so closed off. A death that he blamed on himself for the longest time.

He stayed approachable enough to get along with others on the barest of levels to not cause any problems. for the most part, and any attempts at digging in any deeper than he was willing to allow were met with resistance. If he never gets close, then he never has to lose, even if it means leading an even lonelier life down the road.

The only long-standing relationship he had left was with Abby. His final tether to humanity was the little sister whose life he was holding together with glue sticks and string.

To be honest, it was amazing that you got as close to him as you did. After his short stint at the run-down pizzeria, he asked you out, deciding that he was done trying to flee and cling to the past. It was time to start living in the present, taking care of those who needed him now while he still could.

The kiss is slow, meticulous, and intimate. A word that never used to be in Mike's vocabulary. It's warm. He's warm (and slightly squishy). The heat builds to a simmer inside your tummy.

His hands slide from your thighs to the fat of your hips, squeezing the flesh between his fingers as he pulls you closer against his pelvis, causing a slight whimper to fall from your lips. All you want to do is melt in it, sink into the heat, and slowly let it consume you.

One of your arms wraps around the back of his neck while the other hand cradles his stubbled cheek. It was strange how a man could make you feel as if your whole heart was being consumed all at once. Sickly sweet words come to a boil on your tongue, but you swallow and exchange them for something more simple and primitive. Moans fill the air of his living room, with the more primal part of you taking over.

Your hips begin to rock gently against his, your tongue prodding at his teeth. The groan that comes out of you is a plea for entrance, one which he happily grants, parting his lips and allowing you to swallow him whole.

"That's it."

The kiss becomes a clash of teeth and tongues, nipping at each other's lips while wet muscles glide against one another.

You're not exactly sure why, but kissing Mike like this, in a way that's so raw and unrefined, makes you unbearably needy, not just in the pit of your stomach but in your heart too. You've grown to like this little life you've built here, tending to the seeds of your relationship with care. It hasn't been perfect per se, but it's been yours. You love it. You love his sister. You love him and you can't decipher whether that scares you or not. Excitement and anxiety both make your heart beat to the same erratic rhythm.

He's gentle with how he holds you. Square palms and thick fingers knead the flesh of your sides before sliding down to your rear to give that a firm squeeze as well, his hands guiding your body, rocking it back and forth on his half-hard cock.

A juxtaposition: knuckles once bloody and bruised, calloused fingers with skin split around the nails holding you, caressing your body as if it were velvet. If he were a bit more needy, drunk on love, he'd swear to the heavens that you were softer.

His hands move from your ass to breast, his fingertips delicately sliding up the curves. It's not the first time he's "discovered your body," nor is it the last, but all the times you have sex, which is not often enough, it always feels as loving as the first.

Thumbs brush against the ribs that hide beneath your shirt, soft in a way that makes your heart flutter before they reach their destination, swiping against the soft, stippling peaks of your nipples, your bra having long since been removed earlier that night when you returned to his place. Palms grasp at the fat of your bosom, kneading the flesh.

The roll of your hips increases while your lips separate from his, laying forehead to forehead as you pant lightly against him, breath cascading down his features. The grip of his fingers on your side tightens as he tries to stall your movements. "Stop...stop..." he puffs into your mouth, slight perspiration building on his brow from the heat.

You pout as your hips come to a full stop, peering down at him beneath you.

"I don't want to blow all over the couch," he explains.

"What a lovely mental image you've just given me," you snort, swinging your leg over him as you try to get up, only to be stopped by his hands once more.

"I never said I had a problem with getting my bedsheets dirty, though."

His lips clash with yours as he walks you backward down the hall toward his bedroom. You stumble through the door and crash onto his bed while he flips on his bedside lamp before collapsing on top of you. Another whine escapes you as you feel his hard-on through his PJ bottoms.

"Mike," you exhale, holding onto his shoulders for support.

"I know, I know."

He repositions himself and you, by extension, so that he's lying on top of you properly. Lips move from yours to the corner of your mandible, planting quick kisses all over your skin as if trying to consume you. His facial hair tickles as it brushes against the skin of your neck, causing you to shrink up slightly while releasing a fit of small giggles.

You cling to every part of him just as he does to you, pushing up your shirt to lay claim to every inch of you. Though it's not fully removed, the material is left to rest above the swell of your breasts as he kisses his way down your sternum. He's deliberate as he moves down your body, attempting to cover as much of you in his sweetness as he can.

He takes extra care when he reaches your tummy, fingertips limber and gentle as he caresses the skin. Your eyes stay locked with his as his lips meet the curve of your stomach. Tender kisses are placed across it, showing appreciation for all of the parts of your body, not just the ones you've deemed worthy of his attention.

Sex wasn't always this "easy" between the two of you; even after dancing around each other and finally getting into a relationship, that didn't make all the vulnerability of the act any easier.

He wasn't bad at it by any means; he was just a little misguided. Although sometimes you regret having taught him as well as you have, especially now that he knows how to push all your buttons.

His palms slide up your legs, from calves to thighs, fingers nestled into the waistband of your underwear and pajama bottoms, tugging them off in one fell swoop. A singular kiss is placed at the height of each thigh before he spreads your legs, exposing your sex to the cool air of his bedroom.

Nothing is said, but he does sit there for a moment, kneeling on the bed above you. When he finally does make his descent upon you, he presses a kiss so delicate right on the pudge of your mons. Then he moves to your left inner thigh, then the right, back and forth, back and forth, scrupulous, patient, and SLOW. The point of which is to get you as wet as possible without having directly touched you yet. It's made abundantly clear when he echoes those same thoughts back to you.

His thumb runs through your slit, dipping into your entrance, enough so that he barely breeches through, collecting some of your slick on the rough pads and dragging it up to your clit, rubbing tentative circles on the bundle of nerves.

"So wet," is all he says while continuing, circular motions with even pressure.

Lucky for him and (un)lucky for you, he can go as slow as he likes tonight, taking all the time in the world to warm you up, despite all your incessant whining.

He leans back to pull off his shirt, revealing a cute tuft of brown hair in the middle of his chest.

"You can be as loud as you want."

He lays on his stomach, right in between your legs, landing a singular kiss straight to your cunt before dragging the length of his tongue from your entrance to clit, giving that a kiss as well. He repeats the action a couple more times before settling himself right on your pussy, nose nestled in the wirey hairs of your mons. The wet muscle worms its way to your pulsing hole, digging in deep to drink down every drop that leaks from you.

It's always difficult to maintain eye contact with him like this; his almond irises are blown so wide that it's as if only his pupils remain. He licks and laps at your cunt like it's the only thing he was made to do. He worships your pussy like it's his favorite thing in the world, and has to prevent himself from humping the bed while he indulges himself in your taste. Even though he knows you find it hot as fuck whenever he cums just from eating you out, he needs to feel you stretched out on his cock.

Though unspoken between the two of you, you know that if you stare at him for too long while he makes out with your cunt, you'll cum way quicker than you mean to, and you know if you cum too quickly, he'll lay there and tongue-fuck you right through your next orgasm, because as much as he eats you out for your pleasure, he eats you out for his pleasure too.

Most of the time, you don't feel like giving him a big ego, so you tilt your head back and screw your eyes shut as his lips pucker around your clit and suckles it into his mouth. Even if you don't meet his gaze, he knows the effect he has on you just by the way your fingers rake through his curls, rooting themselves in his scalp while whimpering praises into the aether.

"Mikey."

The pet name used to make him groan and roll his eyes in frustration, but when you're spread out like this underneath him, it's his most favorite sound in the world.

Your opposite hand drifts to squeeze and knead at your breast, tugging at your nipple. His hand comes up to meet yours, warm and grounding, as he begins to work at your clit even more, sucking it more vigorously than before. Your hips begin to buck against his face, the scratch of his stubble giving your inner thighs a delicious beard burn as the heat begins to reach a boiling point in your belly. His fingers squeeze down on yours against your breast while your fists tighten in his hair.

You look down at him finally, and it's as if he can sense you're watching him because his eyes immediately snap up to meet yours. You can barely make out the slick coating his face in the low lamplight.

He works overtime now that he has your full attention, dragging his hand from your breast to your tummy, giving it a gentle squeeze before bracing his forearm across it, allowing for leverage as he sinks one, then two fingers into your cunt. He's quick but not rough with his movements inside you, curling in just the right spot to make you see stars.

Though your hips are restricted by him, you hurdle toward your impending orgasm. You reach down to meet his hand, and he happily clasps his fingers with yours, breaking eye contact with him when the coil finally snaps. Your back arches while your hand tightens around his, nails digging into the skin of his scalp, moans dribbling from your mouth with every passing second.

He eases you down from your high, kissing his way up your body before pulling off your shift completely and meeting his lips with yours, giving you a taste of yourself. You moan into the kiss, clinging onto him for dear life as you begin to wind down. He knows you're all set when your touch goes from frantic grabbing to gentle caressing.

He looks down at you; your expression is happy and a smidgen dopey, but nowhere near fucked out yet.

"Think you can handle some more?"

"Your tongue game isn't that good."

He scoffs. "Still coherent enough to give me lip, I'd say you're good."

He sits up, reaching toward his nightstand drawer, fishing out a box from inside.

"Oh, a new box of condoms..." You rise to your knees. slinging your arms around Mike from behind, your tits pressed up against his back. "Were you expecting to get laid tonight, Michael?" you tease, slowly kissing his neck.

"You say that as if it wasn't your idea to spend the night when Abby had her sleepover." He fiddles with opening the box, tearing off a single condom from the rest.

"If I recall, you weren't opposing the idea either," you goad, trailing your lips onto his freckled shoulder. "It's good that we're being responsible; now come here. I want more kisses." You take the condom from between his fingers and place it back on his nightstand along with the box as you urge him back down on top of you.

He obliges, his lips meeting yours as you trail all over each other's bodies. His hard cock lays in between your thighs, aching and throbbing with need, so you decide to grant him a little relief. You slide your hand into his boxers and slowly stroke his cock. His breath hitches slightly, bringing amusement to your face as your lips brush against his.

"So hard for me already, poor thing." You nuzzle into his face a little, sliding your nose against his as you lick into his mouth, silently asking for his tongue once again. He gives as much as he can, panting into your kiss.

After just a few minutes of lazily jerking him off, you slide his pants lower on his thighs, bracing his cock right in between your slit and slowly start to rock your hips back and forth. The kiss becomes lazy, just tongues caressing each other while moans echo throughout the room, every vein from his cock brushing up against your clit as the two of you rock together. The heat and slick making both of you quiver.

You release him on the brink of going too far, choosing to then reach over for the singular packet, the shiny foil catching in the light.

"Can you manage to put this on, or do I need to do it?" you jest.

"I got it." He sits himself on the edge of the bed, plucking the condom from your grasp. You hear the sound of the package tearing, and soon after his bottoms are gone too, both of you nude together.

"So, how you wanna do this?" he asks while rolling on the latex.

"Wanna be in your lap."

"Are you sure your legs can handle that?" he chuckles, caressing your thigh.

"My legs aren't made of jello," you retort, getting up on your knees while he scoots backward.

"Alright, but no complaining if you get tired."

You crawl over toward him, and he reaches out for you, taking hold of your hips as you swing one leg over both of his.

"Hi," you say as you're face to face with him, one arm slung lazily over his shoulder, grazing his back, the other resting against his cheek as your finger strokes his cheek.

"Hey," he chirps back.

You give him a quick kiss, moving your hand from his face to his cock, feeding him through your entrance, and sinking down on him slowly, the two of you groaning into each other's mouths. Your tummy folds in on itself as you reach the base.

You're not sure if you'll ever get used to the intimacy of it all. No matter how many times you go through this, you wonder if the feeling of overwhelming consumption will subside. If one day, it won't feel like Mike is looking right into your soul every time you have sex.

You whimper slightly as you settle, his girth stretching you out deliciously. You cup his face as your lips search for his again. His hand moves to caress you, one hand gliding down your spine and the other grabbing the fatty flesh at the bend of your hip joint. They never stay in place, though, always on the move, making sure no part of your body is left undesired.

