#michael schmidt x reader

[gogogodzilla]

day 29, somnophilia

mike schmidt x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, unprotected sex, creampie, free use (kinda), semi-established relationship, neighbor!reader, part 2, part 3 kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3

You and Mike came to a relatively simple agreement. You’d watch Abby while he worked nights and he’d repay you by fucking your brains out. He was hot and good in bed, plus Abby spent most of her time in her room. So, you didn’t mind your arrangement much. 

That was until Mike got so busy you hardly saw him enough to receive your payment.

“You know,” you said as you took a seat at your usual spot on his couch, “you still owe me from last week.” 

He sighed and leaned over you, placing a hand on each side of the back cushion, trapping you. 

He pressed a kiss to your lips, “I know. I’ll make it up to you. Promise.” 

You grinned, “I’ll leave the light on for you.” 

Mike surprised you that night when he came home late that night, and you had curled yourself up in his bed, fast asleep. You awoke with Mike pressing heated kisses along your neck and his hand between your thighs. He pressed his free hand against your mouth, muffling the desperate moans that fled past your lips. 

You’d stay tangled between his sheets until the early morning when you’d sneak back across the street to your own home. Ever since that night, you’d tell him that if you wanted him to wake you up like that. The light was on more often than not. 

When he started working nights, things became slightly more complicated. By the time he got back in the morning, it was time to wake Abby up for school and you had to get ready for the day. That was until you had the day off and an idea struck you. 

You were about to head out the door before you turned to Mike, “Leave the light on for me?” 

His eyebrows furrowed for a split second before the corners of his mouth quirked up. “Yeah, of course,�� he nodded and you were out the door, grinning. 

You waited a few hours, performing menial tasks around your home before you decided it was time to put your plan into action. Abby was off to school and Mike was asleep soundly in his bed, headphones placed securely on his ears and nature sounds drifting out of them. You slowly crept further into Mike’s room and began to set up the camcorder at the foot of his bed, flinching at the slightest creak of the tripod. 

You knew Mike wouldn’t wake up, but it was more exciting if you made yourself believe there was a chance. You pressed record and giddiness filled you. You made a show of stripping for the camera. You slowly slid off your sweatpants and underwear in one swoop. 

You picked up the pair of jeans he had on the floor and held them up to the camera, doing your best game show girl impression. You picked up your underwear and tucked them in the front pocket, patting it in before setting them at the foot of his bed. Your shirt was the next to go. You faced the camera as you slowly tugged your shirt over your head, revealing your bare chest underneath. 

You trailed your fingers up your torso and circled your fingers around your nipples, causing them to harden under your touch. You leaned your head back to give him a full view of your chest as you pinched one of your nipples between your fingers, gasping slightly. 

You turned and sauntered to his side of the bed where he was sleeping soundly. You ran your fingers gently over his forehead, brushing his hair out of the way, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

He made your job easier by wearing a black t-shirt and briefs and by always sleeping on his back. You threw the blankets covering his form to the side and kneeled beside the bed. Your hands wandered over his thighs before palming him through his briefs. 

You crawled into bed next to him and your hands drifted past the waistband of his briefs. You stroked him, slowly, before freeing his cock from its confines. You pulled his briefs down and over his balls, just enough for you to access everything freely.

You threw a leg over his thigh and your hand wrapped around his cock once again. He had begun to harden in your grasp but you couldn’t quite get enough friction. You slid down his body and turned so the camera could get a clear view of what you were about to do. 

You held him in your hand and swiped your tongue across the head of his cock. You groaned at the taste of him and enveloped your lips fully around him. You swirled your tongue around the pink-hued tip and Mike’s breath caught slightly but he didn’t stir. 

You steadily bobbed your head, gradually taking more of him with every stroke. One hand stroked what you couldn’t reach while the other gently fondled his balls. You pressed your tongue against the underside of his shaft, and Mike’s cock twitched in your mouth. 

You pulled away and licked your lips when the ache between your thighs became too great. You carefully straddled his lap and ground against his cock, spreading your slick. A soft moan left you as the tip hit your clit just right. 

You brought your hand down to where your bodies met and aligned him with your entrance. The whine that escaped you as you lowered yourself onto him was loud and you slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle it. 

You missed his hands roaming your body as you rode him, but there was something so pleasurable about seeing the minute changes in his demeanor as you used him. You dipped down to press open-mouthed kisses against the column of his neck. You clenched at the thought of covering him with hickeys to find later. You leaned down and explored his chest with your lips and tongue. 

You smiled as small red marks covered his neck and chest. You were confident that they’d blossom into the purple marks you desired once he awoke. You began to rock your hips faster against him as one hand drifted down to circle your clit. You used your free hand to knead your breast, pinching and dragging your fingertip across the bud of your nipple. Your legs were beginning to burn and tremble but the familiar heat pooling in your belly spurred you on. 

You leaned forward, and the new angle had you reaching your peak in no time. You spasmed around him as you continued to jut your hips against him, riding out your high. A satisfied moan escaped you as you felt Mike twitch within you and he filled you with his cum. 

You panted softly as you slid off of him. You kissed his lips softly before fixing his briefs and covering him back up. You stopped the recording and quickly got dressed. You tucked the camcorder and tripod under your arm before leaving Mike’s home. In a few hours, you’d bring him the lunch you made him, tucking the VHS tape inside the paper bag. 

You’d hold the door for him, and walk him out to his car, smiling the entire time. 

“I hope you enjoy your lunch,” you’d mention. He’d grin, a knowing glint in his eyes. You’d leave the light on for him for when he came home.

[an-angel2u]

“‘m sorry… mommy.” mike huffed, his eyelids hanging low. your hand covered in his seed. “i— i couldn’t hold it anymore.” apologies fell from his lips over and over.

“don’t be sorry…” you murmured softly, planting kisses along his v-line, trailing up to his chest. “you did so good for me…” you whispered as you reached his cherry red lips, the same lips he sunk his teeth in a few moments before reaching his peak.

“you deserve that… you’ve worked so hard these past few nights.” you licked off the cum from your digits, maintaining eye contact with mike as he tried to compose himself together once more.

your eye contact only made it worse for him.

“isn’t that right, mikey?” you said, waiting for a response to spill from his scattered brain. “yeah— yeah i’ve been… working.” he nodded vigorously, he had hiked himself up on his elbows.

“mommy’s boy… working so hard.” you started stroking him once again, even though he was worn out… overstimulated. “going to work at twelve… coming home at six… you look so cute when you come home all sleepy.”

you moved your body from being beside his legs to in between them. “barely able to do anything.” you laid a kiss atop his tip.

“just like now…” you teased, placing another kiss on his cock. “please— i don’t want…” mike began protesting. “you don’t want what mikey?” your hand slowed down, stopping at the head, running your fingers back and forth at the top of his length.

“please… don’t stop.” mike reached out for your wrist. “seems like you do want this… hm?” you teased.

“yes…”

“yes, what?”

“yes, mommy.”

[happy74827]

hey pookieeee, how about mike and reader are like new to dating and mike just got his job at freddy’s fazbears pizzeria as night guard. and he has trouble paying the bills and stuff and taking care for abby. and reader is like lemme help you. and mikes like no i got it. just rlly angsty to fluff? if you get what i mean? thanks xo

Resolute Hearts

[Mike Schmidt x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: All you wanted to do was to save him from drowning.

WC: 2883

Category: Angst to Fluff, Happy Ending

I absolutely adored this request. I hope you were serious about the angst, because it is there and it is heavy 🫠

『••✎••』

Tears…that's all you could feel. You felt them running down your cheeks, and you could feel your lips trembling as you sat on the tile floor, hugging your knees to your chest. The surrounding air was thick, a suffocating feeling. It was hard to breathe. Your head felt light, and your vision was a blur. You took in deep, shaky breaths, trying to hold back the sobs you desperately wanted to let out.

You never thought you would feel this way. It was like everything you had worked for your entire life had fallen through. It was like nothing meant anything to you anymore. Your life, your family, your friends. They didn't mean anything to you. You didn't care about them. You were alone, and the only person you cared about didn't seem to care about you back.

The apartment was dark and quiet. You sat in the bathroom, the door locked, the lights off, the fan running to block the sound of your tears. Your roommate had left hours before, saying she had an early morning class. You didn't know why they even had classes so early in the morning.

It felt like decades had gone by since you sat there on the bathroom floor. The bathroom tiles were cold and uncomfortable. You were cold and uncomfortable. You didn't feel like yourself. You weren't the type to get so worked up about anything. You weren't the type to sit on a bathroom floor and cry over things you couldn't fix. You were the type to keep your head held high. To smile through everything, even if the situation was tough. To be the rock for your friends to lean on.

But, you felt alone. You felt so alone.

Michael, Mike. Michael was the one who made you feel alone. You loved him. God, you loved him more than anything. You loved him so much. You loved how caring he was. How sweet he could be. How considerate he was. You loved every inch of him and every inch of what he did for you. He was so considerate of your feelings; he never pushed you to do things you weren't ready for. So, why did his words hurt you so much? Why did his actions make you feel so small and worthless?

Why?

It had only been a few months since you started dating, and everything seemed to be perfect. He was charming, sweet, and an all-around amazing guy. You were so happy with him. He was everything you wanted in a boyfriend, and you were over the moon with how everything was going. He even seemed to care for you; at least, that's what you thought.

He had been distant for the past few weeks. You found yourself seeing Abby more often than you did Mike. You would wake up, and he wouldn't be there, only to find him passed out on the couch or working on a late project in the kitchen.

He said he was fine, but you knew he wasn't. You could tell he wasn't okay. You knew something was bothering him, but he never opened up to you about what it was. You thought about telling him it was okay. That he could talk to you about anything, he didn't need to keep it bottled up. He didn't need to worry you like that.

You did eventually open your mouth to say something about how he was feeling, but before you could even get the words out, he shut you down. He said he was fine that you were overreacting. That you needed to worry about yourself more and stop thinking about his feelings all the time. You just needed to trust him.

You believed him. You foolishly believed him until it all came crashing down. During one of your many late nights babysitting Abby for him, you accidentally stumbled upon papers that he left on the coffee table. One of which was a delinquency notice dated back to last week. He was behind on rent and had a couple of other bills that were due soon. You didn't want to add to his stress, so you figured it wouldn't hurt to try and help him with those.

Apparently, it did hurt. It hurt enough to make him snap at you when you decided to approach him the night before about it. Abby was tucked into bed in her room for the night, so you decided it would be a good opportunity to talk to him just as he was about to leave. How stupid you were. How naive. You didn't know what he was going to say, but you had no idea he was going to get so angry. So angry, in fact, that it ended up waking Abby up.

You felt your stomach churn at the memory of his voice getting louder, your name getting harsher, the tone of his words getting angrier.

"I said I can take care of myself, just like I've always done." He was livid, his face red with anger. He was trying to keep his cool, but it seemed that it was just too much for him. "Why do you have to get involved? Just butt out, alright?"

"I just want to help, Mike. You shouldn't have to pay for everything on your own. I just want to be there for you, like you are for me," you said, reaching out for his hands, but he pulled away from you.

"I don't need you to take care of me. I can handle this on my own. I've been doing this on my own for a long time," he told you, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't want to be touched, you could tell.

"You're right," you admitted. "You're an adult; you've been taking care of yourself for a long time, and I shouldn't try to change that. But I'm here, okay? I'm here for you and for Abby. And I'm not trying to take care of you; I'm just trying to help you. Just let me help you."

"What the hell do you think this is?!" Mike practically screamed at you. "You think this is easy?! You think I don't want to get out of debt, huh? Do you think I like being in debt? I don't! But it's my fault, and it's my job to take care of it!"

"Mike, calm down! Abby is sleeping in the next—" You tried to reason with him, but he didn't want to hear any of it. He was too mad. He was too angry. He turned and grabbed his car keys, turning back to look at you, the hurt and anger evident in his eyes.

"Abby isn't your concern; she's my responsibility. She's my sister, not yours. You're just—" Mike stopped himself, not wanting to say the next thing that came to his head. But you were right there, in front of him, looking up at him with eyes full of hurt. You were so close, so close he could see the tears glistening in your eyes.

“I'm just… what, Mike?" You asked him, your voice hitching. The tears that you had been holding back began to fall. You were at a breaking point; you didn't know how to feel anymore. You didn't know what you were feeling. All you knew was that your boyfriend just screamed at you and hurt you with his words.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and looked over your shoulder to see Abby standing there. She looked up at her brother with wide eyes and a confused expression. She looked from Mike to you, then to her hand that was on your shoulder. You felt numb. You couldn't believe what was happening.

"Abby…" Mike took a deep breath. "Abby, go back to bed, okay? I'll be back soon." He gave her a soft smile. The one he always gave you when you needed it. She looked up at him, giving him the same sad look she was giving you. She rubbed her eyes and walked back into her room, closing the door behind her. Mike turned his attention back to you, but he didn't say anything. He looked like he had more to say, but the words just didn't come out.

And that was the last time you saw him.

You spent the next couple of hours curled up on the floor, crying until you couldn't cry anymore. You tried to sleep in the own comfort of your bed, but every time you closed your eyes, you would see his face. His angry face. The face he made at you the last time you spoke. The face he made when he screamed at you. You hated it. You hated everything about it.

It was around six in the morning when you decided to finally leave your room. It was cold outside, but you didn't care. You needed some fresh air. You needed to get out of there for a little bit. You needed to get away from the suffocating apartment, the suffocating situation. You needed to get away from everything that reminded you of Mike. You walked down the hall to the patio, and you were almost to it when you heard the faint knock on the door.

You stood at the entrance to the living room, listening to the faint knocks. It was the first time in hours that you heard a sound other than your own voice. Your eyes were glued to the door, your hands in fists as you listened. And listened. And listened. It felt like an eternity before you finally decided to get the courage to walk up and answer it, reaching for the knob and pulling it open.

There, standing on the other side of the door, was your boyfriend. Michael was standing there, staring back at you. His face wasn't angry. He wasn't mad anymore. He didn't look sad either. He didn't look like anything at all. He looked blank, empty. Like he didn't have any emotions, his eyes were void of the emotions that you loved so much.

He wore his security vest, the little medallion dangling in front of his chest. He had his name tag attached to it, and you realized he came straight from work. He had bags under his eyes, and his hair was a mess, sticking out at the side. His posture was slouched, his shoulders hanging low. He looked exhausted. But he was there, and he was standing right in front of you like he was the one who had been waiting for so long. Like he was the one who was worried.

"Hi," he spoke quietly. He almost whispered. It was soft, and it was quiet. His voice was scratchy and dry. He was trying to smile, but he was trying so hard to force one that it hurt you to see it. You felt a sharp pain in your chest at the sight of him. "Can we… Can we talk?"

"What are you doing here, Michael? You need to be home for Abby." You felt the lump in your throat rise up as you spoke. You could feel the tears coming back to your eyes, and you knew he saw them. He was always good at seeing through you.

"I couldn't go home knowing we're not okay." He looked at you with the saddest look you had ever seen. The look made you want to cry again. You didn't want to cry anymore.

"I… I can't right now," you said, moving to close the door in front of you. "I need some time to think." You started to shut the door, but his hand was quick to stop you from closing it. He put his foot in between the door and the frame and held the door open.

"Please," he begged, practically whining. He was so desperate. You knew he was desperate. You could see it in his eyes, the way his eyebrows were furrowed, and how he was clenching his jaw. "I know I shouldn't have said what I did last night. I was just… I was just angry. I didn't mean what I said, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I don't want to lose you because of my shit."

"Mike…" you started, but he cut you off.

"I'm just not used to having someone around all the time… Having someone help me. I know I get angry easily; Fuck, I know I'm stubborn. I know that I get mad at myself a lot because I'm not perfect, but I'm trying. I really am. For the longest time, it's just been Abby and I and no one else. I never really had someone who was willing to take care of me… and I've always been fine. I'm fine." Mike shook his head. "But I don't want to be just fine anymore. I want to be happy, and I want to be happy with you."

You felt a fresh set of tears fall from your eyes. You couldn't help it. The words were too much for you to handle. The sincerity in his voice, the way he was looking at you with his big hazel eyes, and how his voice cracked as he spoke. He looked like he had more to say, but he didn't. He just looked at you. He looked like he was searching for something. And you realized it was your forgiveness. He was waiting for your forgiveness. He was waiting for you to give him another chance.

You thought about all the times he opened up to you. All the times he let you in, and you helped him out when he needed it. You thought about how he was there when you needed him to be. You thought about how he would smile at you when you needed him to, how he would make you smile even on your worst days.

"I think you owe a dollar for the swear jar, maybe more," you spoke softly, looking up at him with your red, puffy eyes. He gave you a confused look, but he soon realized what you were talking about. He chuckled as he wiped the tears from your eyes.

"Yeah, I guess I do. Sorry, Abby," he apologized, acting like he was talking to his little sister. She wasn't here right now, but you knew he still felt like he needed to apologize to her for his actions, too. He always felt the need to apologize. He felt the need to try and be a better brother. To try and be a better son. He looked at you with those big eyes of his. The same eyes you fell in love with.

"Hug?" you asked, a small smile gracing your face. You didn't know why you asked, but you did. You felt the lump in your throat slowly ease up, and you finally felt the air in your lungs start to flow. He smiled back at you, opening his arms, and you stepped into them, burying your face in his shoulder.

He pulled away and kissed your forehead, resting his on top of yours. He rubbed your back as you wrapped your arms around him. He felt safe and warm. He felt like everything that was missing.

"I still don't want you covering the debt," he told you. "But… I'll take the help. I can take the help. I'll take it as long as it's you." You could hear him smiling, and you squeezed him tighter.

"Of course. Of course."

Everything was falling back into place. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't fixed. There was still so much to work out, but it was starting to feel a little better. You felt a little better. You felt a little more whole again. The ache in your heart wasn't so bad. It was bearable, and you could finally breathe again.

"You can let go of me now." Mike's voice was muffled against the top of your head, and you realized you were squeezing him too tight.

Still, you didn't let go. "No, you're warm," you said, smiling into his chest.

He let out a small sigh, shaking his head. "Is this my punishment? Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life?"

"It could be worse. I could still be mad at you," you replied, kissing the side of his neck.

"Well, in that case," he suddenly grabbed you by your waist and hoisted you up over his shoulder. He laughed as you yelped out in surprise, flailing your limbs. You felt the world turn upside down, and you screamed as he turned and walked back inside, closing the door behind him. "Let me show you how sorry I am."

He might've ended up causing Abby to be late to school that morning, but it was okay. It was okay because you were laughing. You were smiling, and most of all, you were happy.

You were happy because even though it wasn't perfect, he was trying. He was trying to make things better for himself and for you. And for the first time in a long time, it felt like you were finally home.

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 109 }

you don't know my name.

mike schmidt x fem.reader warnings: unedited; completely fluffy and safe; story takes place after the events of the movie.

{ doing more than i've ever done for anyone's attention | take notice of what's in front of you, 'cause did i mention? | you're about to miss a good thing. }

there was a cute guy that caught your eye during your morning shift at sparky's diner.

he seems tired, you mused to yourself while wiping down one of the tables. every so often, your eyes would stray to him, taking in his strands of curly, brown hair and eyes the color of milk coffee. you noticed the way those dark circles remain prominent beneath his eyelids, and how slouched his posture was.

it seemed as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet somehow, something about him drew you to him. as your perky and all too eager co-worker, ness, was about to speak to the tired young man, you stop him in his tracks. "wait, ness, if it's okay with you...could we...switch duties for a moment?"

"switch? whatever for?" ness asks you, ready to hear your explanation when a sudden, knowing smile graces his features. "ah, i get it. so you've got a crush on mike schmidt?"

"oh, his name's mike- i-i mean! no, don't be silly, ness! i-i do not have a crush on him! it's just-" you trail off while looking at the table where he- where mike was. "he looks tired, like maybe he could use a little pick-me-up, and someone who's willing to listen to him."

ness playfully rolls his eyes at you, but ultimately takes a hold of your rag and proceeds to wipe down the tables, silently jutting his head over towards the table where mike sat. mouthing a quiet thank you to him, you take out your pad and pen and walk over to his table.