You roll your hips for the most part, bouncing only every so often when you want to feel the stretch of being filled again, mostly wanting to enjoy the feeling of being so close together, so connected. Taking simple pleasures in the feeling of him just being inside you. The hairs that spackle the base of his cock work to add pleasure to your clit.

He kisses his way down your neck, smiling against your skin as he does it, taking in deep breaths of your scent while his hands continue their caress to your breasts, making sure to show them the attention that he neglected while he was eating you out.

His lips move toward your nipple, kissing it before letting his tongue lull out of his mouth, flicking it back and forth.

"Mmm...Mike." Your cunt clenches around him at his efforts, your fingers curling into the hair that sits at the nape of his neck.

His opposite hand slides to your front, rubbing up and down along the curves of your body til it settles on the other breast, rolling the nipple between his digits. His tongue traces around your areola before sucking the nipple into his mouth.

"Christ, Mike," you whine as he locks eyes with you, the movement of your hips quickening with every suck.

This is the only time you get so whiny, when the two of you are in a position like this, so enraptured with each other, in each other's pleasure. You become so sweet and pliant.

He detaches himself from your nipple and eases you onto your back, grabbing the fat of your thighs and pushing them toward your chest so he can fuck you like you need, like you both need. You're not sure if Mike will ever admit to this, but he needs the intimacy as much as you do.

He's deliberate when he sinks back into you, grinding when he reaches the hilt.

When he pulls out, he develops a slow rhythm, one you can both enjoy with its progression. Despite its calm nature, every thrust of his heavy cock ruts into exactly where you need it, rubbing against the spongey spot inside you that makes your toes curl, that lights a fire in your belly and makes you needy once again.

As the moment continues to build, on the precipice of climax, he speaks to you through the haze of pleasure.

"Still need me to kiss you to cum?" He taunts. He knows the answer. It's been the same ever since the two of you got together. The intimacy between the two of you gets you off more than anything else.

You pull him down til he's practically on top of you, his body weight against yours, your tummy folding up so nicely as you lay nose to nose. His scent and his skin on yours grounds you like nothing else. You don't even mind the stretch of your thighs as he holds himself against you.

"Don't act like you don't need this too." You extend your neck in an attempt to push your lips forward on his. "You enjoy intimacy more than your grumpy face lets on." Your eyes are just barely glazed over, the same dopey grin plastered on your face as you reach out to him.

"Shut it," he huffs, pressing his lips into yours for a searing kiss, fucking into you with as much vigor as he can muster. The springs of his mattress squeak wildly as he fucks you through it.

As much as he tries to deflect, he knows it's the truth too. He needs the closeness as well. The intimacy, the skin-to-skin contact, the sweat, the heat, the love

You mewl into the kiss, wrapping your arms around him tightly. Your orgasm sits just beyond the horizon, your cunt clenching down on him harder and harder with every sloppy smack of his lips against yours. The need and desperation grow as your bodies cling together, never wanting to part, edging closer and closer to ecstasy.

You glide your hand down to your clit, rubbing in tight circles as your orgasm crests, taking over your body and moaning into his mouth loudly as you pull him down even further. You're reduced to nothing but babbles and whimpers as he fucks you through your orgasm.

You feel the same words as before bubble up on your tongue. He's here, his body encapsulating yours as close as humanly possible; he's so warm, so safe. He's here, he's yours, and you love him.

You let the words escape you this time, refusing to let them fizzle out into nothingness.

"I love you, Mike," you whisper in his ear.

It's not more than a few seconds later that he's spilling into the condom, his hips still sloppily thrusting and letting out an unexpectedly loud groan while clinging to you.

The air settles, and Mike is still nestled inside you. Your fingers comb through his hair as he brushes along your side, leaving a kiss on your skin every so often, enjoying the afterglow of sex.

You're the first to break through the silence.

"Shower now or in the morning?"

"Morning," he groans, somewhat groggy after everything that went down. He pulls out, getting up to remove the condom and tie it off, tossing it in the waste basket under his nightstand, making a mental note to dispose of it properly later.

"I'm gonna go pee, then we'll snuggle up for the night," you tell him as you head toward the bathroom before he has a chance to trap you in bed with sleepy cuddles.

"Don't fall in," he smirks, feeling proud of himself, and you grin at him for being an idiot.

As you go to wash your hands after finishing up, you hear a muffled. "I love you too" through the bathroom door.

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x you #five nights at freddy’s x reader #five nights at freddy’s imagine #five nights at freddy’s smut #fnaf x reader #fnaf smut #fnaf imagine #x reader smut #chubby reader #✰ミ angel writes

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mo0nfairy · 5 months

Text

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ A HOUSE IN NEBRASKA !

summary :: mike schmidt did not realize the weight of his mistake before it was too late. when he had first met you, his baby sister's beloved teacher, he couldn't imagine ever leaving you. with his aunt's demands to see her niece, however, he had no choice. now, a year later and two states over, everyday is spent suffocating on misery and memories. mike does not know how much more of this he can endure before he breaks.

word count :: 9.2k.

content warnings :: obsessive!mike, yandere!mike, fnaf movie spoilers, drugging, kidnapping, violence, stalking, & insinuations of s3x.

mike schmidt's yandere traits are . . .

obsessive, paranoid, & nervous

──── Everything is hazy.

Fuzzy. Blurry. Serenity in its sheerest form. The absolute definition of tranquility.

That April morning in Nebraska. The scent of sugar and crayons, the sounds of children playing outside, the scattered toys left on rainbow carpets. You're sat at the desk in your classroom. Warm light bleeding through the window behind you, framing you with flowering leaves and sunshine.

Across the room, Abby Schmidt sits on the floor. Her small fingers tap the glass enclosure where the class pet is. Mr. Cupcake, your iguana. Or, as you like to refer to him, your teaching assistant. His claws plunge into his food dish, copper-colored eyes scrutinizing his surroundings. Abby watches as the reptile chows on the fruit and foliage left for breakfast.

Sitting in the chair opposite your desk is Mike Schmidt. Sweat beads on his forehead, ineluctably distressed beneath your gaze. The suit he wore for this occasion juts uncomfortably into his skin. His fingers fidget with the trim of his tie. He looks at the woven basket of exotic butters sitting on your desk, wondering why he had gotten you such an aimless gift.

Mike is quiet, as usual. Austere, his permanent disposition. Despite his tireless efforts to express his thoughts to you, the words remain nestled in his throat. Conjuring any syllable in your presence is impossible.

You, however, do not have any wavering confidence. You reiterate the legal documents obligatory for Abby's complete transition to a new school. Noting how all necessities are now in your possession (albeit languidly, as Mike has been painfully trying to buy more time here), the relocation was complete. The obvious insinuation of your words, however, brings crippling dread like no other.

The last time you would ever see one another. Your goodbye.

Standing to your feet, you make your way to Abby and bend down beside her. You will miss your star student, as you have a soft spot for all the children in your classroom. In the process, you do not take notice of the way Mike instinctively reaches out to you. He's sure your touch would kill him, but it does not stop him from wishing for it. Even just a sliver of the precious rarity.

"I think Mr. Cupcake is going to miss you." Abby looks at you with wide, curious eyes.

"Don't tell the others, but you're definitely his favorite." That earns you a smile before she averts her attention back to the iguana.

When you stand, you find Mike breathing down your neck. Horrifically, as this memory still haunts him, he thought it'd be a good idea to hug you. And he practically throws his entire body weight on top of you. When you reject him by placing your hand on his chest, offering a handshake instead, fire spreads with your touch. Knowing he will never know what it feels like to hold you close to him is more excruciating than he is willing to admit.

Abby skips out of the classroom, an adorable pep in her step. At the same time, every step Mike takes from you feels like walking through an avalanche. Dragging him backward, begging to return to you. Almost as if it were his instinct, his body is trying to reject his advances of leaving you.

"Why do you always look at them like that? Like... Like they're a dinosaur or something?"

Abby's question causes Mike's brows to furrow. His feelings for you were certainly discernible. Even his young sister had taken notice of the odd behavior. Had he made it that obvious? He answers her with a weak, affirmative grunt. Too emotionally fatigued to find words to speak.

A sudden flare of biliousness deluges through his body. The hallway walls adorned with children's paintings have morphed into a colorful blur of vertigo. The floors disturbingly stretch in size, making the journey away from you all the more torturous. The suit he had tried to wear confidently sticks to his hot skin. Nausea squirms in his stomach like a dying cockroach. The room begins to spin, lights sway in his vision, and his knees fight for balance.

Mike hears his sister shriek his name before he falls to the ground.

One year later, Mike wakes from this same dream, once again.

Every night of this past year, he has dreamt the same thing. Your final goodbye and the sheer impact it took on him. It is a gut-wrenching memory, but he welcomes the echo of you with open arms. To feel your hand on his chest, see your eyes looking into his. This yearning heartache is the only thing keeping him alive.

For the umpteenth time, Mike faces the harsh, violent reality of his current life. Now, he is somewhere in Utah. Praying straight to God he'll somehow wake up back in Nebraska. Where he could see you again, where he could be happy again.

Tearing the headphones of his Walkman off, the song he had played on repeat comes to an end. He rubs his sleepy eyes. With newfound clarity, Mike shifts his gaze upwards. Taped to the ceiling is a drawing Abby drew. It's of you and him beneath a flowery altar, Mr. Cupcake as your marriage officiant. The picture aids him in his efforts to feel closer to you.

Mike doesn't even know how he survived seeing the drawing for the first time. Someone else validating his feelings for you and the realness of your nonexistent relationship was too much for him to handle. Even if it is a child doing so through a frivolous drawing.

When Mike shuffles over to place his Walkman on the bedside table, he skims over the assortment of clutter left there. Several bottles of sleeping medication had been indolently thrown onto the surface. The pills help his dreams feel more real, as though he were at your side once again.

A glance over, Mike's heart wrenches at the sight of the picture frame. Beside the mess of pills is a photograph of you he had torn from Abby's yearbook. As if you were watching over him while he slept, reaching out to him in the presence of his dreams. It's a comforting thought of his, to imagine you watching over him. Like his personal guardian angel.

Surely, he would prefer to have you physically with him, instead of just relying on these fantasies to hold him over. His stomach flutters at the mere idea of you being in his bed with him. Mike feels empty without your warm weight beside him.

Laying against his chest, huddling up to him for an early-morning cuddle before the day starts. He would ensnare his blanket around your still-sleeping form. He'd press ardent kisses to the top of your head and inhale the aromatic scent of your signature soap. Massaging his hands across your back. Caressing the balmy flesh of your body. It is the physical manifestation of nirvana brought directly into his palms.

Mike shakes the thoughts out as quickly as they come. So cheesy... What on Earth is he doing?

Although he has tossed around the idea of giving in and leaving Abby in their aunt's care, what kind of man would you think him as if he abandoned his family? And if he were to take Abby back to Nebraska, Social Services would surely hunt him down. The mere idea of being locked behind a prison cell is terrifying, but the prospect of never seeing you again provokes terror like no other.

Mike's head pounds as these thoughts haunt him. Reveries of brighter days in your presence, trepidation of being separate from you forever — this is how every morning usually begins. His dreams nestled in a nightmare. The chaos in his head brings him to where this story had begun altogether.

February. Two months before the last time he would ever see you.

Jane had demanded Abby live with her in Utah, threatening legal action in the process. Mike had no other choice but to succumb to her orders. It had begun as a minor inconvenience, considering his life in Nebraska was futile to begin with. However, it would soon become the worst decision he has ever made. He knows he should have fought harder, but Mike hadn't met you until after he verified their relocation. It wasn't until he had stepped foot into your classroom for the very first time had he realized the weight of his mistake.