"good morning and welcome to sparky's diner! what can i get for you?" your voice was dripping with sincerity and a bit of enthusiasm, waiting for mike to speak. his gaze was faraway, yet when you called out to him was when he finally looked at you. you watch as his gaze meets with your own, feeling your heart jump into the confines of your throat as it began to race. butterflies were felt erupting all across your abdomen, and you realized that he was kind of cute- really cute up close. you saw his mouth move, mouthing something, yet you were so distracted that you had to shake your head and ask him to repeat his order, an admission that made the heat settle against your cheeks as you could feel the blood rushing beneath your skin. "it's okay, i just said a regular coffee with cream and sugar is fine." "r-right, coffee with cream and sugar, got it! can i get you anything else?" feeling playful, you lean down a bit closer to him, whispering almost in hushed tones, "secret between you and me, but our cinnamon rolls are to die for." your words succeed in making mike smile, earning the tiniest chuckle from him as he shakes his head. "i'm sure they are, but maybe next time. i'm good with just some coffee." "comin' right up!" your heart was fluttering within your chest now, and you could not stop the smile that threatened to paint your features. something about mike stood out to you as being lonely, and you wanted to see him smile again. so, you tell the cooks that you could take care of this simple order, making mike's coffee while putting vanilla creamer and some sugar in it. with his cup of coffee set aside, you got a plate and placed a warm cinnamon roll with a light sheen of frosting on it. with his treat in hand, you head over to the table and deliver mike's order. "here you go." mike sees the cinnamon roll and was about to protest. "oh, sorry, but i didn't order-"

"it's on the house." you wink at him, ignoring the slight pounding of your heart before walking away from mike, giving him some space to enjoy his morning treat. as you made your way back to the counter, ness was giving you an almost smug expression. "so...when's the wedding again?"

his teasing question makes you roll your eyes at him, but deep down, it made your heart skip beats in a way that you've never felt before- but you certainly didn't hate this feeling. { ... } mike schmidt became somewhat of a regular after that first morning. despite how tired he seemed, he always made sure to come to the diner around 7am. from the short conversations you had with him, you knew that he had a bit of a rough childhood and was taking odd end jobs to help with raising his little sister, abby, with his current job being a night shift security guard at the medical center nearby. each time he came, you would serve his usual coffee. your boss always told you to use regular milk for anyone who orders coffee and to save the vanilla creamer for regulars who tipped well, but you didn't care. mike was special to you, so you always added the vanilla creamer to his coffee along with a sweet treat.

it didn't matter that your special treatment pertaining to mike schmidt docked a little bit of your paycheck every two weeks, to you, it was worth seeing his smile and the bit of exhaustion slip away from his features. you wanted to know more about him, and whether he was happy. you wanted desperately for him to open up to you. yet, something seemed to shift. today, when he came in, he changed his order from a single cup of coffee to two. his sudden change in order made your heart sank, wondering if his order for two cups of coffee was for that pretty blonde girl who you saw him with a few weeks ago. she didn't enter the diner with him, rather, they shared a brief conversation before embracing each other. you recall that day where you cheerfully asked him if she was his girlfriend and why she didn't come in with him, hiding the strange hurt you felt behind a too wide smile. yet the moment he vehemently shook his head while clarifying that she was just a friend and needed to get back to work, you all but forgot about it. maybe it's different now after all. you chew on your bottom lip while making mike's two cups of coffee, adding the vanilla creamer in both as you wondered if it was too late for you to ask him out. ever since the first day that you met him, he has been all that you've thought about, and your crush on him was slowly morphing into something that was much deeper.

with the two coffees in hand, you shakily deliver them to mike's table, mustering a shaky enjoy before attempting to walk away. yet, it was mike that stopped you from leaving when he says your name out loud. "wait, don't go." you face him, confusion written all across your face as mike looks away from you. he says nothing, just keeping his furrowed brow on the two cups of coffee settled on the table. "what's wrong, mike?" your voice comes out patient and soft, waiting for him to tell you what was on his mind. you watch as his fingertips trace the rim of the coffee cup, hearing him clear his throat before continuing. "sorry, i'm really not good at any of this, at all, but abby told me i should make a move." abby? his sister?

you were given no chance to dwell on his words when he gestures at the second cup of coffee. "this one's for you, and i'm wondering if you'd like to...sit down and share a cup with me?" with a purse of your lips, your eyes scan the diner, seeing only a few customers enjoying their breakfast with ness organizing all of the condiments on the table. letting out a sigh, you give mike a nod and sit across the table from him.

a strange sense of relief was felt coursing through your veins now that you were across from mike. taking the cup of coffee (where now you knew was meant for you this whole time) you take a sip while trying to taste the subtle sweetness of the coffee mixed in with vanilla creamer-

yet all you could focus on was the smile mike held on his face. "i can't tell you how much...better i've been feeling lately." mike begins to tell you, looking down at his coffee with a fondness in his gaze. "it's just, these days...i really find myself looking forward to seeing you."

his words were so achingly sweet that you felt your heart melt, swearing that you were close to turning into putty. not realizing the change in your demeanor, mike leans forward to take a hold of your hand within his. "so, i was wondering..."

"could i...could i pick you up later tonight after your shift and invite you over for dinner? i've got the day off, and i feel like i need to return the favor for all the free treats you've been giving me these past couple of months." you would be a fool not to accept, so of course-

you said yes to his offer.

{...}

you were able to go home an hour early thanks to ness' urging. when you told your co-worker about mike inviting you to dinner, he became the best wingman a girl could ever ask for and told you that he could take over the closing shift. he teases you, of course, begging you to invite him to the wedding as you brushed off his words when you finally clocked out and met with mike. he was standing close to his sedan, dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans with a pair of sneakers. upon seeing your figure walking out of the diner, mike smiles at you, opening the passenger side of his door.

the moment you were in the car, you saw a girl with curly locks of dark brown hair coloring in her sketchbook. seeing the similarities between her and mike, you were quick to assume that this little girl was abby, mike's sister.

"hello, you must be abby. it's nice to meet you, i'm-"

abby then says your name, interrupting your introduction while still coloring in her sketchbook. "i know who you are. my brother talks about you all the time."

a mischievous smile was seen on abby's face, yet you felt flustered upon hearing her words. when mike enters the car, his hands were on the steering wheel as he looks back between you and abby. he seems to notice the change in your expression when he asks, "what happened? did i miss something?" "n-no! you didn't miss anything at all!" you reassure him with a smile on your face, yet was all too aware of abby's giggles from the back of the car. you hear something ripping from behind you as abby leans toward you, beckoning you to take the drawing from her hand. "mike's really shy, but i know he really likes you." "abby don't just-" the siblings begin to bicker back and forth, yet you couldn't hear them the moment you laid your eyes on the drawing in your hand. in it, the picture depicted you and mike holding hands in front of your diner with a big heart settled in between both of your figures. you smile to yourself and knew that this drawing was going to be your most beloved treasure. {...} the ride home was quick and uneventful, with mike telling abby to put her seatbelt back on as he drove home.

the moment you set foot within mike and abby's home, you were hit with the comforting scent of homemade meatloaf with mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese. the three of you shared heaping portions of food, making small talk about abby's school life and how she was doing so far. she faces mike while asking him, "can we take her to meet my friends later?" her question seems to make mike stiffen in response, with him taking a big swig of his class of water. "no, not now. maybe some other time, okay?" "but, i'm sure they'd really love her." "i'm sure they would too, but, not now, okay abby?"

"okay." there was a strange, melancholic expression that falls across her face, and you wondered just who her friends were. the rest of dinner became a little tense afterwards. when everyone had finished their meal, mike told abby to play in her room. "i'll clean up, so you go ahead and play as a reward for doing so well at school today." "okay!" abby gives you a knowing smile and a wink, before quickly darting off to her room. you had to shake off the feeling that abby was trying to set you up with mike as well, clearing your throat as you collected all of the dirty plates and utensils. "and i'll help you clean, mike. after all, that was a delicious meatloaf you cooked up. i ate every bit of it." mike's expression became sheepish once more as he took the plates and began washing them, "i'm glad you think so. to be honest with you, i'm still learning how to cook without relying on boxed meals, so it means a lot to me."

there was a comfortable silence settled between the two of you. as mike finished washing the dishes, you began drying them with a towel before setting them on the rack. when every plate and utensil had been washed and dried, you were left gazing up at mike. no words were spoken, yet you could feel yourself inching ever so closer to him. his warmth ensnared you, captivating you in the best of ways as mike placed the palm of his hand on your cheek. he whispers your name, sliding his eyes closed as he meets with your lips in a sweet kiss. with a soft moan, you kiss him back, allowing his chapped lips to perfectly slot against yours. you feel his hands at the back of your head, tangling his fingertips within your hair as he drew you closer to him.

as your chest met with his, you continued to bask in his sweet kiss. wanting, needing, and desperate for more. his taste was addicting, and you found yourself falling for him so deeply.

"mike, what's taking you so long-" abby's voice cuts through you, making you pull away from mike as you stared at the girl with wide eyes. abby looks between you and her brother and starts to giggle, "sorry for interrupting, take as long as you need!" she runs away once more, making you fall against mike with a groan. he chuckles, wrapping his arms around you while tracing his nose against the strands of your hair. "maybe it was a good thing that abby interrupted us, or else i never would have asked." you let out your own laughter in response. "ask what?" he pulls away from you, framing your face with his two hands while allowing the pads of his thumb to caress at your face. "will you be my girlfriend?"

you could feel a smile forming when you lean upwards to press your lips against his in another kiss, all while whispering to him, "but of course; for i would want nothing more than to be yours, mike schmidt."

a.n. - the fnaf movie was actually so cute and so much fun to watch, i loved it a lot too! this was written because mike schmidt deserves to be happy 🥹 he's been through so much! i apologize for any errors or mistakes, and will fix any errors/mistakes after posting.

this whole story was inspired by alicia key's 'you don't know my name,' so do give it a listen ♡

major edit notes 10/29/23 @11:30pm, changed matthew / matt's name to "ness," his canon character name in the movie.

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[l1tw1ck]

sub!bottom!sugarbaby!michael x dom!top!amab reader

[event request] | afab language used

CW: degradation, objectification, mirror sex, creampie

Michael was desperate for money, desperate enough that he agreed to become your sugar baby. In exchange for being able to pay for basic necessities, he gets his cunt pounded by you every Saturday.

“Look at you, bouncing on my cock so desperately..” You cup Michael’s cheeks and force him to look in the mirror in front of him. “Are you hoping to get some extra cash today? Or are you just a slut?”

You can feel his cheeks burn.

“‘M just a slut~” He moans. He wasn't very eager when your relationship first started but now? He loves this.

“That’s right, Mikey. You're just a slut.” You shove your fingers in his mouth and he happily sucks them. He focuses on your face, getting even more aroused by your expression. Mike’s words are muffled by your fingers but you know what he’s saying. He’s about to come. “Remember our bet? You can't come just yet, baby.” You remind him. If he can hold back until you give him permission, he’ll get a reward. Mike whines, trying his best to prevent his orgasm. He tries to think of something else but your cock feels too good to do that. You and him both know he can’t stop himself. He arches his back and squirts, squeezing your cock tightly. He stops moving completely and looks back at you.

“Looks like I won, sweetheart.”

You shove Mike’s face into the pillow, ramming into his soaked and overstimulated pussy with no signs of stopping. “I love fucking your slutty little cunt, you're always so damn wet for me.” You groan in pleasure. “And so fucking tight.”

Mike moans, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he drenches the pillow with drool and tears. He can barely breathe or think, he feels like he's floating. You lean into him. “You're the perfect pocket pussy, Mikey.” You groan, spilling your cum inside him. He shivers and has another orgasm. He never thought he’d like to hear that.

[bunnybunbun0]

Mikey is sooo the type of boyfriend to hold your hands while he fucks you.

You don´t even care on how roughly your back is pressed against the wall of a random storage room of fazbear´s,or about how his hard on is pressed insistently against your hip,not that you can when his mouth is so busy giving atention to your neck.

The open mouthed kisses on your neck were gentle,like the soothing feeling of his hand always gripping your delicate one. The grip suddenly gets tighter when the kisses that were taking gasps out of you turns into possessive bites,the both of you having the amazing feeling that youre being marked.

The only moment your eyes shot open is when his hand left yours,but only for a split second to grab your waist and pull you into his lap while he sits on a chair in the corner. You fail to stifle a needy whimper when he roughly presses your drenched pussy against his boner. His smirk shows you he didnt missed it.

"Youre liking this arent you?" His lips are toying with the lobe of your ear "Naughty girl" His low guttural chuckle ignites something in you.

"Please mikey..." Boy,he swears he will never get tired of his name coming out your pretty lips with a beg.

"Relax princess,ill give you just what you need."

And the last thing you recall befre being ravashed and getting absolutely cock drunk is his hands once more holding yours tenderly.

[kingsteve-more-like-dadsteve]

All y’all out here saying “Mike Schmidt is such a dom!” “Mike is really good at hiding how dominant he is!”

THAT MAN IS SUBMISSIVE AND I NEED TO SEE MORE OF THAT STFU

Like mommy issues? the nightmares? mans wants to be comforted, fight the wall. he wants to be told he’s a good boy and that he’s loved

LET MEN BE SUBMISSIVE 2023

[janitorhutcherson]

boyfriend!futturman headcanons!!

boyfriend!futturman would be sooooo clingy, but in a silly way. he’d love to follow you around, basically like a puppy at your heels. he would constantly have a hand on you, rather that was by holding onto the sleeve of your shirt or wrapping his arm around you, there would be constant contact. he was so obsessed with you that even when you showered or took a bath, he’d be close, like, seriously. very close. if he didn’t opt to shower or cram into the tub with you (very rare, typically when he’s already showered and can’t be bothered), he would instead either sit with his back leaning against the side of the tub. if you were enjoying a nice bubble bath, he’d sit on the ledge of the tub, massaging your shoulders.

boyfriend!futturman would sleep in, a little too much. first, you’d start off sweet. you’d press a kiss to his forehead as his alarm went off, his entire body still relaxed and passed out cold, loud snores that tended to annoy you on some nights (but you loved him, so you dealt with it) coming from his mouth. you’d try to entice him with sweet words, promising breakfast and a nice shower together. eventually you’d give up being sweet, having to violently shake his shoulders before he’d even creep his eyes open. sometimes, he’d doze off again. on mornings you could feel it coming, you’d lift your shirt up, revealing your bare chest. this always worked.

boyfriend!futturman who even though he was somewhat lazy at times would take you out on nice dates. sometimes they’d be on fancy dinners, sometimes on sweet picnics or to different festivals. he’d always dress up real nice, buying you a nice new dress with some money he’d saved up. he would be so sweet and gentlemanly, peppering you with kisses all night, dancing then night away with you.

[joshfutturman]

'i thought of you last night' 18+

oneshot - mike can't sleep, and you know exactly what will help. (3k words) pairing - mike schmidt (five night's at freddy's) + gn reader tags: established relationship, semi-needy mike, handjob, blowjob, cowgirl position, mike gets a TINY bit rough, he's lowkey desperate, dirty talk, creampie, mentions of mikes cute lil happy trail. tw: smut! minors dni 18+ only

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

michael couldn't sleep, a nasty result of lessening the use of his meds. it was his choice, but he couldn't help but curse every reason under the sun for his lack of ability to get to sleep. his eyes settle on the back of his eyelids for another few moments before tearing them open, a quiet rage settling deep in his bones.

despite the stillness of the room, the ringing persists in his ears growing in an increasingly irritating crescendo. his frustration grows to an almost unbearable level, his fists gradually clenching. why couldn't he just fucking fall asleep?

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

you stir beside him, mumbling in your sleep and scooting closer. your arm finds his, soft yet firm, and you nuzzle in, eyes opening just enough to see the outline of his fluffy hair in the darkness.

". . .can't sleep?" you eventually murmur, concern evident in your sleepy voice.

mike takes a few moments to answer, like he's contemplating something. "yeah." is all he says.

you frown, burying your face into the crook of his neck. "how long you been awake?" your breath tickles his skin, soft, causing goosebumps to ripple across his body.

he mumbles something, inaudible, before speaking up, "the whole time."

shoulders sagging, you press a tender, apologetic kiss to his neck. a relieved sigh escapes his lips in response, like he was holding it in from the moment he crawled into bed with you. you notice, and - testing the waters, you press your lips against his skin again.

mike raises an eyebrow in intrigue and grumbles. you feel the way his low tones rumble in his neck against your lips and it causes a spark to light in your belly. peppering slow, deliberate kisses all along the length of his neck, michael's breathing softens considerably. he knows what game you're playing. his boxers suddenly feel a little tighter.

"hey... you don't have-"

"i want to." you say firmly, cutting him off. you were well aware of mike's habit of falling asleep instantly after sex. it was almost impressive how fast he could doze off after finishing. you found it endearing and, frankly? a compliment to your skills. who needs sleeping pills when they have you?

he tries to groan in protest once more, mumbling something about how you should go back to sleep, that he's fine. but you don't listen, you have a job to do.

kissing up along his stubble-speckled jaw, you find his ear and place a soft kiss behind it. "shh. . ." you coo as your hand traces across his torso under the sheets, snaking down. . . lower, and lower until it meets the waistband of his boxers. you feel him give in as his body relaxes.

mike shudders beneath your touch, his brows knitting together as he closes his eyes. the way your touch is so gentle yet purposeful fills him with a need for you, thoughts of needing to sleep already long gone.

slowly, your hand slips beneath the thin material and you lift your head to watch his expression shift in the darkness, desperate to see how he reacts to your touch. eyes closed, mike's mouth falls open as you take him in your hand, already hard and throbbing for you. you almost hear the ghost of a moan leave his lips.

"hard already. . ." you whisper, eyes settling on his eyebrows that twitch with every inch that you move against him.

he can't even deny it, either. from the moment your lips touched his neck, mike felt his cock stiffen, mind dancing with images of you taking him nice and deep. god, you always felt so fucking good.

with his lack of response, you begin to pump him at a slow pace and he gasps. his soft huffs into the air are adorable, watching him as he desperately tries to keep his composure. but how can he? your hands are on him and he melts just as he does every time.

"you know, i'd do this for you every night if you'd let me. . ." you smirk, leaning in to kiss along his jaw once more, smiling at the way his stubble prickles your skin.

mike swallows, fuck. he'd never admit it, but he'd love that. his eyes open to find yours, reaching over to cup your cheek with his calloused hands. he wants to thank you, but at the risk of sounding pathetic, he refrains. hand drifting across your cheek, he threads his fingers through your hair to the back of your head, pulling you in hungrily.

you smile, lips connecting as your mouth opens to welcome his tongue. melting against one another, mike finds his grip on your hair tightening instinctively. in turn, you pick up the pace with your hand. he mumbles a 'fuck' into your mouth, his free hand gripping the sheets.

his dick twitches in your grasp, growing harder through every stroke as precum coats his begging tip. he needs you, now.

pulling back, mike whispers breathlessly, "get on top." - it's not a command, but almost - that same frustration from being unable to sleep crawling back into his tone.

"but i'm having so much fun right here. . ." you grin. you could never give up the chance to tease mike, not when he looks this cute, not when he's practically bucking into your hand.

he lowers his eyebrows, a look that might scare anyone else but not you. "c'mon." is all mike says, but it's all he needs to say, voice low and gravely. he's so close to sounding needy, and you'd travel to the ends of the earth and back just to hear him beg for you.

"you sound so cute when you try to act tough," snickering, you pull your hand from his length and he hisses at the loss of contact. you've got better plans.

sitting up, you strip the sheets back from him, admiring the way his dick creates an inviting tent in his boxers. you love seeing the evidence of his desire for you. mike? not so much. his cheeks burn red, propping himself up on his elbows as he struggles to make you out in the dark. he's looking up at you through those thick eyelashes of his, hazel eyes drooping like a puppy.

it's cute, how concerned he looks, like he should be doing more - like he wants to do more.

arching a leg over him, you straddle his body, sighing softly as your crotch comes into contact with his hardened length through his boxers. he feels so stiff beneath you, your hands pressing into his chest for support. the thin material separating you is driving him insane.

ignoring his silent protesting, you begin to rock yourself against his dick, gasping gently. he does too, leaning back with a huff as his hands rest on your thighs. he takes a moment to squeeze them, relishing the feeling of your warm, soft skin, before trailing up to your hips. his hands are strong, firm, gripping you with hazy, lust-filled eyes. the way you move against him has him seeing stars, head going blank, all he could think about was you.

he can't help but moan at the friction, rolling his hips up to meet your lazy motions. but it only served to make him want you more. dry humping wasn't going to cut it. he needs to be deep inside you, thoughts of filling you up with cum clouding his mind. his cheeks flush at the filth of it all. only you could make him think this way.

you moan into the air of his bedroom, quiet and inviting to him, encouraging mike yet also teasing him. desire builds in your core, his thick length teasing your aching hole through your underwear with each roll of your hips.

the room fills with your soft gasps, the bed creaking below with the pressure and movement. night passes outside of his bedroom, the world unaware of just how badly he needs to fuck you.

"please. . ." mike finally whines, looking up at you with those pleading, soulful eyes of his. and it almost breaks you, feeling a surge of heat growing in your core.

your breath almost hitches in your throat, "you want it?" you ask, knowing the answer.