With the start of his shift at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza approaching, he struggled to bring these rampant thoughts to rest. Resentfully, Mike rises from his bed. The sun has begun to set and his unsatisfactory power nap has come to an end. He trudges over to the foot of his bed and begins his usual set of push-ups. Triggering adrenaline through his body is essential to his daily routine. It helps ease his brain from all the chaos. An area he is in dire need of assistance.

For a moment, his thoughts are blank. It is such an oddity, that Mike is left stunned. Having a silent mind is a privilege that is unknown to him.

And just when he thought he had found coherence, the memory of you comes sprinting at him from the shadows. Mere seconds of emptiness pass before thoughts of you invade his mind.

A week after your final goodbye.

His disposition has suffered from a harsh descent since then. Mike is now irritable and aggressive to anyone who even faintly nudges his buttons. Snapping like a feral dog. Rough like a calloused hand.

Acknowledging weakness has never been his strong suit, but Mike is not a fool when it comes to how he feels around you. The overwhelming nerves stirred together with unwavering devotion make for a sugary-sweet, poisonous concoction. Something he could get drunk off for years to come.

Although his mind is stained in consideration, he cannot storm through the school doors and take you with him to Utah. Merely standing in your presence is enough to make him stop breathing. Contriving an abduction, one that includes you, no less, would fail miserably. And as he stated before, the prospect of being stuck behind bars and never seeing you again provokes terror like no other.

So, he gives in. He resentfully gives in to what his Aunt Jane wants and goes about his life.

There was only two more weeks before he'd leave his job as security at the mall forever. Mike meanders through the large expanse, actively averting his gaze from all the happy couples. Hands held together, eyes brimming with adoration, feeding each other ice cream. It never fails to make him bitter, which he prefers to assume it is because of how sappy the sight is.

He wonders what flavor of ice cream is your favorite, the look in your eye as he feeds you a spoonful. What kind of sweet words you'd give him and the way you'd blush when he drowns you in adoration. Within the safety of his mind, he has molded himself into the man of your dreams. You will just have to look past all the sweat and nerves to find him.

A flicker of movement captures his attention. Something strangely familiar in his peripheral. When he turns, his breath gets caught in his chest.

His wide eyes stare at you. Standing alone across the mall.

All Mike can do is gawk. Like a newly-born fawn, staring goggle-eyed and weak-kneed as he takes in the sight of the world for the very first time. A gasp of your name parts from his lips. He sways in his stance like a boat on the sea, his body melts like snow beneath the sunlight. Stood still in place, he feels that familiar sense of light-headedness return. He embraces the dizziness as a comfort, this time around.

Mike could almost laugh at this. At the same time, he could cry his heart out.

Of course, your roads would intersect. Of course, you would find each other in the end. Even when he had fully accepted he would never see you again, you return to him. Like a cloud of happier days, here to hide the torment for all.

And then, he's interrupted.

Walking uninvited into the scene is a stranger. A man approaches you, daring to drape his arm around your shoulder. Mike's eye twitches as he watches. The stranger then plants a kiss on your cheek, something Mike has wished to do since the first time he stepped foot in your classroom. With this man's hands all over you, the two of you begin to walk away.

The word "heartbroken" was something Mike had never felt before. It was something he never understood. He only heard of the word through brainless movies, where he swore he'd never let himself fall apart like the dumb characters do. At this moment, however, that term is stamped all over him in thick ink. A vivid exhibition of all the good and bad you have done to him.

Without another thought, Mike takes a step. Then another. Before he is breaking into a full sprint toward the love of his life and the parasite latched onto them. It's as if a puppeteer was controlling him, grasping hold of his spine and snatching a fistful of nerves. He shoves past any shoppers in his way, a few losing balance and falling to the floor. His speed accelerates with every hastening step, growing closer and closer.

The stranger looks over his shoulder a second too late before he is tackled. The two fall into an adjacent fountain with a loud clamor. Mike's fist clenches, before it surges down into his face. Then, he does it again and again and again.

Again. Again. Again.

And again.

Grunting like an animal, Mike can't stop himself.

Fuck you. Fuck you.

Fuck you.

Don't you ever fucking touch them.

It is blinding, how enraged he is. In a mess of blood and water. The mere thought of someone laying a finger on you boils red-hot rage like he has never felt before.

Someone ensnares their arms around him and drags him away from the mess he created. When the splashing water eases down to calm ripples, he finally looks over to you to ensure your safety and- who is that? A different person is standing there, utter horror plastered on their face as they watch the scene play out.

They have the same height, the same clothes, almost the same everything. But, now that Mike is able to scrutinize who he thought to be you, he realizes he was completely wrong. He had only formed a desperate personification of you from memory. What has he done?

The dread is soul-crushing as the weight of his mistake crushes him. Other bystanders watch in shock. Mike's fists are bruised red, his clothes are wet and stained with blood. What on Earth was he thinking!? All he ever wanted was to protect you! To protect you from men like that!

Mike's vision doubles and his body shivers. All he ever wanted was to protect you. The only thing he can think about is you and the sheer devastation you have rained down into his life.

This memory playing through his head is abruptly cut short. Mike is then forcefully shoved back into reality when his hand slips during his set of push-ups. He falls face-first into the carpet, grumbling from the harsh contact.

It is a vile memory to have, as it is the reason he lost his job at the mall and truly eradicated any chance of staying in Nebraska. However, it showed him how irrevocably devoted he is to you. How the feelings he has for you are completely and utterly real. Someone like him, who prides himself in being aloof and controlled, was capable of causing such calamity. All for your safety.

It was a terrifying revelation, but it soothed him in a way he had never felt before.

Michael Schmidt needs you.

And unfortunately, his feelings are not powerful enough to stretch into physical reality. Even though it feels as though they are capable of doing so, they cannot mold the world to bring him back to you. They cannot protect him from the inevitability of leaving his home and being dragged to Utah.

Now, he stands at the entrance of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Ivy grows amongst the bricked walls. Bright paint fades from years of neglect. Mike breathes in the scent of midnight brume as he unlocks the doors, trying once more to rid his brain of the thought of you.

The flashlight in his hands illuminates the inside of the pizzeria. Specks of dust permeate the air. Flashy arcade games are riddled with age. Toys on the prize shelf are covered in a blanket of cobwebs. The once gaudy carpets are caked with dirt. And those God-awful animatronics still stand on that rickety stage. Mike takes note of all these little things with a sigh. If this place was still alive today, he knows you'd adore taking your students here.

As his nights have been spent for the last year, he walks through the dilapidated establishment as usual. On the desk is a stack of chunky monitors displaying several angles of the pizzeria. The "CELEBRATE!" poster on the wall mocks him. He plops down on the adjacent swivel chair. The old fabric peels and the wheels whine from his weight.

Unzipping his ragged backpack, he grasps hold of the book he had taken with him, Dream Theory. Adjusting the headphones of his Walkman on his head, Mike then flicks the dog-ear over and resumes his reading.

God only knows how many times he has read this damned book. And every time he rereads it, he prays he can somehow find an anecdote for this torment. A magic step-by-step guide that will bring him back to you.

Despite perusing this book from front to back, he still searches for more. He hates being awake. He'd much rather be asleep, where he can return to you. Any second not spent with you, even if the moment is not tangible, is a second gone to waste. No matter what the circumstances are, he could only ever wish to be with you.

Lethargy hits Mike like a slap across the face. The book in his hands is now reminiscent of a brick. The song that plays on repeat in his Walkman soothes him like a mother's lullaby. All of these sensations embrace Mike; they pacify his brain and body of any unease. And with a few more leveled breaths, Dream Theory falls from his hands and he drifts off.

With a beat, he's woken up with a sharp gasp. This time, however, he does not awaken in the same dingy pizzeria. He finds himself sitting at a picnic table. Located in the very same forest he had lost his brother years ago.

Looking down, Mike finds he is dressed in the same hunter-green sweater and jeans stained with grass. His eyes scan around the expanse, searching for the faces of his family. He cannot find his mother, his father, nor Garrett. No one. Everything is to no avail.

There's a shuffle from behind him. He looks, only to find swaying trees and fluttering birds. And then, a voice.

"I'm sad to see you both go." The familiar cadence has Mike's head snapping back forward. He is struck with desperation.

There you are, sat across from him at the picnic table.

If it weren't for the campgrounds you were both at, this moment would be identical to when he first met you. In that same classroom, on that same day. Every mannerism and timbre of your voice is a picture-perfect copy of that moment. Same look in your eye, wearing the same clothes and bead bracelets your students made for you. Same everything.

It is a precious memory. To sit here with you feels so real, as though the heavens had answered Mike's prayers and brought him back to you.

"Abigail has always been a stellar student. I have no doubt she'll flourish in her new school."

Your smile makes his heart sink. Everyone always looks at him with anger. Not you, though. You're different.

"She does have a tendency to keep to herself. But, I think she'll adapt well to the new environment." He remembers every word from your mouth.

The emotions he was struck with when he first met you come back in a near-fatal rush. Irrepressible tension and rapture plunge through the barrier of his flesh. Practically a duplicate of the exact memory.

Going to a standard school meeting for his sister was an event Mike intended to do briefly. Getting it over as quickly as possible is his standard approach to most if not all, aspects of his life. This day, however, he was thrown in a whirlpool when he found himself wishing to stay with you. Leaving you felt like something he could not bear to endure.

Mike is abnormally pale, drenched in sweat, and mere seconds from passing out. You place your hand on his arm, inquiring him about if he was feeling alright. Hook, line, and sinker. Your mere touch sent him charging away from any perceived sanity he once possessed.

The strictly platonic concern you had for his well-being is addicting. To a point where Mike abandons all morals to indulge in these newfound feelings you give him. Once a poised man has now been reduced to a gooey puddle of sheer fervor.

All he can do is nod in response, completely entranced by the sight before him. You take his assurance hesitantly, before reaching into a basket of children's toys beside your desk. As this memory usually plays out, you retrieve a bear plushie. You then tell him of how it is Abby's favorite to play with and how you wish to gift it to her before your final goodbye. He agrees, of course. Nodding once more to compensate for his inability to speak.

In these woods, however, you show him that orange toy plane his brother treasured. His gaze remains latched to you as stand from the picnic table and walk away. To his utmost surprise, you then bend down beside Garrett. When you present him with the plane, he accepts your gift with childlike elation. He is quick to abandon his recent endeavors in favor of playing with his new toy.

You stand on foot, watching with an adoring smile as the young boy takes off. Mike watches you. An emotional, muddled intensity in his eyes.

"This isn't... This isn't how it happened... This isn't real." In his state of confusion, Mike has found the ability to speak.

He captures your attention and your gaze reverts to him. In response, his mouth goes dry and all coherent thought vanishes. Just one look from you and his entire capacity to speak is robbed, once again.

"But, it could be... It's what you want, isn't it?"

You are correct. You have always been veracious and that attitude does not fail now.

So despairingly, Mike wants this with you. To raise Abby and Garrett together, he can only imagine the wonderful people they'd become under your care. Maybe you and him could even bring a few more beautiful lives into this world. He can only imagine how exultant his own life would become if this dream turned into reality.

The rest of his life would be spent with you in Nebraska, just like this. Mornings and nights spent together at the dining table, all delicious laughter and nourishing meals. He'll even let you bring that lizard, too!

Playing frivolous games in the backyard until the sun sets, dressing in ridiculous costumes to take the kids trick-or-treating, and helping them blow out the candles for every birthday cake. Hell, he'll endure the sweltering temperatures and screaming kids at Disneyland. Only if you're there with him.

And maybe after the bedtime stories and last tuck-ins goodnight, you and him can occupy yourselves with other activities. Mike is no stranger to these kinds of fantasies, after all.

You wouldn't fail Abby and Garrett. Not like he did. You could all be a family. Exactly like he has always wanted.

For a moment, Mike had forgotten how his life had inevitably turned out. He was so warped in the domestic bliss he could have with you, that he didn't anticipate how the next chapter of his life would manifest in this dream.

You are tackled to the ground. You fight, you kick, you scream — you do everything in your strength to get the man off of you. The very same man who took Garrett all those years ago.