"please. . ." mike repeats, his grip on your hips tightening in response to his growing need for you - his need to have you, to have you call his name, to have him call yours, to fuck you.

you smile, "i love it when you let me take care of you. . ."

with those words, you inch backwards, slipping out of your underwear. mike keeps his hands on your hips the whole time. watching, he bites his lip as you're revealed to him. "fuck, baby. . ." he mumbles under his breath.

that makes you smile, you love the way he reacts to you, his eyes drifting across your body like it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen - because it is.

now it's his turn. you take your time pulling down his boxers, mouth-watering as his girthy cock springs free. you can't resist. you never could. shuffling from his grasp, you bring your head down to his crotch, eyes locked on his all the while.

he observes you with bated breath, mouth agape. and when your lips make contact with his dick, his eyes roll back and he runs his fingers through his hair, gripping the curls that find their place at the front of his scalp.

you kiss along his tip before running your tongue along the length, his body jerking faintly as he struggles to contain his breathing. then, you take him all in, agonisingly slowly.

mike whines, loudly, and you moan against his cock. this only encourages him more, feeling the way your voice vibrates around him. his free hand finds your head blindly as his eyes are squeezed shut, raking his fingers through your hair.

he mutters incomprehensible praises, petting your hair before tensing his grasp as you pick up the pace. you can tell he won't last long if you keep this up from how he's acting. mike is practically writhing beneath you, a whimper fighting its way out of his lips despite his best efforts to keep it contained. those noises he's making, you want them looped forever.

that's when you know it's time.

you pull back, letting his now slick cock fall from your mouth. his eyes burst open and he snaps his head down to you. fuck, were you finally gonna fuck him? you smile at his expression and lift yourself upright once more.

you feel his wet cock glide against you as you position yourself over him, both letting out a gasp at the sensation.

mike wastes no time in grabbing your hips roughly, "need to feel you. . ." he whispers.

you smirk, trying to keep your composure despite how badly you want to feel him plunge inside of you. "sh. . ." you hush him, rocking your hips a few more times back and forth.

and then, you begin to slowly sink down on his length. your hand finds his shoulder for support, your other hand gripping at the bottom of his shirt. a moan escapes you, breathy. mike stays silent for a few moments, overcome with the feeling of you tight around him, until a groan grumbles from his lips. his eyes dart down to watch as he disappears inside of you, his length filling you up perfectly.

slowly, he bottoms out inside of you and you instinctively clench around him causing him to dig his fingers into your hips. "you're- oh fuck, you're so fucking tight." mike hums.

you nod, brows lowering as you lift yourself gradually, feeling his cock ease out and then back in as you drop. a wet smack fills the room and you suppress a loud moan. the slow pace allows you to adjust, but mike is desperate. he pants softly, his hips bucking up to meet your thrusts causing him to dive deeper inside you.

it feels so fucking good. your eyes connect with his as you continue the slow rhythm together, his eyes staring into yours as he pushes his cock upwards into you.

god, and he looks so fucking pretty like this - his curls a mess, forehead slightly damp with sweat, the blue-tinted moonlight pouring in through his bedroom window, illuminating him just enough to see that lustful, dreamy expression on his face as you fuck.

you inch his shirt up enough to gaze at his adorable fuzzy happy trail along his soft stomach, admiring the way his body jolts with each thrust.

mike gazes at you through hooded lids, mouth open as quiet moans spill from him over and over. but he needs to go faster, this pace won't cut it. desire swirls in the base of his stomach, his hips itching to increase his speed, cock aching for more.

you want it too. you'd fucked mike enough times to know what he needed without him even having to say - you begin to increase your pace, bouncing on his length a little faster.

and he smiles, biting his lip in satisfaction as he slams upwards into you, gripping you so hard you think it might leave bruises. but you don't fucking care, how could you? more evidence of how into you he is, part of you wanted the bruises.

the cheap bed creaks, hitting against the wall behind it with each deep thrust. he's moaning louder now, and suddenly he's sitting up to wrap his arms around your waist, pistoning up into you. this takes you by surprise, resting your arms over his shoulders as you look down at him, mouth stuck in an 'o' shape.

he leans in to kiss along your collarbones as he works, feeling your tightness build as you throw your head back. his speed is relentless, primal, like he's fucking out his frustrations - contrasted with the way his lips are so lovingly, hungrily dancing across your tender skin.

with each slam of his hips against yours, you feel him impossibly deep, loving the way he takes charge when he's desperate for release. he's gliding in and out with ease, taking you in the best way. your eyes flutter closed, moaning his name sweetly.

in return, he moans yours against your skin, pulling back to look up at you. "look at me. . " he whispers between gasps, a begging tone.

you oblige and open your eyes to look down at him, watching as he fucks you fervently, eager to please you. once again, you're struck with how fucking pretty he is, you'd say it a million times until he believes you, eyeing the way his curls bounce with each thrust. the intensity and focus of his dark eyes lock into yours, almost like he wants to be told he's doing a good job.

leaning down, you kiss him slowly, passionately, half to muffle the sounds dripping from your lips and half in an attempt to somehow get closer to him. it's like you couldn't get enough. it wasn't enough that he was inside, you wanted more somehow. you always did.

but it's not long before you feel his thrusts quicken, his kissing growing sloppy as he chases that high. he tears himself away from the kiss, wrapping his arms around you tighter as he pushes you down over and over on his cock.

"i'm gonna-" he begins to say.

you cut him off with a moan, "i know, baby."

he muffles his moans by kissing along your neck, leaving a trail of desperate hickies as he feels his thighs tighten. each little nip had you arching your back, burying a hand in his hair as he savours the taste of you on his lips.

and you were close too, orgasm rising, threatening to tip you over the edge. "cum in me, please, mike." you plead, aching for him to fill you.

his breath ragged, he pulls back from your neck to look up at you as his eyes begin to glaze over. his thrusts begin to falter, pace becoming uneven as the pleasure begins to cloud every part of him. all he can focus on? is how fucking tight you feel, how his cock fits so perfectly inside you like you were made for him, how fucking beautiful you look bouncing on him like that.

he lets out a low breathy moan as he finally releases deep inside of you, coating your insides as he fucks it in deeper and deeper. your orgasm weaves through you, causing you to clamp around him in response as his white hot cum fills you completely. you're both a moaning, writhing mess as you ride out your orgasms in sync, lips inches from one another as the pace slows gradually.

after a few moments, mike falls backwards onto the bed, his cock still twitching inside of you as you take in every last drop. you lay on him, trying to catch your breath as you find comfort in the rising and falling of his chest with each heaving breath.

"that was. . ." mike mumbles, voice groggy, "holy shit."

you reply with a slow nod and a mumble of approval, eyes closed, relishing in the feeling of him slowly beginning to leak out of you.

pressing a kiss to his chest, you bring your head up to look at him. already, his eyes are closing, mouth open, breathing slowing - mike is already falling asleep. and you can't help but smile. he looks so peaceful like this, even with his damp curls and reddened cheeks.

"goodnight, mikey." you whisper, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. he replies with a grumble and a soft snore.

in the morning, you know mike will offer to return the favour. you grin at the thought as you settle slowly into sleep.

round two will be fun.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. ‧₊˚ dedicated tags: @helen-on-earth @fatinhadesiners06 @sleepyhutcherson @laurrrelise @sun-spider13 @sammygirlism @boonam ‧₊˚ ily!! .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

[charlottecutepie]

ᡣ𐭩 His least favourite colour (Michael Afton x fem!reader)

Summary: Teenage Michael has a messy mullet that he cut himself and a piercing on his lower lip that he did the hell knows where. But he's dressed like a rock star: a black leather jacket and ripped jeans, a million chains, only a guitar is missing, and you already know what his birthday present will be.

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, romantic elements, Michael is flirty and weird, 1980s, abusive William, daddy issues, mentions of death, psychology, little bit of fluff, traumatized Michael, Michael has a mullet

Michael is the first kid in the Afton family. Michael grew up surrounded by the love of his mother, but never of his father. Since he was born, William has shown no affection for him. And little boy never understood why, if he seemed to have everything William wanted. After all, he was very interested in mechanics and robotics, he always begged his father to show him how he creates these wonders of technology. But William, being a disgusting father, never did this, refused to do it. When Elizabeth was born, Michael was initially happy that he had a sister. The young man always took care of her and played with her until he noticed that his father behaved way differently with her than with him.

And it caused him heartache. He watched them and didn't understand why he didn't deserve the same. And his mother, as it seemed to him, cared about the little girl more than about him. That's what offended Michael the most: he felt as if his mother had replaced him with Elizabeth, all the toys were bought just for her, all her whims were fulfilled in one second, she was never even punished. Is that even fair?

That's when his youthful maximalism manifested itself. Michael started running away from home and skipping classes. And he knew perfectly well that William didn't like it, and he was doing it to spite him, trying to get revenge for horrible treatment.

But it only made it worse for Michael, because he was always caught and punished, or worse, his most beloved game console was taken away. William began to apply more and more punishments to him, taking away pocket money or grounding him for the whole weekend. But most of all, Michael never understood his mother: why did she let all this happen? Why did she always turn a blind eye to what her husband was doing?

“Does your father know that you smoke?” you ask, giving him a light. Michael puts his hands in his pockets and shakes his head. You're both not dating, but you're pretty close to it. You met at some rock concert where some random guy was trying to molest you, and Michael punched him right in the face, breaking his nose. It was in front of everyone's eyes, and after that, Michael was finally noticed by a group of "cool" teenagers. You didn't like them because they were nothing more than bullies, but Michael never listened to you.

“Does your mom know who you're so pretty for?”

“You fool.” you smile and roll your eyes. Michael may be a fool, but he always manages to embarrass you with his stupid flirts.

Teenage Michael has a messy mullet that he cut himself and a piercing on his lower lip that he did the hell knows where. But he's dressed like a rock star: a black leather jacket and ripped jeans, a million chains, only a guitar is missing, and you already know what his birthday present will be.

…

Michael got used to Elizabeth because you putted into his head that it wasn't her fault, and she's just a kid like himself. It's the fault of his parents, who don't know how to give equal love to both, the fault of his idiotic dad, who thinks he can raise his son by beating him. Michael agreed with you, and the two of you never talked about it again.

“Did you get into a fight again?” you're like a mom to him and at the same time already a girlfriend. “What kind of kindergarten is this?”

“It wasn't me, they started it.” Michael's kindergarten will probably never leave him. “What? I'm telling the truth!”

He's sitting in your kitchen eating hot soup like he's been starving for ages. You know that's not true, but his diet is really terrible, all those snacks and sodas, why is it so hard to eat normal food? And Michael told you why. Because his father went so far as not to allow his son to have lunch or breakfast with family. William only allowed his wife and Elizabeth to sit at the same table with him, but as soon as he sees Michael, he points to the door, like, "get the hell out of here." And when Michael later comes to the kitchen to eat, William pours all the remaining food into the toilet in front of him.

…

Michael's eyes are so wide and huge after the news that his mother is pregnant with another, third child. He doesn't know how to react, in panic he runs to your house and tells you about it. You didn't understand much yourself, but you tried to assure him that maybe this third child would be a turning point. Maybe after he's born, William will change. But you don't believe yourself.