Not a picosecond passes before Mike picks himself up, rushing to your safety. He intends to beat the man to a bloody pulp. His sole purpose on Earth is to protect you and ensure your safety, after all. In his efforts, his foot gets caught against the legs of the picnic table, sending him to the dirt floor. Mike is quick to scramble to his feet. His heart races a mile a minute; his eyes are blown wide in crazed worry.

When he stands, he finds that somehow within the few seconds spent on the ground, you had been shoved into the back of a car. You bang your fists against the rear window, pleading for him to rescue you. And that, Mike desperately tries to do.

He sprints after you in a blind, blurred panic. The sudden, swift movement of his body is painful, as though needles poke and prod at his skin. It is all he can see, hear, feel, think of. Losing you and the gut-wrenching devastation that would inevitably follow.

The car begins to accelerate faster and faster. His running pace gets slower with every step forward. Mike tries, God, he fucking tries, but you slip away from him like sand between his fingers. Just the same as it was when he lost his brother.

With his speed receding, his body loses all mobility and he cannot bear to run anymore. The harsh punt of his body falling to the ground pulls a grunt out of his throat. Mike whispers mantras of "I'm sorry," hoping that you can somehow hear his pleas. He prays that by some miracle, the man who took you will have a change of heart and bring you back. Sobs plunge through his chest. The misery seeps in like water leaking through a weak dam.

Consciousness comes back to him all too suddenly. A loud yell of your name erupts from him and echoes through the security room. Mike plummets from his desk chair and splats against the ground. His mind is still plagued by that scene, he is still racing to save your life.

Cold sweat drips from his head. His hands shake with a terrified tremor. He hyperventilates, as though he had escaped the depths of the ocean and were inhaling fresh air for the first time. Mike weakly props himself up against the desk, trying to calm himself.

An entire year of agony. Over 365 days of absolute Hell. Living without you has tortured him in ways he never thought was possible.

Sitting here on the filthy floor of this old pizzeria, Mike finally waves his white flag. He has given up. He cannot do this anymore. It is more than he can handle.

And without so much as another breath, Mike springs into action.

Max is surprised to see him back home so early. Flustered and ridden with sweat, Mike explains how there is an emergency at work and he needs her to watch Abby longer. She obliges and accepts the hefty pay he shoves into her hands. He is driving away before she can process what has just occurred.

The song he plays every night in his Walkman blares from the car radio. Your song. The idea brings him ephemeral ease. A dash of excitement.

This is what his life is supposed to be and if all goes well, it's what it will be in mere hours. Mike's foot slams harder against the gas, doing what he should have done long ago.

All he has to do is explain himself. Surely, you will listen and understand this is for the better. You will see through all his stuttered words and irrepressible nerves. You will taste the sickeningly sweet devotion dripping from his mushy, candied heart. Surely, you will understand this is all for you. And of course, you will love him, too.

Hours pass like gusts of wind. The welcome sign of Nebraska passes in a flash. Mike remembers the route like the back of his hand. He'd never forget the roads that lead back to you, after all.

Dawn is moments from rising. The sky is a dark blue, covered in blotches of dark, orange sunshine. Mike pulls into the parking lot of your school where only one car is present. Yours. And of course, he parks directly beside you. The prospect of being close to you, even with something as negligible as this, sends a hot shiver coursing through his body.

Mike tries to soothe himself as he lets out a shaky breath. A heavy trepidation is nestled in his stomach, still mixed with that crisp excitement. Sweat cascades down his face. His dark, curly hair sticks to his forehead. Nothing can stop these feelings. He may try, but his scattered heartstrings stubbornly remain ensnared around his throat.

When he stands, he has to latch onto the roof of his car to catch his balance. Any passerby would think he was drunk. Being at an elementary school would certainly not help his case, either. Fortunately, the only people here are you and him. No one else. Just the way it is supposed to be.

The path leading to you is familiar. The trees blossoming, the chalk drawings on the sidewalk, and the scent of the early-morning breeze. It reminds Mike even more of how much he missed you.

His wet palms grasp the handles of the front entrance. He pulls, only for the door to remain locked in place. A few more desperate tugs and he watches as his ploy peels apart from the seams. The consideration of breaking down the door is only present momentarily, before any and all function of his is cut short.

The door is unlocked and opened. Stood at the threshold is you.

And with more intensity than Mike had anticipated, the euphoria only you are capable of conjuring comes rushing back.

"Good morning!" is all you say. Your expression is cheerful. Kind. Gorgeous, as you always are. Exactly the way he remembered.

Now that you are finally here, Mike cannot fathom how he had survived so long without you. The pieces of you sprinkled throughout his life are brought to revelation. Your name carved into his bones, your warmth threaded through his veins, your breath stirred with his every word. It is as terrifying as it is exhilarating. The fact he had not collapsed upon making mere eye contact with you is a miracle in of itself.

"Oh! Are you the new security guard? I wasn't aware we were getting a new hire." You break the silence, referring to the yellow "SECURITY" stamped on his vest.

You...

You don't remember me?

The words don't manage to escape him. Instead, you send him into a state of stupor.

The impact your words have on him is nothing short of surreal. When Mike had memorized every sliver of you down to the tilt of your jaw and the curve of your spine, you had forgotten him entirely. For the year he spent longing for you, he was merely a bystander in the background. An apparition within your mind. You do not remember him. And no words in the English language could express the lethal heartbreak.

It has rendered Mike speechless and his inability to speak fills you with unease.

"Please, come in." Opening the door further, you try and usher him inside. All you wish to do is escape this conversation and the fervid eyes of this stranger.

Gaze still glued to you, he grasps hold of the door handles. His unconscious brain still decides to take the weight off of you. Mike has no choice now, he must convince you to stay with him. To beg you to choose him, to remind you of everything you once had with each other. To show you what losing you has done to him.

When you turn and walk away, he tries to find his voice. Mike wants to express all of this to you, but his efforts are futile. He is frozen and can only watch as you leave him again. The opposite direction of your classroom, this time. Towards the office. Most likely to ensure he was actually in the system.

Mike does not take this choice of yours for granted. Gathering up whatever morsel of strength is still left in him, he takes a few wobbly steps. He stumbles through the dark hallways, clutching his hand over his heart as he walks. His rampant heartbeat does not calm itself, no matter his attempts to soothe it.

Upon practically collapsing into your classroom, a flare of fleeting ease envelops Mike. To be surrounded by you is absolute ecstasy. Paradise is personified through flamboyant decorations and the scent of strawberries and books.

He scans every detail of your classroom. The new drawings on the wall, the jumble of recently purchased toys. He sees the new changes you have made in the past year and is shattered to know you were not thinking of him at all. As opposed to every second of his life being enmeshed with you.

Mike soon finds your desk. The first and last place he had ever truly felt happiness. On the surface, some of your clutter had been left behind. Too cute. A colorful planner had been left open to this exact date. A few papers are sat to the side, where students' assessments are in the process of being graded. Most important of all, your thermal scattered with stickers sits on a pained coaster.

Mike knows he should not consider it, no less think about it. You just need to be reminded, that's all.

With a paranoid glance at the door, he takes the orange bottle of sleeping pills from his backpack. He swiftly pours out several onto the desk. Then, he takes a stapler you had left out of reach from children's sticky fingers, crushing the thin white circles into a chunky powder. Your thermal opens with a quiet pop! and Mike pours the residue into your drink. He uses the straw to stir it around for effective measure, trying to ignore the incessant urge to take your straw for... personal use.

A storage closet resides right behind him. Mike leaves everything on your desk as it once was and is swift to hide inside. He leaves the door open a mere creak, within perfect distance to watch his plan unfold.

The minute without you feels torturous, as though it had lasted a millennia. When the aching sound of silence is filled by a creaking door, his heart practically plummets. Through the small peep, you enter his field of vision. You trot over to the iguana enclosure. Saying a quick hello to Mr. Cupcake, before making your way to your desk. Oblivious to the uninvited guest just inches away.

You take a sip from your thermal. Mike cannot find air to breathe or the ability to function.

You take another. This is actually happening.

One more sip. Your pen scribbles on your planner.

You take a sip. It is a blessing straight from God you cannot hear the hyperventilated breaths behind you.

Then, another sip. Holy shit, this is actually happening.

As you work, you reach over to grab some sticky notes. Your elbow accidentally nudges your pen, causing it to fall from your desk and roll across the floor. You stand to retrieve it with a grumble before a sudden wave of lethargy envelops you. It is all too sudden and acute. You have to lean on the edge of your desk to stable yourself.

Before you can question the sudden fatigue, your body fails you. When you inevitably fall, Mike is quick to catch you. Hell, his arms were around you before your legs even wobbled. Slowly, and with loving attentiveness, he guides your limp body to the ground. The adrenaline inside him is so penetrating, that he does not have a moment to process the fact he is touching you.

With you fully unconscious, Mike knows exactly where he'll be heading next. Only now, he'll have an additional passenger with him.

He secures your unconscious form into the back seat of his car. Fastening your seatbelt and triple-checking they are in proper function. Mr. Cookie, or whatever his name is, is in the front seat within his cage. Moving his enclosure and necessities from your classroom was a hassle, as told by the bite mark on Mike's hand. For you, though, he would endure far worse.

With the birds beginning to sing, there is little time before the world wakes up and his intentions are jeopardized. Mike drives off before anyone can see what he has done. Not even he has fully processed what he has done.

Leaving your car, your home, and your life behind, he begins the treacherous and exciting journey back to Utah.

Every car that passes has him gripping the wheel tighter, foot reader to slam harder on the gas. He had already lost you once, he cannot lose you again. Mike does not play music, either. The sounds of your breathing is his new favorite harmony.

He casts a glance in the rear-view mirror every now and then. You're draped among the back of the car, cocooned in the numerous blankets he brought for this trip. Beneath the windows, your head is rested against a fluffy pillow. He even snuggled a few plushies into your arms. The sight is so gut-wrenchingly adorable, Mike nearly crashes the car with how painfully distracting the sight of you is.

This was the state he stayed in for the first several hours of the drive. Mindless driving on freeways, checking on you (as well as continuously cooing over your cuteness), and holding his breath whenever he passes through busy areas or cops. Then, he gets knocked off course.

With blurred vision, you can barely discern where you are.

Sunlight makes you squint. Your mind is messy. You can hear the rumble of a car engine, feel the vibration against your form. The blankets wrapped around you are suffocating. You peel them off from your body, a few random stuffed animals fall to the car floor when you do so.

Mike nearly snaps his neck with how fast he turns around. His efforts to take you away were frivolous, yes, but he was sure he had given you enough pills to sleep through the trip.

"Hey, you're okay. Y-You're okay. Everything's gonna be okay. Okay? Just don't freak out... Please don't freak out."

You do the opposite of what he advised. Little by little, the pieces begin to click together. Panic settles in your stomach like a fresh sheet of snow. Hyperventilating breaths leave your shaking body, accentuated by your frightened whimpers. Who is this man? What the fuck is going on? Tears stream down your face with every question that litters your mind. And every cracked sob you let out is a fatal strike to your assailant's fragile heart.

Mike is quick to comfort you, as you can always count on him to do such. And how badly he wishes to climb into the back seat himself and hold you close. Everything he is doing is for the better, you must know that. As scary as this all may seem for you, he will do whatever it takes to convince you of this truth.

He reaches his hand back to soothe you, only succeeding in the opposite when you cower away from his touch. Mike cannot hide how poignant your rejection is, he is shocked he hadn't broken down into tears alongside you.

"... Are you going to hurt me-?"

"I would never."

He answers without a sliver of hesitation. Your shattered, sugar-sweet voice absolutely destroys him.

The weight of his declaration is so immense that you could almost believe him. You should believe him, as he only tells the utter truth. The fact you have been drugged and shoved into the backseat of a stranger's car, however, convinces you otherwise.

Looking through the window, you take note of the rural area you're in. Nothing but miles of trees to comfort you. No distinct landmarks to help you navigate your location.