How sad that you were wrong. Evan gets more attention than even Elizabeth, but however she doesn't mind. Unlike Michael, she runs around the baby all day, trying to entertain him. Evan likes his sister's company, but when Michael arrives, something clicks in the little boy's head, and he becomes quiet, not talkative, as if Michael scares him. But in fact, Evan is more afraid of his brother and William's argues than Michael himself. And when these turn into fights, Evan becomes hysterical and runs to hide in the closet of his room. William is well aware that Michael started showing his fangs a long time ago, but when he says something to him in an aggressive tone or slams the door too loudly, the man can't help himself.

“Michael, don't you dare bully Evan.” you're mad at your boyfriend because he came to you with his proud face again as he made his little brother cry again. “God, how many times have I explained to you, this is a kid. You're only ruining his psyche!”

Michael just clenches his teeth and his fists. He's as angry as you are, of course he knew you wouldn't pat him on the head for it, but why are you protecting this pathetic boy?

Michael hates his father, he is angry that he cannot respond to his reproaches and provocations like a "real man", so he takes out all his aggression on Evan. Michael is a coward.

…

Michael cries, punches the walls and swears at himself. He couldn't forgive his father for killing his sister, but what Michael never thought about was that it would happen to Evan, too. With fucking Evan. Who could have even known that Fredbear’s jaw would shut?! Michael couldn't move as he watched the little child's head being torn apart. He heard that hideous, ugly sound of a skull splitting, which still haunts him in nightmares.

In his nightmares, he runs to save Evan, to pull him out of the animatronic's grip, but he can't do anything. He fails because his father holds his hand tightly enough that Michael feels a phantom touch when he wakes up. William holds his wrist and laughs, preventing him from saving his brother, while Evan dies for the hundredth time. This is repeated every night.

Michael is no longer a rock star. Michael is depressed and needs psychological help.

Michael cut off his idiotic mullet and threw out all his leather jackets with ripped jeans, took off his piercings. But at least now Michael has the guitar you gave him for his birthday. That one is now lying dusty in the corner of his room, where Michael never goes. He just stopped showing up at his father's house, yes, not at his house, but at his father's house. Because this was never Michael's house.

Michael still smiles only at you and tries to make stupid flirts, but they don't bother you anymore. Instead, they are disturbing, worrying you.

Michael has lost everyone except you.

“When I die, I'm sure you'll be my devil in hell. Know why? Because you're hella hot, baby.“ Michael makes a sound like laughter.

You're trying to put on your face something like a smile.

Michael is so young, and he's already joking about death. But Michael wouldn't joke about death if he wasn't already dead.

Michael died in 1983. He died after his sister and brother.

“You're going to marry me, right? When we get out of here and move to another state.” There's uncertainty in his voice.

“Of course.” you don't believe him, of course not. “I love you very much.” you hold him close to you, stroke his hair and try your best to hope that everything will be fine.

…

Michael loves to kiss you, hug you, cuddle, rub his nose against yours, lying in your bed. Michael's body is still warm, that means he's still alive. Michael still has a headache, he can still bleed, he can still catch a cold, he still has an appetite. Michael is still alive, and that's all that matters to you.

Michael prefers not to tell where his mother disappeared, he just says that she divorced William immediately after Elizabeth's death. Yes, she divorced William and left her own son with this monster, Michael still thinks it's impossible. He's just scared to think differently, he's afraid, so he makes it up to make it easier.

“You're going to love me even if I’ll smell like a piece of shit, right?“ Michael is weird. He asks you about it almost every day, even though he never smells bad.

“Michael, my love,” you know you have to be kind to him, no matter what idiotic questions he asks. You really love him very much, but sometimes these questions take you by surprise. “even if you turn into a living walking corpse, I’ll still love you.”

Michael chuckles, his nightmares telling otherwise.

…

Michael has grown up, now he works as a night guard. He hates his job, but he can't tell you why he's working there. He just makes excuses by saying that he gets paid a lot of money.

It's Michael's stupid habit of keeping everything inside. You know that's not the reason, you know there's something wrong with your boyfriend, but as soon as he comes home early in the morning, exhausted, you don't dare ask him anything.

Michael hates purple colour.

Sometimes you feel like you're distancing from each other because he disappears all night at work and then sleeps at home all day. But you still love him very much and hope that one day you will both get married. But Michael begs you, in case of a wedding, not to wear a purple dress. Any colour, but not purple.

You're starting to worry about Michael's physical health. Michael refuses to eat and kiss. Michael wears more oversized clothes, even though it's damn hot outside. Michael says he's going to sleep in the other room on the couch. One night you try to check if Michael is really asleep.

No, he's not.

Michael hides his face from you and doesn't go out much. Michael doesn't shower, he doesn't even wash his hands.

All of this scares you, you don't understand what happened to your boyfriend. These sudden changes happened too quickly. You try to talk to him, but Michael's voice sounds strange. He doesn't even turn his head when he talks to you.

The smell in the house is becoming more and more terrible, almost unbearable. You've already thrown out all the garbage, done the general cleaning, even poisoned non-existent insects.

You can't take it anymore, so you're trying to clear it up. When Michael comes home, you're already standing in the hallway waiting for him. Your boyfriend is surprised, he hides his face in a mask and tries to sneak into another room.

“Darling, stop avoiding me, please!” you try approach him, hug him. Michael pulls away. You notice that the smell comes from him, not from the house. “What's been going on with you lately?”

Michael is tired of living like this, avoiding you. He wants to feel your touch again, wants to kiss you, wants to go back to bed with you, wants to cook with you, wants to dream with you about your future wedding. Which will never happen.

“Promise me you won't run away.” his voice is scary, sounds like a robotic one. You nod. And that's when Michael finally takes off these damn clothes, takes off his… wig, sunglasses and mask. He opens his soul to you again, if he still has it, of course.

You don't really know how to comment on what's in front of you. It's Michael, but at the same time it's not him. It's a skeleton covered in skin. He has no teeth, there’s terrifying white pupils burn in his empty eye sockets.

“I can't believe it's you... what... what even happened?” you're surprised you can say anything at all after such a shock.

He's not answering. His dead white pupils pierce into yours, alive ones. Michael does hates purple and how cruelly life has treated him, painting his skin this cadaverous color.

“I smell like a piece of shit, right?” Michael tries to smile, even though he doesn't have to try. His jaw was permanently frozen in a deadly grin. “Y/n… You remember what you told me, right?”

You nod. “Even if you turn into a living walking corpse, I’ll still love you.” you remember and dont give up your words.

“I still love you, Michael.” as sad as it may sound, but it’s truth, you really love Michael and you can't imagine life without him. “I… I promise I will never leave you.”

Michael sighs with relief. You finally want to hug him, but he pulls away again and waves his hand as a sign that he smells like a corpse. You don't care, you've been through too much in the last few days, and now you just want to feel his body next to you again, even if it's fucking smelly and cold. You pull him closer and try not to breathe. You get a shock from yourself because you're hugging a literally dead person. But there is only one thing…

Michael didn’t die right now, he died back in 1983.

[kazuiislazy]

“Letting Off Some Steam.”

!! SMUT AHEAD !! MDNI PLS >:( !!

A/N: Also, first time writing smut, haha.. uh.. sorry if it's like a lil bad..

Warnings: oral (f receiving), praise?, overstimulation.

You looked at the curly haired man (namely: your boyfriend) hidden in between your thighs, lapping your pussy like his life depended on it. “Mmh, s-shit.. Mike,” You stuttered, gripping at his hair and pulling it. He moaned into you, sending vibrations throughout your body.

A few hours earlier:

The sound of the door opening and closing had woken you up. You were greeted by your boyfriend’s exhausted smile. “Hey, sweetheart,” He walked over to you, kissing your forehead. “Long night?” You asked. “..Yeah, as usual..” He sighed, sitting next to you– placing his hand on your thigh. Your mind came up with something absolutely.. lustful. But, could you blame yourself?

“Wanna release some steam?” you suggested.

And here you are now, squirming in Mike’s hold as he pulled your third orgasm from you. “..Ah.. that- that’s.. enough,” you sighed. “Can’t..” He looked up at you and gave you puppy dog eyes. Oh, he was pulling that move now, was he? “C’mon.. please..” He wasn’t sure what he was begging for. “Just.. one more,” he whined against your thigh.

How could you possibly say no to that? He buried himself back into your cunt. “Ah.. fuck! So good– it’s.. s-so.. fucking good,” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “You’re doing such a good job, such a g-good.. boy,” He let out a desperate whimper into your cunt. Not before long, you felt a knot tighten in your stomach.

“Mike.. gonna cum– fuck–” You threw your head back, hands rushing to grip his hair. Your thighs clamped around his head as he moaned in satisfaction. “Fuck–” The knot got tighter before it eventually snapped. You’re pretty sure you blacked out for a second.

Your boyfriend detached from your pussy, face covered in your juices. He gave another set of puppy dog eyes. “Uhm.. do you think you could do that for another round..?” Ah, shit. This was gonna be a long night.

[gogogodzilla]

Easy Mornings

mike schmidt x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, unprotected sex, creampie, hair pulling, mike’s POV, almost getting caught, i know the majority voted for a different way this could go, but i already had this one started (sorry y'all, that one is coming soon) part 1 ✩ part 2 ✩ main masterlist ✩ read on ao3

Mike gripped the steering wheel with an iron grip for the entire drive home, excitement buzzing throughout his body. Your panties weighed heavy in his front pocket, now covered his cum. 

His hands shook as he pulled into the driveway. He wondered how he’d find you. Would you be buried under the covers of his bed, one of his old t-shirts just barely covering your modesty? He’d gently pull the covers off of your sleeping form, exposing yourself to him. His breath would catch in his throat as he took in your figure and his hands would trail up your bare thighs. 

His mind got lost in the possibilities as his hands rested on the steering wheel. He shook his head, attempting to rid himself of thoughts of you at least long enough for him to get in the front door. 

His keys jingled softly against the lock and he breathed in the scent of freshly-brewed coffee. You had your back turned to him, leaning over the kitchen table and scanning over one of your textbooks. 

You clutched your coffee mug in your hand and took a sip, not noticing his presence. Morning sunlight shone gently through the windows, illuminating the kitchen and bathing you in a soft glow. You were wearing one of his old t-shirts, just as he thought. You looked heavenly in this light, and Mike would have the image burned into his mind forever. 

He set his bag quietly down by the door and padded closer to you. You jumped as he wrapped his arms around your center and tugged you closer to him. His hands gripped your hips and held you in place as his lips moved on their own accord and trailed down your neck. 

He could practically feel your grin as you hummed, leaning into him. “Did you enjoy what I packed for you?”