Mike oscillates between looking at you and the road. While he's occupied with the road ahead, you take action before thinking thoroughly. Sweltering blankets torn off of your body, you unfasten your seatbelt as silently as you can. You mentally prepare yourself for the turmoil up ahead. Then, within a matter of a single second, you unlock the car door and jump.

Debris slices into you as you fall deeper into the forest. The world becomes a blurred frenzy of trees and cloudy skies. Your frail body is drowsy from the drugs still pumping through your system. Your ribs ache, your ears ring, and you are covered in gashes. Still, survival is the only prospect present in your brain. You pick yourself up from the dirt and dash forward. Never looking back.

April puddles and fallen pinecones ruin your expensive work shoes. Fresh flowers are squished beneath your steps. There is no path you intend to take, you only wish to get as far as you can from that man. Poison ivy and low-hanging branches slash at your skin. You do not think, you only push and push and push. Anywhere away from him.

The second you had opened that car door, Mike slammed down on the brakes. The scream of your name hurts his throat from the sheer volume. To see you jump, leaving him again, sparked fear like no other. He does not even bother to turn off the car or close the door before he is racing after you. He cannot lose you again. He can't, he can't, he can't.

Mike barrels into the forest like a feral animal. He is met with a terrifying sense of déjà-vu. He's seen this movie before, he's heard this song a million times. This dream has haunted him forever. Just when he is inches from touching salvation, you will be snatched away from him. And he will have to watch as his life crumbles before his very eyes.

His legs grow heavier with every step. He screams for you until his voice goes raw. His lungs feel as though they may collapse into themselves. Still, his efforts to find you do not falter. You would have to kill him if you wished to keep him away from you.

A tree branch crunches.

Mike stops dead in his tracks. Listening.

There's a pained whimper. Quiet amongst the soft winds.

He dashes toward the sound. Swift in surging through the steep hills and overgrown forestry in his path.

While you were running, you failed to notice a protruding tree root. When your foot hooks beneath it and sends you tumbling to the ground, you try and scramble to your feet. However, the burst of adrenaline that had gotten you this far could not combat the lethargy still in your body. You lay on your back, exasperated with debility. Entirely paralyzed.

"Y/N! Oh, thank God!" Mike collapses beside you, all while you stare at the stranger in utter terror.

Dirt and sweat paint his body. Eyes blown wide and crazed, his hands reach for you. Fearfully searching for any wounds. One hand cradles your face, caressing your skin with his thumb. The other rests against your hairline, petting the expanse with tender intent. Cries of both relief and terror fill the empty silence. To lose you all over again is a horrifying prospect he cannot fathom the weight of.

"N-... No..." Your voice is weak. Barely able to crawl out of your mouth.

Fingers latched into the mud, you try to drag your body away from this maniac. Mike brings your attempts to a halt, hands still latched onto your body.

"I'll be good, Y/N, I will... Just-Just stay with me!"

Your assailant does not listen to your feeble demands. Instead, Mike wraps his arms around your torso. Further ensnaring you in his locked embrace. He buries his face into your neck and rocks your body back and forth. Trying to soothe you into another slumber. His sniffles are overpowered by his sharp inhales of breath. Consuming your scent.

"You're not leaving me. You're not fucking leaving me!" Mike bawls out.

He is now a complete mess. Face twisted with ugly sobs. All hot tears and running snot.

"Just sleep now, okay? I'm right here..."

Blunt nails dig into your shoulder blades. His weight on top of you is suffocating. Please just love him and never leave him. That is all he could ever ask for, all he could ever want. He has spent so long without the one he loves most, he cannot bear to ever part from them ever again.

With a choked groan, Mike lifts your limp body from the ground. Sniffling reassurances echo as you reach a state of unconsciousness. He lifts you over his shoulder and your body loses all mobility. As he takes you away, your mind fades into a peaceful rest. Escaping is now a pipe dream.

Faint sounds of shuffling are what you're next awoken to. Pipes bang and thump. It is far more quiet than your last conscious encounter.

Darkness pervades your vision. Your body feels weightless, as though you are floating through a dream. You cannot move, no matter your efforts to try. As if your limbs had been glued to the fluffy expanse you've been laid upon. All you are capable of doing is releasing a guttural moan of disdain from the back of your throat.

"Easy, cub. Easy now."

No.

The voice is fluffy and easy. Horrifyingly familiar.

This can't be real; this can't be reality. This cannot be what your life becomes: rotting away in this stranger's embrace.

You were granted several mere seconds of solitude before hands were on your body, once again. The grasp lifts your body, to where your assailant sits behind you and rests your back against his chest. His efforts are gentle. Comforting. Though, the movement still has you wincing in discomfort. You hadn't anticipated how many injuries you had given yourself.

Speckles of your sight return in short spurts. There is light against the darkness, everything is gold. Drowned in the hues of candlelight scattered around the room. The glow is cast against a fuzzy expanse, to where you could almost convince yourself you were in a dream. And my God, do you wish it was.

You miss the rich, headache-inducing colors of your classroom. The judging stares of other parents who drowned their homes in beige decor never felt more comforting. You miss the screeching children with their constant need for attention. Their dramatic tears and obnoxious attitude would bring you peace like no other.

Mike plants his chin against your shoulder and all you can think about is the beautiful life you have lived until this point. His arm slithers across your torso, tightening with vehement need. It is loving in the most suffocating manner. You then hear a bottle unscrew through static noise. shushes you as he presses the lid against your lips. Water cascades into your mouth and down your dry throat, all while Mike presses impassioned kisses to your temple.

"There you go. Very good... You're perfect..." His tone is cordial as he ushers you to drink.

As much as you had tried to fight his attempts to give you water, it has fortunately provided you more clarity. The environment surrounding you fades into something more lucid.

You've been swaddled in a thick comforter. Soft and floral-scented, fresh out of the dryer. The king-size bed is at the end of the room and provides you with a clear view of everything. The lack of windows and decrepit staircase tucked in the corner tell you this is a basement. Soundproofed and locked up, your chances of escape are minimal. He does not want to let you go, that much is for certain.

Across the room is a chunky television. Movie cassettes sit in the cabinet supporting the television, where a newly purchased GameCube is left beside, as well. There's a bookshelf to your left, which is filled with old novels and children's books. Nothing was bought recently. Is there a child in this house? Lego sets and puzzle boxes are stacked next to the shelf. You come to the chilling assumption that it is intended to be something for you to occupy yourself with when he's gone.

Much to your satisfaction, Mike leaves from his spot behind you. He guides you back onto the pillow with romantic, loving ease. A gentle caress to your cheek before he goes. As if he was your doting husband taking care of you while you are ill.

When you look to your right, your heart accelerates when you find your iguana enclosure on top of a rickety table. Thank God he is alright! You do not know what you would do if this man had harmed Mr. Cupcake.

As words have failed you consistently, you whine out like a baby to express your wants. Your assailant's attention is back on you at record speed. The persistent need he has to ensure your comfort is almost pathetic. Teary-eyed and pouty, you reach for the enclosure holding your iguana.

Mike's body goes rigid. A gentle gasp emanates from him.

Are you... Are you reaching for him?

He practically throws himself back onto the bed. Sat beside your laying form, he almost can't bring himself to believe it. His deluded fantasies have bloomed into existence.

"Yes? What do you need, cub?" Please say him. Please say you need him like he needs you.

Mike looks at you and his eyes melt into candy. A gentle smile plastered on his face, he brings his finger up and boops you on the nose. Affectionate is his natural disposition. You're too fucking cute.

Mike had wasted an entire year without you. Too much time spent neglecting you of his love. Oh, you must have been so lonely without him. This is all he has wanted, after all. To take care of you. To take the weight off your shoulders and bring you ease like no other. He will spend the rest of his lifetime making up for the lost time. He would spend forever for you, slaving away to earn your forgiveness.

When you firmly establish what it is you actually want, no amount of sleeping pills in your thermal cup could stop you from seeing how defeated he is. Your rejection cuts like a dagger. Anyone can see this genuine fact. Still, Mike abides by your request. He'd tear mountains asunder for your happiness, after all.

Begrudgingly, he leaves your side. He opens the enclosure with struggle. Too many notches and slots. When he takes Mr. Cupcake into his hands, the iguana squirms and twists. Almost as if the reptile grasped what was happening. He propels his tail like a whip, reaching for the hands around him with his sharp teeth. His nails dig into whatever part of this stranger he can find.

When Mike plops him into your lap, Mr. Cupcake relaxes instantaneously. You snuggle him into your arms and are provided comfort from him, as well. His scaly flesh and jagged spine abrade your face, but you have never known a more soothing embrace. You plant a myriad of kisses and adoring nuzzles on Mr. Cupcake's skin. At the same time, you ignore the third wheel standing there.

Mike watches this and is nearly sick with want. Never in his life had he ever thought he'd wish to be an iguana this bad. The things he would give and the things he would take to be on the receiving end of your affections bridges off insanity.

Averting his gaze, he cannot watch the scene anymore. He had never expected to be so envious of a goddamn reptile. Mike grants you the time you want with that prickly bastard and leaves the basement. You hear the tumultuous clatter of all the locks and bolts being put into place once he is gone.

The time without Mike is something you do not take for granted. Silence is precious, solitude even more so. During his absence, you reel through the supercut of your life. You cannot find this man in any of your memories. You do not remember that face no matter how hard you try. He is the bad guy, the villain. The very definition of 'stranger-danger' you teach your students about.

When Mike returns, all of that disturbed turbulence comes with him.

In his hands is a cracked dinner plate with spaghetti and meatballs splat on top. The closer he gets, the faster your heart pumps. Setting the plate down on the bedside table, he takes your iguana from your tight hold. Mr. Cupcake still thrashes in his grasp, trying to bite and hit wherever he can. Good boy.

When the beast is locked away, Mike is idyllic to be alone with you again. He acts as though the current circumstances were romantic, where you and him are enjoying an amorous vacation. He then places the meal carefully in your lap, wary of the hot plate burning your precious skin.

"You need to eat, cub. You've been through so much. Too much." Mike's hand finds your face again, thumb caressing your cheek.

His mere words make you want to vomit your breakfast all over what is supposed to be your dinner. Still, you obey and begin eating. The dish is mediocre, at best. You've tasted better from the kitchen play set where your students wear chef hats and cook plastic food. Kidnapped and trapped in a basement, however, you'll take whatever scraps you can get.

Eyes glued to your plate, you do not watch as Mike takes a movie from the cabinet and pops it into the VCR. "The Immortal and the Restless" whirs to life as he returns to where you sit. Mike lays down beside you and joins you beneath the warm comforter. He takes the fork from your hands. A shiver cascades up his arm upon the faint contact made by your fingers touching. Oh, it is love. He then begins to feed you. There is nothing but sugary madness in his eyes.

Bite by bite, you are forced to watch soap operas and listen to nauseating love declarations.

"I was so alone out there without you, baby."

If only you hadn't been so fooled by a security vest and pretty brown eyes, you could be with your students right now. You could be free right now.

If only.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

❝ PRAYING STRAIGHT TO GOD THAT

MAYBE YOU'LL COME BACK AROUND . . . ❞

no one asked for this but idc hehe.

gif creds :: mike.

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angelltheninth · 6 months

Note

Omfgggg i cant stop thinking about mike schmidt from the new fnaf movie getting me pregnant..

It's NNN, not breeding season! But... very appealing.

Pairing: Michael Afton/Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, gentle sex, sex during pregnancy, clit stimulation, sweet!Michael Afton

A/N: I re-watched the movie last night with my friends, they understood nothing but all agreed that Mike was precious.

Michael was much more gentle the he was before he found out about your pregnancy, you'd barely began showing and already he was going so slow you thought you might die from the teasing and the denial. It wasn't his plan to do this to you, he was just being a considerate husband, you couldn't exactly fault him for it. But your pussy sure could.

"Mike... move faster damn it!" You grew visibly more and more impatient but his pace didn't change, he held your ass in his hands, hips slightly lifted so he could still sink in deep, but god were his hips moving slow.

"No... might hurt the baby." Michael's eyes moved affectionately to the baby bump, a smile unknowingly appearing on his face, "Can you believe we did that? We made that." He chuckled to himself, eyes full of wonder.

"I know, I was there. But unless you never want to fuck me again you... god- need to move faster. Or at least... I don't know, just do something! Anything! This is driving me insane!" You could feel yourself teetering on the edge of an orgasm. But if he kept this up you were never gonna get there.

He knew what to do, the perfect solution. "Like this?" One of his hands left your ass and slowly made it's way across your thigh, to your hip and made you sound out a most desperate moan when the rough pad of his thumb moved back and forth across your clit. "That's better isn't it sweetheart? I can feel you tightening up around my dick. I'm so sorry, I didn't realize how close you were."

That was a dirty lie, he knew your body very well by now, he knew you were about to finish and his smile proved it. Staying on the same speed he was before his other hand eased your ass down to the bed and pressed against your pregnant belly. "Thinking of giving me another one?"

"Uh, let's see how we handle one." Michael shifted his weight a little, making sure his cock dragged along the sensitive spots of your pussy. He rolled his thumb against your clit every time he pushed his cock back in, humming at the repeated tightness and the blissful moans that got louder and louder the closer you got. Your back arched off the bed, his hand slipping from your stomach to your breast, accidentally brushing against your now very sensitive nipple.

"Ah!" The unexpected stimulation combined with the pressure in your pussy and your clit made you see stars. There was no controlling your hips as they moved against him. Michael did everything he could to make your orgasm last, after all he was the reason it was delayed, might as well pay you back by not taking his hands or eyes off you until you stopped shaking.

#fnaf x reader #fnaf smut #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #michael afton x reader #mike schmidt x reader #michael afton #mike schmidt #micheal afton x reader #fnaf headcanon #fnaf imagine #fnaf x you #mike schmidt x you #michael afton smut #mike schmidt smut #smut drabble #x female reader

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cozymaples · 4 months

Note

mike fucking you till you cry but being so sweet about it -

“feel that good baby?” n wiping her tears?? LAWDDDDD

OHHHH UH HUH.

“can’t-“ you gasp, sobbing softly as mike fucks into you. his cock is thick, long and hard as it stretches you out. the mattress squeaks beneath you, and he coos softly. “oh, baby; but you can.” he encourages, his thumb lazily rubbing circles into your clit like muscle memory, knowing just where to make you squirm. “feels good, huh?” he asks, be-knowingly. the girth of his cock makes you feel stuffed full of him, the length of him brushing against your g-spot. he wipes your tears with his thumb, pressing his lips to yours over and over again. tender kisses to keep you grounded as he fucks into you harder, broken sobs spilling from you into his mouth. his lips are parted, moans trembling out of him as he listens to your weak, whiny moans. “come on, honey.” he pleads, “want you to feel good, baby. let go. let yourself go.” he orders softly between thrusts, and you cry out, coming undone around his cock, feeling him twitch inside of you, spilling his load into you.

yeah…yeah.

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futureman · 4 months

Text

don't wanna leave this play date

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

summary: you and mike find a way to make a boring shift at freddy's a little more interesting

warnings: 18+ MDNI, coworker!reader, smut, pwp, overstimulation, edging, blowjob, extremely rough oral, throatpie, fwb

word count: 1.9k

(based on these two requests, tysm for sending them in!)

"Thank you. God, thank you so fucking much."

You can't respond to him with your mouth as full as it is, but he picks up the acknowledgment in your next extra-hard suck. He probably wouldn't have heard you anyway, not with how loud he's gotten over the last half hour.

Should you both be working right now? Yes. Could something go terribly wrong because you're too busy blowing your coworker to watch the security monitors? Oh, absolutely.

But when his curly mop of hair appeared at the edge of the doorway midway through your shift, you knew you'd end up doing whatever he asked you to. It might just be your fatal flaw—you can never say no to Mike Schmidt.

He buries his fingers in your hair, tensing but not tugging, as you steadily work him the way you know he likes. He's surprisingly gentle for someone so eager to get his cock in your mouth every night, but you figure there's not much else to do during a midnight to 6 a.m. security gig at a closed-down pizzeria no one gives a shit about anymore.

Plus, you like doing it. You like him. It's cute how unashamed and unapologetic he is about how badly he wants you, and he makes you feel so good, you've never even thought about turning him down.

Even on nights when he just needs a quick release to ease the boredom or relax him enough to squeeze in a nap, just the taste and weight of him on your tongue has you soaking right through your panties. And he always makes it up to you.

But you're bored tonight, too. With three hours left to go, you'd been sitting in your shitty folding chair wondering how the hell you were going to stay awake and pass the time when Mike offered you an enticing solution. Except, you're still feeling antsy, and you don't want this to be over as fast as it usually is. Tonight, you want to play a little longer.

You pull off of him with a lewd pop and jerk him off languidly, loosening your grip to stave off his quickly approaching orgasm.

"That feel good?" you ask breathily, inhaling a lungful of air after letting him rut into the inside of your cheek for the past ten minutes. His fingers twitch against your scalp as he nods.

"S'good, feels so good," he slurs, his head tipped back as he bucks off the chair and into your fist.

"You want more?" You start to twist your wrist whenever you get close to the tip, and you can see and feel the shudder that wracks through him.

"Yes, god, yes. Please," he pleads, just short of begging.

"More what?" you goad experimentally. It wasn't your intention to make him beg when he walked into your office asking for help, but now you don't want him to stop.

"Y-your mouth," his head lolls forward, and he bites his lip hard at the sight of you licking away the precum streaming from his tip.

"Deeper, can I—," he tries to ask, but you shift to tease the underside of his head, and he chokes out a groan. "Wanna fuck your throat so bad."

"Are you gonna cum if I let you?"

"Fuck, probably," he admits reluctantly.

"Then, pick something else," you give him a teasing smile, a little charmed by his honesty.

Continuing to stroke him, you duck down to press a wet kiss to the base of his cock, then surprise him by sucking one of his balls into your mouth.

"Jesus, fuck," he gasps, leaking more precum that dribbles onto your cheek as you alternate between harder suction and softer swipes of your tongue.

He tastes salty and heady, and you were right. You're wet as fuck and so tempted to shove your other hand down your pants to toy with your clit, but you know he'll do that later. And you're not even close to being done with him yet.

Your grip tightens as you pick up your pace and focus closer to the head, maintaining eye contact that seems like it's setting him off just as much as your mouth or hand. His whole body vibrates with those telltale whimpers, and he finally starts to tug at your hair.

"M'gonna cum. Shit, keep going, I'm gonna cum," he grits out, his chest heaving.

His eyebrows pinch and his lips part, and he looks like he's seconds away from blowing his load all over your face—but then you release him again. You slide your hand under his shirt to stroke his heated skin comfortingly as he squeezes his eyes shut, panting like he just ran a marathon.

"Shit...shit," he keens, and you can feel his abs tensing and relaxing under your palm. His cock jerks pathetically next to your face, and you grip the base to make sure he doesn't accidentally topple over the edge.

"Shit," he whines again frustratedly, half-heartedly trying to pry your fingers off him. "Why?"

You rest your head against his thigh and smile, watching him pout down at you. He really is so cute when he gets fussy like this.

"You really wanna cum that fast? What happened to wanting to fuck my throat?" you tease him, beginning to jerk him off again. He sighs in relief, and his hips jut forward to meet your hand on every downstroke.

"You already said no," he replies dejectedly.

"I said not yet," you correct. "If you give me one more, I'll let you do whatever you want."

He eyes you curiously like he thinks you're baiting him, and you guess in a way you are. By now, he knows you've been edging him on purpose, but he has nothing to lose and everything to gain if he accepts your deal. He knows you'll make him feel good no matter what.

"You can choke me," you continue, slurping messily around the tip. "You can be as rough as you want," you trail your lips down his spit-slick length to the base and lick a wide stripe back up, "and you can cum in my mouth, and I promise I'll swallow all of it."

He's nodding frantically before you can even finish, and his eagerness reminds you of a golden retriever.

"You're gonna be good?" you confirm.

"I'll be good, I'll be so good," he blurts out, his urgency slurring his words again.

"I know you will. Just one more time, I know you can handle it," you encourage him.

Then, you swallow him down without warning. He lets out something guttural and animalistic, both hands tensing to hold you in place, and you let him.

You never planned on making this easy, but you meant what you said. He can handle this. He can handle the tightness of your throat constricting around him, contracting intermittently to mimic how your pussy feels fluttering around him.

Or, at least, you hope he can. You feel his balls draw up dangerously under your chin, and when you peer up through your watery lashes, his eyes are starting to cross. That's not good.

Slowly but steadily, he nudges the back of your throat harder and harder until tears and drool are streaming down your cheeks and chin. He's mumbling incoherent strings of praise and curse words between drawn-out whines, but you can barely hear him over the wet sounds of your own gagging.

"Fuck, that's...good, that's so fucking good," he pants raggedly, picking up his brutal pace. It's like he's lost all control of his body, and all he can do is chase the high you've been denying him all night.

You gurgle around him, grasping his thighs to ground yourself against the force of his thrusts, and briefly contemplate trying to stop him. But it's too late and he's already too close. His face screws up, and then you know it's coming.

"I'm sorry—I'm...fuck, I'm s-sorry, I'm so sorry. I can't—," he whimpers, fucking into his fist, "—m'gonna cum, I'm so close."

Moaning around him in response, you dig your nails into his skin, hoping the unexpected pain distracts him enough to keep him from cumming, but that only makes it worse. So, you let him.

The subtle vibration combined with the sharp bite of your nails sends him reeling. His expression goes completely lax, and then—

"I'm cumming...oh my god—," he all but sobs, burying himself as deep as you can take him.

You struggle to breathe through your nose as he empties down your throat, swallowing as much as you can, but you've been edging him for too long.

Viscous fluid leaks out of the corners of your mouth and down his cock, adding to the wet mess in his lap, and your harsh grasp on his thighs only seems to prolong his orgasm. After what feels like a lifetime, his whimpers taper into soft pants and he starts to rub soothing patterns into your scalp, an apology for his rough treatment.

You blearily meet his eyes, and they're glassy and unfocused, watching you reverently like he can't believe you just let him do something he's only ever seen in porn. And that you actually liked it. Shakily, he reaches out to thumb away the release dribbling down your chin, and you pull off of him briefly to suck it off his finger before returning to his cock.

That's why you do this night after night—that look right there. It's the awe and hunger that linger even after he's already thoroughly blissed out and softening in your grasp.

Except tonight, he's not. Mike is somehow still hard as a rock and thrusting weakly into your mouth, trembling like a leaf now that his aftershocks have subsided and the sensitivity is setting in.

Tentatively, you grip him at the base and swirl your tongue around the tip to gauge his reaction, and when he doesn't push you away, you take him further into your mouth. But on your next hard suck, his lips part and a violent shudder wracks his entire body, so you hesitate and pull off.

"Too much?" you wince, slowly uncurling your fingers from around his cock, but he shakes his head furiously.

"N-no, feels...so much," he says, dazed, his voice scarcely above a whisper. "Feels good. Can you keep going? Please."

His face is screwed up, as tense as the rest of him as he struggles with conflicting feelings of intense pleasure and pain, but he's not fighting it. He's actually enjoying it.

He flinches as you resume your movements, toying under the ridge with the tip of your thumb, and begins to squirm the longer you continue to play with him. A quick glance at the clock tells you there's still an hour and a half left of your shift—that's plenty of time.

In the four nights you've worked here, the security monitors haven't shown a single sign of activity and you doubt they're going to start now. Your gaze drops from his pained, yet hopeful expression to his twitching cock, and you make a decision.

You'll go as long as he wants. After all, you can never say no to Mike Schmidt.

"Mhm, whatever you want," you hum, then sink back onto him. He sighs gratefully, shivering at the sensation and your words, and verbalizes his gratitude repeatedly like a prayer.