His grip tightened on your hips as he pulled you into his growing bulge. He breathed in your scent, taking in the moment alone with you. 

“Sure did,” he hummed against your skin. “I think I’ll enjoy the real thing a bit more.” 

His hands drifted down your body and under your shirt, skirting over the bare skin of your thighs. He lets out a satisfied noise as his fingertips trailed over your ass. You were bare for him, your panties still sitting snugly in his front pocket. 

One of his hands drifted down and across the backs of your thighs to run his middle finger through your folds. You let out a small gasp at his touch and pushed your hips against him, already needy for him. His fingertip grazed across your clit, and his lips attached to your neck once again. 

“Mike,” you whimpered softly, attempting to keep your voice down. Abby was due to be woken up soon. 

His finger dipped in your entrance before returning to your clit, and your frustrated groan was interrupted by him sliding inside of you. He slowly pumped it before allowing his pointer finger to join it, stretching you divinely.  He removed his other hand from your hip to draw lazy figure-eights across your clit, earning him one of those pretty moans he loved to hear. 

Mike removed his hand from your clit to work at undoing the button of his pants and tugging the zipper down. He removed his fingers from your dripping core and slipped them past his lips, sighing at the taste. 

“Gotta be quiet, baby,” he murmured against your ear as he freed his painfully hard cock from his boxers. You hurriedly nodded as he dragged his cock through your folds, gathering your slick. His grip tightened on your hip as he was already getting lost in the feeling of you. You both let out soft moans as his tip bumped your clit before moving back to tease your entrance. 

You jutted your hips against his, “Mike.”

He answered you by angling his cock up to your entrance and slowly pushing inside of you. He barely met any resistance as your pussy greedily swallowed him whole, and he let out a low groan. 

He presses his palm against the space between your shoulder blades, nudging you to bend over the kitchen table for him. You pushed your textbook and coffee cup out of the way. He lifted your shirt to get a good view of the way you were taking him like you were made for him.

You arched your back as he started to move his hips against yours. Your walls fluttered and clenched around him, and he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to last. You felt divine against him as always, and he gripped your ass. 

“Ah— fuck, baby. Taking me so good.” 

Your arms moved upward to support yourself as he thrust into you, fingernails digging into the wooden surface of the table. You let out a satisfied moan at his words, and he felt you clench around him. 

You stood on your tiptoes, allowing him to hit the spot inside you that had you squirming against him and mewling. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the moans that were escaping you, and the desire to kiss you nearly overwhelmed him. 

He ran his fingers through the hair at the base of your neck and pulled you so your back was flush against his chest. He gripped your chin and turned your head so he could put his lips against yours. The angle was awkward, but he didn’t care. You didn’t seem to either as you reached back and tugged his hair, pulling him closer. 

He jutted his hips deeper inside of you, and the familiar coil formed in his belly. He pressed hurried kisses against the side of your neck, nipping at your earlobe just to keep you on your toes. He reached around you and rubbed tight circles around your clit. You whined loudly and he clamped a hand across your mouth. 

He shushed you as he increased his pace, “Fuck… Gotta be quiet, baby.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenching as he became lost in the sensation of you. He was hanging by a thread, but he wanted to feel you cum around him. The thought had been driving him insane all night, and he needed it. 

The kitchen filled with the sound of his hips slapping against yours and the slight shake of the table from his thrusts. The chance of getting caught spurred him to drive his cock deeper inside you with every thrust, earning a high-pitched mewl muffled by his palm. 

Your entire body tensed against him as you came hard around his cock, squeezing him just right. His hips stuttered against you as his orgasm rapidly approached. 

With a final, deep thrust of his hips, he was cumming inside you. His release painted your insides, and he let out a low groan as he continued to ride out both of your orgasms. 

After a few more drags of his hips, he stilled within you, panting. Slowly, he pulled his cock out of you and watched how his cum dripped over your puffy folds. 

Muffled footsteps originated from Abby’s room, and the both of you straightened. He hurried to right himself, and you had just enough time to tug your shirt down to cover yourself before Abby came padding out of her room. 

“Hey, Abs,” you greeted as you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and picked up your coffee cup. You stood with your legs crossed, watching as she entered the kitchen. 

Mike attempted to appear casual as he commented, “You’re up early.”

Abby shrugged, furrowing her brows, “A loud noise woke me up, but I’m not sure what it was.”

Mike’s eyes widened as he met your equally embarrassed gaze. 

You set your mug down, “I’m gonna go get dressed.” 

Your footsteps were hurried as you made your way to Mike’s room. He grinned at the thought of his cum dripping out of you and down your thighs. 

He moved toward the fridge as Abby sat at the kitchen table, “How ‘bout I make you some breakfast?”

[ghxstlike]

you shut my mouth (and buckle my knees)

pairing: mike schmidt/gn!reader

content: reader is michael's next door neighbor, mike is so awkward, mike has social anxiety & is bad at words, reader is so oblivious, reader is 19 & mike is 20/21, reader has daddy issues, fluff, this takes place before the events in the movie, no use of y/n.

summary: mike’s been avoiding you recently, and you automatically think he’s mad at you. when babysitting abby, she tells you the truth about his feelings about you.

author's note: the title is a lyric from ‘i want to be with you’ by chloe moriondo! also!! the fnaf movie is AMAZING and it’s one of my favorite movies now. this is cross posted on ao3!! enjoy :)

he’s never this quiet.

he’s always somewhat quiet, yeah, but not deathly silent. and he usually doesn’t avoid you, either.

being a babysitter is something you never expected when you moved into the house right next mike’s. you moved in about a year ago with your mom, due to her divorce with your dad. your dad wasn’t the greatest man, nor the best dad. he never left, but he was never involved in your life. so, your mom was pretty much a single mom. your mom wanted to move far away from your dad, landing up in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

a few days after moving in, your mom introduced you to mike and his little sister abby. the first time you’ve ever seen mike was…awkward, to say the least. you could tell mike wasn’t very comfortable in the conversation at first, with the way he swung back and forth on his heels. you, on the other hand, couldn’t focus with the most hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life standing in front of you. you loved the shade of brown his eyes were, they reminded you of a beautiful forest in the fall, late at night.

mike voiced to you both about how his recent babysitter wasn’t returning his calls and wasn’t showing up, so you stepped up to be abby’s new babysitter. you’re glad you did, since now you’re able to do fun things during the day and not sit in your room reading some lame book. you don’t get paid much, but that was the least of your worries.

now, you’re in the kitchen cleaning dishes. it was about 8 pm, so abby was already fast asleep. you and abby baked cookies and there was already a huge mess. in the middle of mixing the wet and dry ingredients together to make a dough, abby pinched up a bit of flour and threw it at you. you looked up at her with an exaggerated gasp and a hand over your heart. to play with her little charade, you grabbed a tiny bit and threw in her direction. the fight of throwing flour between the two of you suddenly stopped as mike walked through the door. a feeling of guilt ran through your body when you realized what you’ve done, but there was still a huge smile on your face as you waved at him.

ever since then, he’s been sitting on the couch watching some sort of old cartoon. he usually stays in the kitchen with you, sitting at the table and talking about your day with abby. out of seemingly no where, mike stopped this routine. it bummed you out, obviously, but you didn’t want to force him to talk to you.

you sigh, grabbing the green and yellow sponge that was placed next to the sink. your mind began to wander, thinking about earlier that day. you feel terrible, but you just wanted abby to have a bit of fun. you shouldn’t have let it go that far.

you know how it feels to start something fun, and have it end up with your body filling with shame and embarrassment. especially at abby’s age. the last thing you want abby to feel is embarrassment from an adult. you also never wanted mike to be mad at you, but you have a slight feeling he already is.

you sigh again as you realize you haven’t apologized to mike about what he walked into. you bite your lip, turning around to see mike still sitting on the couch, eyes fixated on the TV.

you gently place the remainder of the dishes in the dishwasher, then quietly walk over to mike. you sit on the same couch as him, but on the other end of it. you look down at your lap, your eyes tracing the all the lines in your palm. after a few moments of being silent yourself, you speak up.

“mike?” you say in a hushed voice. his response was almost immediate.

he hums, eyes flicking to you and back at the screen. “yeah?”

his flat, low voice always made you feel warm inside. making your heart and stomach flutter with butterflies. but this time, the warmth that his voice brings goes directly down to your stomach, twisting it with anxiety. his whole presence made you feel giddy, like you were in high school with a newly founded crush. you swallow thickly before you speak again.

“i just wanted to apologize for earlier.” you pause, trying to find the right words to say and not mess this up. you want mike to speak to you, you want mike to spend time with you, you just miss him. “i-i shouldn’t have let it get that far.” you murmur.

mike doesn’t say anything at first, he just looks over at you again and nods. “you’re good.”

your stomach churns at his dry response. you nod at him, wiping your clammy hands on your jean-clad knees. “i should get going,” you say under your breath. again, mike doesn’t respond. he just watches you walk to the door, putting on your shoes in a hurry.

mike runs a hand through his curly hair, trying to figure out what he wants to say. he wants to say something, atleast a goodnight, but nothing comes out. you were too busy tying up your shoes to notice his conflicting face.

you open the front door of mike’s home and look over your shoulder. “have a good night, mike.” you say with a smile. mike’s hand does a slight wave, not returning the smile. you shut the door quietly, feeling absolutely crushed.

one of mike’s hands run down his face, hating himself for not saying something before you left. he also hated the way his heart clenched as you looked so sad when you walked out the door. “god dammit.” he grumbled to himself.

days have passed from that night. mike is still avoiding you, and being extremely quiet around you. you know it’s just you he’s being quiet around, since you hear him arguing with abby when you enter his home in the afternoon. just the thought of mike being mad at you pains you to your core, so much so that you avoid him yourself. you feel absolutely terrible, but stirring the pot could make it worse.

mike obviously notices your recent behavior, but didn’t say anything about it. instead, he’d think about it deeply when he’s in bed late at night. for weeks, he’d sleep terribly, just staying up all night figuring out what to say to you to make things better. he misses talking to you, he misses hearing your beautiful laughter and how your eyes sparkle with life when you talk about your interests.

today wasn’t very eventful, it was rather peaceful. you and abby sat at the dinner table, drawing each other pictures and talking. you noticed a drawing she was finished with and picked it up. it seemed to be you, mike, and abby all holding hands in front of a house. you smile softly, glancing up at abby, who’s doodling away with a yellow crayon. you look back down at the artwork and notice a small detail between the drawing of you and mike.

“abs?” you call out, not looking up from the paper. you hear a quiet clank as abby set down her crayon.

“yes?” she looks up at you, a slight smile apparent on her face. you set down the paper and slide it over to her. she looks down at her art, then back up at you.