"Thank you, thank you."

thanks for reading!

(dividers by @saradika-graphics)

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt #fnaf imagine #fnaf smut #fnaf movie #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson x reader

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sugarypinecones · 5 months

Text

Sleepover - Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader

a/n: first time writing on this acc!! this kind of came to me in a dream <3 sorry if it sucks btw i got kinda lazy towards the end!

warnings: age gap (mike is 25 reader is FRESHLY 18), smut, pervy!mike if you squint enough, overstim, p in v, fem receiving oral, size kink if u squint, innocent reader, mike terrorizes the poor teddy bear 😞, they’re coworkers & i tweaked the job info a little bit

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

It started innocently enough. You, needing a job, as you had just freshly turned 18 decided that the night shift would be the easiest route, since you could do your college classes online while working, since it’s not often there’s trouble involving a pizzeria.. or you’d hope, at least.

You weren’t aware it’d be an every-night thing, but you were aware you had a coworker which did ease your nerves. The minute you met him, he was instantly awkward around you, and in such a cute way that you had developed a crush almost immediately.

And, because you had been in such close proximity for two weeks straight, you two had clearly became friends as there’s nobody else to talk to, and your schoolwork gets done fast when you know once you’re done you can finally talk to him.

How the job worked, was that there were four nightguards, and you’d switch off every two weeks for a paid leave, which is what made the job initially seem so appealing to you.

And now it was your final night, and you’d be off for two weeks, which would seem exciting, but you weren’t. You’d grown so close with Mike over the last two weeks that, you simply couldn’t imagine being gone from him for two weeks. You weren’t sure if he even considered you a friend, but it didn’t hurt to try, right?

“Mike?” You spoke up from your chair, and he turned from his phone, looking at you as you softly smiled. “I’ve really enjoyed these past two weeks, you know..” You trail off, looking at him to see his reaction, making sure you weren’t ruining anything. “Me too. It’s nice not to be so alone,” He smiled, about to turn back to his phone but you begun to speak up, “So.. I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come back to my house sometime within these two weeks we’re off?” You smiled hopefully, anxious.

He didn’t reply for a second, looking at you, his gaze locking into yours before he smiled, looking away. “Why not? I’ll just have to find a babysitter for Abby,” He smiled, and you almost let out a sigh because of how hard you held your breath. “Cool,” You smile, looking to the floor, “Just text me when you wanna come over.” You clarify, looking at your phone as he hums, letting you know he heard you.

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

Which leads him to knock on your doorstep, swallowing dryly as he looks around. It felt wrong to be here, seeing as the differences in ages, but it’s not like it was his idea - and you’re just so nice to him, so it’s not like he could decline it - that’d be rude! You come to the door, adorned with the skimpiest tank top he’d ever seen and shorts, Mike freezing in fear like if he moved you’d vanish. “Hey, Schmidt.” You smile, hugging him, causing him to thaw whatever that was and hug you back.

“Woah, it’s um..” He trails off, looking around your house. “Weirdly exactly how I imagined it.” He laughs, and you turn and tilt your head down, leading him to your room - in which he sat down on your bed, you laying down next to him and smiling. “So what do you wanna do?” You smile, and he knew if he told you the truth of everything he wanted to do to you, it could kill a pilgrim.

“Uh, I don’t know..” He trails off as you glance up at him, smiling softly. “Anything you wanna do, really.” He smiles back, and you quickly sit up. “Well,” You get close to his face, scrunching your nose. “We could watch a movie, or..” You trail off, beginning to think about it. “That’s fine by me, what do you wanna watch?” Mike smiled, and you shrug, “Why don’t you choose,” You return the smile, leaning over to grab the remote, in which he got a perfect glance of your ass, and as much as he wanted to respect you and look away - he couldn’t, and his eyes are directly glued to it before you look back at him, tossing him the remote.

He put on a random movie and leaned back next to you, and you subconsciously move closer, cuddling into his warm body. He didn’t know if you were trying to send him signals, or just genuinely trying to cuddle, innocently. You look up at him, smiling, and he really is torn between the two. He smiles down at you, and you glanced at his lips, suddenly feeling his breath against yours. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” He whispered, and you nodded, a hand in his hair as he kisses you, pulling him down further needy for more.

He laughed against your lips, and you get on top of him, subconsciously grinding against him as your lips press against eachothers, Mike pulling away momentarily as he grabs at your hips, looking you in the eye as you breathlessly stare at him, “What’s this feeling?” You whisper, genuinely confused and honestly, starstruck.

You had been very sheltered growing up, and had grown up quite religious - and as much as you tried to rebel from it, you were honestly a goody two shoes, until you turned eighteen. You immediately moved away and indulged yourself in everything you couldn’t when you were growing up under your parent’s roof. You knew what a crush was, and you certainly knew you got odd feelings sometimes, but you were sheltered, you didn’t know anything about stuff like that.

“Oh, baby,” He coos, moving you back next to him, “I forgot,” He whispered, brushing hair out of your face. You had told him about it once, while you were bored in the office together. He found it interesting, and offered to teach you if you were ever curious, (clearly trying to be slick about his moves, but you didn’t know that.) He smiled, kissing you. “You’re turned on.” He smiles, and you seem confused, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Do you want me to make it feel better?” He asked you, and you immediately nod, the heat between your legs unbearable as he sat next to you.

He smiles as he kisses you, his hands reaching down to your shorts. “Is this okay?” He whispered, looking up at you. You nod, biting your lip as his eyes lock on yours. “Words.” He clarified, and you exhaled breathlessly, “Please,” Looking down on him, and that was all he needed to pull down your shorts and underwear, resting at your knees as he grazes his fingers against your wet folds, smiling to himself as you whine lowly, pleasure taking over without his fingers even inside you yet.

Slowly, he inserted one finger, looking at you as you bite your lip, looking to the ceiling as he pumped it in and out of you, watching as you moan softly and grab at the bedsheets, Mike leaning you back against pillows as he works his way up to two fingers, your legs subconsciously closing as you approach your high fast, and he just uses his other hand to pry them open, grinding subconsciously himself against your bedsheet, finding pleasure just by pleasuring you.

You reach your high, crying out in pleasure and closing your legs as he smiles, putting his lips against yours before entering his fingers into your mouth, in which you suck, without even being asked to do so, your juices coating your mouth as he kissed you again, inserting his tongue into your mouth, tasting your juices too.

“Mike,” you whisper against his mouth as you part, and he opens his eyes, looking at you as you smile softly, “Thank you.” You smile, and he could fuck you right now, but he doesn’t because he knows how sensitive and unready you are, just smiles back, nodding. “I want to make you feel good.” You smiled, and his eyes widen. “Baby,” He started, a hand cupping your cheek, “You’re not ready yet,” He shook his head, and you bite your lip. “So teach me how.” You whisper, and Mike folded immediately, kissing you softly.

He lowers himself back down to your dripping pussy, smiling as he licks a stripe against it, you bucking your hips up due to both pleasure and sensitivity from your recent high. He begins to suck on your sensitive cunt, you crying out in pleasure as you grab onto his hair, causing Mike to go faster, grabbing at your thighs as he eats you out like he’s been starved for years.

It didn’t take you long to reach your second high, moaning loudly as you close your legs, trembling as he wiped his chin, looking up at you. “Mike,” You mumbled, and he shook his head. “Not yet, darling,” He coos again, crawling up next to you as he kisses your neck softly, “And frankly, I think you need a break.” He suggests, but you quickly shake your head, “No!” You almost shout, looking at him as he widened his eyes in shock. “Please.” You soften, and he can’t help but crumble to those eyes you’ve given him.

“Where’s your favorite teddy?” He smiled, and you looked around, grabbing the one above you. He sat it in-front of your dripping cunt, smiling. “If you can prove to me that you can ride this and reach your high without my help,” He smiled, “I’ll consider your request.” He kisses you, helping position you onto the bear. He knew he wouldn’t fuck you today, but he could at least help you a little bit more.

You slowly move yourself back and forth on it, your underwear at your ankles now as you rock against it, your juices soaking the poor bear as Mike pulls down his pants, taking out his cock and beginning to stroke it as he watched you pleasure yourself, moaning in unison with you as you put your hands infront of you, continuing to ride the teddybear as he sped up his process, coming closer to his high and pulling you and the bear closer, pumping himself faster as he finally came, his come leaking all over the bear as you rid yourself into it, and he couldn’t help himself from placing a kiss on your belly.

You slowed down, clearly reaching your high now too, and that’s when he took over, “Fuck it,” he mumbled under his breath, unable to hold himself back as he lifts you off the soaked bear, you letting out a soft moan as you’re pulled away from your high so abruptly, and laid on your back against more pillows, opening your eyes as Mike leaned down, placing a kiss against your lips before moving to your swollen pussy, placing another kiss against it as he pumped himself once more, aligning himself with your entrance.

And with that, he’s inside of you, and you moan out loudly as he sees the imprint in your stomach, holding back from going feral as he slowly fucks you, your walls clenching around him as you’re reaching that high you were denied just seconds ago, moaning out nonstop to a point where you put a hand over your mouth and close your eyes as your nails dig into his back, egging him on further.

He grabs your hand, removing it from your mouth as he smiled, “I wanna hear all those pretty noises,” He whispered breathlessly as he pins both wrists above your head now, sliding in and out of you with more speed as he whines, your legs closing around him as you came, but he continued to fuck you through it, biting your shirt and lifting it as he begins to suck on your boobs, you moaning in both pain and pleasure as he continued to fuck you.

Within seconds, he’s coming too - and collapsing next to you as he pulled you in on top of him, the once pristine silk bedsheets covered in both of your fluids now as he brings you in for a kiss, you hugging him as your entire lower body is still shaking.

#mike schmidt #mike schimdt x reader #mike schimdt smut #mike schmidt x reader smut #mike schmidt x you #fnaf x you #fnaf smut #fnaf imagine #mike schmidt imagine #mike smut #mike imagine #pervy!mike schmidt smut #perv! mike schmidt smut #perv!mike schmidt #pervy!mike schmidt #pervy!mike schmidt imagine #perv!mike schmidt imagine #smut

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clemkruckinnie · 6 months

Text

some thoughts on vanessa afton (18+)

(dedicated to @murdrdocs <333)

vanessa is someone who’s been totally denied control in every aspect of her life. she couldn’t control who her dad was, it’s heavily implied she’s a cop to cover up for him, everything around her has been tainted by him.

except you.

you two meet when she comes into your opening shift at sparky’s, your heart almost stopping when you look over and see her removing the hood of her poncho. her eyes widen in a similar fashion at the sight of you, hair pulled back messily, a few fallen strands tucked behind your ear with your pen. it’s love at first sight.

it’s lust, too. she becomes a regular after and all she can think about is bending you over the diner’s counter, pushing your skirt aside and sliding her strap into you. her face between those perfect thighs, the ones she catches glimpses of when you bend over, not sure of if they’re purposeful or not.

they are. everything you do on shifts vanessa makes an appearance is calculated. you even put on a little makeup, ignoring your coworkers’ teasing (“who’d you get all dolled up for?), because the slight embarrassment you feel is nothing compared to the adrenaline rush you get when you notice vanessa’s pupils dilating at the sight of you.

back onto the topic of control—vanessa is such a soft domme. constant check ins (“you still with me, baby girl?”), reminders for you to be vocal woth what you want, (“cmon, don’t hold back, let me know how good it feels”). she has to fuck you in a position where she can see you, so she usually sticks with missionary. she loves the way you wrap your legs around her, the way you grab at her back and shoulders, the way you whimper her name when you’re getting close and your brain is turning to mush.

the first time she fucks you, your eyes go wide as you watch her put her strap on. it’s not big enough to where it’ll tear you in half, but it’s gonna stretch, and your mouth practically waters at the idea of it. she prepped you enough, now all that’s left to do is take it, and you do—with her encouragement, of course.

“just like that, baby, cmon’—oh, fuck, there you go, that what you wanted? yeah? i’m gonna start—ohh, you liked that, huh? what if i just—thereee you go-“

#cutting myself off before this turns into a 5000 word fic #vanessa afton #vanessa afton x reader #fnaf imagine #fnaf smut

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charlottecutepie · 12 days

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hi Lizzy, sorry to bother you but can I request for a Henry X reader? My man lacks content about him :(( it can be about anything I don't mindd

⋆୨♡୧⋆ Henry Emily x fem!reader smut blurb

author note: thank u for this request love! don't know why but breeding kink + size kink is henry, also him having a dad bod is canon for me. also important: the way i imagine henry is by @kcokaine_ on twitter

tags: nsfw, smut, vaginal sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise, size kink, softdom!henry, jealous!henry, but he tries to hide it, william is an asshole, public sex, breeding kink, missionary, established relationship, Henry’s dilf bc i said so

William has no shame, Henry realized that a long time ago. Especially when he found out that William was cheating on his wife. William doesn't have a shred of damn shame when he lets himself touch you. When he literally fucks you with his eyes. When he tries to give you fucking compliments. Henry rarely experiences such feelings of anger and jealousy. Henry hates himself for his gentle nature and for not being able to punch his friend right into his face. Especially when the pizzeria hall is full of children and their parents as they have no idea what a disgusting asshole William is.

Of course, Henry could have waited until he got home and made love to you there, fucking you so good that you'd have forgotten William's name. But there's always a but. Today Henry wants William to know that you don't need anyone's else's cock but his.

When Henry warned you that his hands were big enough, you just laughed and softly pushed him into his broad chest, that was a joke, right?

But you're not laughing when you feel how true his words turned out to be. Not just the hands, but in fact the whole Henry. His physique is far from athletic, this man isn’t so young anymore and doesn't really keeps his figure, but damn, these muscles that reminds so much of his youth, dad bod, wide shoulders and his damn tall height, you're nearly whining. Now you realise what he was talking about (or warning?), there's only one of his fingers inside you, but it feels like all three. You're wet, incredibly horny and dripping, but it doesn't make it any easier. Henry looks into your eyes, and then his gaze falls on your pussy taking his finger. He frowns, he doesn't want to take out his anger and jealousy on you at all, he just can't do this to you, he loves you too much, so he tries to do everything gently and slowly.

“Kiss me,” you whisper to him, your eyes filled with nothing but desire. Henry looks up at you and then crushes his lips on yours, as if he's been waiting for these words all his life. He kisses you softly and sensually, with all his love and affection he have for you, for his girl. Without taking his mouth off yours, he adds another finger and you pull away to make a loud moan, but Henry literally shuts you up with his palm.

“Remember you can't be loud, sweetheart,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead as he thrusts his large fingers in and out of your soaked cunt. “you can take it.” his low and dominant, but soft tone as he speaks quietly only arouses you more.

You desperately nod and he puts his hand off you, now holding one of your legs open to prevent you from closing them. All this time he stares into your eyes, watching your face and reaction. His thick digits stretch you open just good, making you shiver. Henry curls them slightly, rubbing against your soft spots until you moan, pressing yourself against his hand shamelessly. “Henryyy—” you whine, your pussy clenches around his finger, so fucking wet and responsive.

“Goddamn,” he whispers, pulling his finger out with a wet sound and rubs your swollen clit. You moan again, arching your hips towards him, begging for more contact. “need to taste you, princess.” he says raspingly, pressing his finger on your little bud.

He kisses the inside of your thigh softly, making his way slowly towards your core. You whimper as you feel his tongue on your clit, your legs twitch in pleasure. Henry holds you firmly as he eats you out, he's kissing and circling your sensitive bundle with his tongue. It feels too divine, too fucking good and you can't hold your loud noises, biting your own hand. “Ohh, please—” you cry out as he buries his face deeper into your needy pussy.

You're trembling as your hand grips the edge of the desk tightly, mouth open as you pant heavily, trying your best not to scream. He greedily laps at your slit, sliding his tongue all over your aching hole as it clenches around nothing, but Henry makes sure to fill it with his finger and it makes you see stars. He hums into your pussy, sucking on your clit and thrusting his finger in and out of you. You arch and shiver pathetically, your brows furrowed as your face confronted in pure bliss. Henry fingers you slowly, making sure to prepare and stretch you out perfectly for his cock. Every lick sends ripples of sensation throughout your core, he knows damn well how to make his girl feel good.

“Tha-that feels so good, anngh. . .” you bite your lower lip till nearly blood as Henry makes out with your pussy, so fucking messy, but he looks like he's too drunk to care about you trying to push his head away from overwhelming pleasure. “waittt!” you feel so close, especially when he finger fucks you so slow and gently while pleasuring you with his tongue. “'m gonna cum, Hen—. . . Fuck!” Henry groans, pulling away only for some seconds just to spit on your sloppy cunt before attacking it with kisses again. You taste too sweet.

“Cum on my face, sweetheart,” he murmurs, incoherent as he never really stops eating you out. “be my good girl.” for a moment he flashes you a small smile and you almost whine from how hot he looks, his chin cowered in your slick and hair messy. You smile weakly in return and when he thrusts his finger deeper adding to that sloppy lick on your clit, you feel your orgasm approach you. You moan and you don't give a fuck how loud that sounds, but in secret Henry is damn happy as you let that fucking William know how good your man makes you feel.

Your head spinning as you breathe heavily, chest rising up and down when Henry looks at you with drunk face expression. He stands up and takes your face into his hands, giving you more possessive than soft kiss now, letting you taste yourself. That's filthy, too much, Henry isn't like that in other people's eyes. Only for you.

He trails his kisses down your neck and finally reaches your breasts, he kisses both, touch them and fondle them and groans at how perfectly they look in his big hands. Henry sucks on your nipples, all this time fucking your dripping pussy with his fingers, never wanting to hurt you with his size, he knows you're a big girl and you'll take him, but he prefers to avoid any kind of pain. He tries to relax you to maximum. But what he doesn't know is that you're already too needy and hungry for him, wanting something more than just his fingers.

“My sweet girl.” he calls you while he holds you by the waist and slides his cock all over your hole, his head full of thoughts of these freak stares William gave you this evening. He's soft and sweet with you, reminding you of a fluffy teddy bear, but what happens inside his head and how blood boils in his veins from insane jealousy - that's what you don't see and Henry thinks it's for the best, he'll never show that side to you. “so wet for me, want to feel that cock stretching this tiny pussy?” he literally goes feral at the thought of his cock filling you.

“Please, Henry, i need you,” you look into his eyes and your pathetic sight does something to him. Henry gets himself comfortable between your legs, he caresses your cheek as he can't stop looking at how pretty his leaking tip looks rubbing on your clit. He knows he must be gentle and he tries his fucking best.

Henry starts sliding inside you, all this time holding your waist and watching your face for any signs of pain. “Doing so well for me, sweetheart, just like that.” your eyes widen at unexpected feeling, it's not like you two never had sex, but every time he's inside it feels like new. You think you'll never get used to his size. You look at his dick filling you and your pussy clenches down around him as he buries himself deep inside you. Closing your eyes, you try to accommodate to that thickness inside you but not when you feel his thumb making its way to your nub. Henry rubs his thumb in slow, circular motions on your swollen clit as he continues filling your tight cunt. You moan softly beneath him; reaching to lay your hand on his, which working on your clit, while letting out a contented sigh. You two fall into a slow rhythm, each thrust drawing you deeper into your passion.

“Auhh— your so deep inside of me,” you throw your head back, whimpering loudly as every inch of Henry stretches your soppy pussy. Henry thrusts a little bit harder and your breasts bounce slightly which seems like a sweet invitation to him. He presses his lips to your nipple and pulls it, and then licks and sucks, groaning how good you feel.

“This little pussy taking me so well, you're such a good girl, honey,” Henry mutters as he starts thrusting a bit faster.

You throw your leg around him, pulling him deeper into yourself as you cry out for more; wanting to feel every inch and vein of his cock. He hides his face in your chest as he groans at your warmness and wetness around him, your juices making the most beautiful wet sounds as your bodies slap against each other.

“You feel so—” you choke on your own moans as Henry pumps his thick cock faster, you feel him twitching and throbbing inside of you. “awhhh fuck!”

“Just like that, princess,” his lips finds yours in hot kiss again, your eyes flutter closed. “look at you, taking me so well, all pretty and full of my cock. That's where your meant to be, honey, under your man, ughhh, being fucked nice and good. This little pussy, ogghh fuck!” his voice breaks into a loud moan when your cunt tightens once again at his dirty words. “this little pussy belongs to me.”

Your lovely eyes filled with sweet tears of pleasure. “love you, i— awhh, i love you, daddy!” Henry is used to you calling him that when you fuck, although you rarely do because you're still shy. But what you don't know is what effect that word has on him. He's literally going insane, and thank god Henry knows how to control himself, otherwise your pussy would be absolutely ruined right now. Henry doesn't know what he found in that word. Apparently, it still awakens something in him. No, of course, he loves his daughter very much, the only one, he cherishes her. Whenever he sees how much you care about her, he gets some. . . obsessive thoughts. But it feels so fucking right; the idea of expanding your family, watching you blossom into a mother. Would he like to give Charlie a brother or a sister?

Would he like to make you a mom?

Henry gets so lost in his dreams and fantasies that he doesn't even notice his crazy pace and your hot tears streaming down your cheeks, you look so beautiful it drives him crazy. You wrap your hands around his neck and bring his face closer, kissing him again. Kissing him like it's the last time. You hold him close to you and when Henry pulls away to moan again because of how amazing you feel, you press your lips against his forehead and give him soft kisses, asking him to go harder on you. Henry doesn't listen to you, you don't know what you're asking for. If he'll go harder on you. . . Henry sighs, slowing his thrusts. You don't wanna know what'll happen.

Your tight soft walls grip his cock as he bullies your insides, his hand moves down again and he circles your clit nicely and gentle. You rock your hips back and forth faster, desperate to cum, to feel him finishing inside you. Because Henry always pulled out before. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his tip reaches your cervix and you feel close, so fucking close especially with how he stimulates you using his fingers, rubbing and flicking your little clit. “dont p-pull out,” your tone nearly sounds like an order as you feel Henry ready to pull out. He freezes in place and looks at you, breathing heavily, confusion on his face. “want you to cum inside—” you barely finish your words as he plunges deep inside your pussy much rougher and harder than before, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

If he'll cum inside you, if he’ll get you pregnant, William will definitely notice it. He'll see that you're carrying Henry's baby under your heart. Henry thinks, what will be the reaction of everyone's beloved Mr. Afton? Anger, jealousy? Perhaps envy? William has such an envious nature. Henry's smiling, William has always been jealous of him. Henry have the best daughter in the world, the best girlfriend- almost a wife? Henry always takes the best.

“I'm close, sweetheart,” he tells you, his cock sinking deeper inside you and his fingers dug into the plush of your thighs, his thrusts messy, meanwhile you squirm and moan underneath him.

“Breed me— Ahhng, Henry, breed me!” you beg him and and that's the end for him, Henry fucking whimpers. His eyes squeezed shut, his body shaking and he can't control his loud groans as he spills deep inside of you. It feels too good to stop thrusting inside your cunt as he overstimulates both of you, you cumming on his cock while he fills you up, pumping you full of his cum. You grab on him when he pulls out a little. Watching his cum drip out of your little hole, he sighs and fucks it back in, not wanting any drop of him to ooze out of you.

“You're such a good girl, princess. . .” he whispers, kissing your nipples and holding you in his big hands. If Henry was a dirty pervert like William, he'd send you to William right now so he could fucking see his best friend's cum trickling down the inner side of your thighs. But Henry isn't like William and there's no way he'd do that to you. Probably only in his dirtiest and darkest fantasies.

#henry emily x reader #henry emily smut #henry emily #fnaf smut #fnaf x y/n #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you #fnaf imagine #william afton x reader

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