“what’s up with the heart between me and mike?” you question, your stomach filling with nerves.

abby shrugs, the smile on her face never faltering as she talks. “he likes you, duh.” she giggles.

you sit up straight as your eyes widen. “what?” you whisper. your mind is running wild with all sorts of thoughts- he likes you?

“mike talks about you all the time,” she explains, picking up the yellow crayon again. “i hear him talking to himself about how-”

“abby.”

both of your heads snap toward the front door. it’s mike, he seems angry; his face is a slight pink and his hand is tightly clutching onto his bookbag that’s slung over his shoulder. abby quickly gathers up all of her art supplies that were scattered across the table and flees to her room, giggling loudly. you watch her run, smiling at her cute antics.

you hear a chair being pulled out and see that mike is sitting across from you. the picture of the three of you remains. mike only glances at it and seems to wince with a clenched jaw. he doesn’t look happy at all. you bite the inside of your cheek, getting all wrapped up in your head about what mike is thinking.

abby clearly had a misunderstanding of what mike was actually feeling. she had to.

minutes pass, and not a single word is said. to save your embarrassment (and his), the chair under you screeches as you stand up. “i-i’ll leave,” you suddenly mumble. you don’t notice the way mike’s head snaps up, watching you start to make your way to the door.

mike calls out your name before you’re able to reach the door. “stay,” he pauses to clear his throat. “uh, please.”

you turn around to see mike staring at you with his eyebrows slightly raised. without hesitation or any word, you sit back down. “is everything okay?” your voice sounds so soft, it makes mike’s heart melt.

he nods quickly, scratching the back of his neck. you can see that one of mike’s legs are bouncing and you can see sweat build up on his forehead. he loosens his tie, which makes your whole body warm up. you could feel the warmth spread throughout your limbs, stopping at your toes and fingertips.

“you don’t look okay, a-are you sick?” you exclaim with a worried look on your face. mike shakes his head no, huffing out a laugh.

“no, i’m okay, promise.” a grin appears on his face, amused with your sudden worry. “i just- abby wasn’t lying.” he blurts out, his eyes not meeting yours. you seemed to have a confused expression, so he went further. “when she said i like you.”

oh.

“oh.”

mike looks back at you, seeing that you’re completely and utterly flustered. he was right, you don’t see him the way he sees you. he feels himself sweat more, “is there something wrong?”

“no! no, no,” you ramble, laughing awkwardly. “is that why you were avoiding me for weeks on end?” you ask, your voice getting into a higher pitch. mike nods silently, eagerly awaiting for your response.

now that you think about it, everytime that you were in close contact with mike, his whole body would tense up and his face would turn pink. you almost hit yourself for not noticing sooner. instead, you laugh quietly. one of mike’s eyebrows raise, looking at you with a confused expression.

“i thought you were mad at me.” you mumble, fiddling with your fingers.

mike’s expression softens, “why would i be mad at you?”

“the day where abby and i made a mess out of the kitchen with flour,” you replied with a shrug. “that was the day where you started avoiding me.”

mike’s mouth opened, then closed. he did this a few times before finally saying: “that day was when i realized i liked you.”

you stayed silent as he continued. “i really didn’t mean to avoid you, but i just..” he stops and takes a deep breath. “i just, y’know, couldn’t find words when i was around you.”

your heart almost skipped a beat at his words, smiling ever so brightly at him. you felt so many emotions in that moment, where mike felt like he was about to faint from how pretty you look when you smile. he gives you a grin in return.

“i like you, too.” you say, still smiling. you giggle as mike sighs in relief.

his hand reaches over the table to grab yours. his hand is a little sweaty, but you don’t mind a bit.

he clears his throat, “that means i can take you on a date, right?”

you squeeze his hand tightly and nod before you realize something.

“who will babysit abby?”

[happy74827]

Fill the Void

[Mike Schmidt x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You didn’t know what you were more terrified of. Ruining the relationship between the man you secretly loved, or the presence of his little sister who seemed to despise you.

WC: 2,818

Category: Lime/Steamy, Slight Angst

Omg, I need to stop writing him. It’s such an obsession at this point.

『••✎••』

Mike was kissing you, like actually kissing you. His hands were on your hips, pulling you closer, while yours were in his hair. His eyes, those pleading eyes, were looking up at you with such passion, such longing that it made you weak at the knees. You could see the way the Adam's apple in his throat bobbed as he swallowed, his jaw clenching tightly as he took in a deep breath. His lips were slightly parted, inviting you to kiss him again and again.

You still didn't understand how this happened. You were trying to calm him down after a fight that happened the day before. He had gotten into a shouting match with his sister about how she treated you, and then it all escalated. It was a huge argument, with a lot of hurtful things said. It ended with Mike slamming his fist against the wall and Abby storming out of the room. You had spent the entire day trying to get him to talk to you, to talk to her. You tried to get him to apologize for what he said because you knew deep down he didn't mean any of it. He had just been so stressed, so angry, that he wasn't thinking straight.

So, there you were the next day, sitting on your bed with Mike as he ranted to you about practically everything. He talked about how he couldn't stand how Abby treated you and that it made him feel sick to his stomach. He told you that he couldn't stand to see the way that she would look at you like she was disgusted by the mere fact that you were around. He didn't like how she talked down to you like you were a kid or how she treated you like you didn't have any thoughts of your own.

And that was when it happened. You tried to reason with him, to calm him down, and that's when you first felt it. You felt the spark in the air, you saw the way his pupils dilated, and you felt the way his skin felt warm under your fingertips.

You had to admit it. You were so scared. You liked Mike, you really did. You liked the way he would protect you, the way he would make sure you were okay even though you weren't technically his family; you were just a friend who lived next door. You liked how he made you laugh, how he could always make you smile and brighten your day. You liked how he would take your hand when you were scared and comfort you with soft whispers.

You liked him a lot, and that terrified you.

You never really talked to anyone about how you felt about Mike. You never even mentioned it to him, even if it was on the tip of your tongue every time you looked at him. He had always told you he thought of you as family, but you weren't sure he meant it in the same way that you did. You were worried if you brought up the subject of you and him, it would ruin everything, that he wouldn't feel the same way about you. You were scared to ruin this friendship that you two had. It was a friendship you cherished and valued more than anything.

That was why you were so shocked when Mike was the one who brought up the subject. He looked into your eyes, and you knew he could see it all. He could see the way you felt, the way your heart pounded at the mere thought of him, and the way you had a hard time catching your breath when you saw him. And instead of shying away, turning bright red, and leaving the room, he got closer to you. He brushed his lips against yours, and you knew there was no turning back. You knew you were a goner, you were so screwed, and you couldn't bring yourself to care.

You deepened the kiss, pressing yourself against him as he maneuvered your body around so he was looking up at you instead of down. Your fingers slid along his cheeks, going into his hair, tugging slightly at the strands. Your eyes fluttered shut as he kissed you over and over. Your head was spinning, and it was all so overwhelming that you couldn't focus on anything. All you could do was kiss him back with everything you had, feeling the way his hands trailed up your sides, pushing your shirt up.

God, it felt so right. This felt so perfect. You never wanted it to end. You wanted to stay at this moment forever. You wanted to freeze time, to stop the moment before anything could ruin it. You wanted to stop and relish in the way his lips felt against yours, how his hands felt against your skin. You wanted to remember how he looked, with his eyes closed as you kissed him. You wanted to remember how he tasted, sweet and addictive. You wanted to remember the feeling of his heart beating, of the way it pounded against his chest, of the way it matched your own. You wanted to remember the way he smelled and the way he sounded when you tugged at his hair, making him groan quietly.

You wanted to remember everything, a reminder that this was real. This wasn't some dream or a fantasy. This was reality. It was real, and you wanted to savor it while you still could.

Unfortunately, Mike was only a human, and he needed air. He pulled away, but only for a moment. He leaned his forehead against yours, and you took in a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. You could still taste him on your lips, and you felt like you were on cloud nine. It was so perfect, so perfect that it almost scared you.

You didn't know what to say; you were completely speechless. You didn't know how to process this. You just sat there, staring into his eyes, taking in everything about him. You didn't want to ruin the moment. You didn't want to do anything to mess this up. You were scared of what would happen next; you were scared to ask.

Mike sensed your hesitation, and his lips pulled into a smile. He pushed your hair out of your face, letting his thumb trace along your jaw.

"It's okay," he said in a low whisper, his voice almost husky. "I feel it, too."

Those three words. He had said those words to you before. It had been in a different situation, but it was something similar, something you remembered vividly. That time, he meant it as family. This time, you knew he meant it differently. You weren't just friends with him anymore. You were something more.

He leaned in, kissing you again, but this time, it was different. This time, you felt more than you did before. You felt like there were fireworks behind your eyes, and sparks were running through your body. You felt like your heart was on the verge of bursting as he kissed you, and your stomach filled with butterflies. You felt like you were falling, but you also felt like you were flying. It was the most amazing feeling ever, and you wanted to feel it over and over again.

But, sadly, all good things come to an end. Mike practically ripped himself away from you in an instant, and you blinked in confusion as he peeked around you. His eyebrows furrowed, and he side-eyed you before glancing back again.

You looked at him, wondering what was going on, until you heard a creak of the floorboards, and your blood ran cold. Mike's eyes snapped toward his watch, and you noticed how his concern shifted to confusion before softly getting up from under you. He brushed himself off, giving you a sheepish smile before clearing his throat.

"Abby?" he called out, sounding as sweet as ever, as he crossed the room and looked down the hallway. "What are... It's eleven, Abs! Why aren't you at school? I'm not supposed to get you for another hour and a half!"

You scrambled off of your bed, feeling your face flush as you made your way over to Mike, trying to catch your breath. You could hear the sounds of her footsteps coming up closer, and you pushed yourself against Mike's chest as if to hide behind him. You didn't want her to see you, not yet, not after everything that just happened between the two of them the day before.

"I had to walk home," she said in a sullen tone as she made her way towards the two of you. She didn't seem to notice you yet. "Why didn't you pick me up?"

"What're you talking about?" he asked, his confusion only growing. You peeked over his shoulder and saw how she stood there, arms crossed and glaring at Mike. "I told you I'd pick you up at noon."

"What are you talking about? It is noon!" she argued back. "Maybe you should be paying more attention to your watch."

At that, Mike squinted his eyes before rushing back into the room, leaving you without protection from her angry eyes. She noticed you rather immediately, and she seemed to be taken aback for a moment.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice low as she glared at you. You thought the most terrifying moment would be her finding out about the situation, but this was almost worse in terms of reactions. She looked like she could kill you in an instant, and she had no clue what was going on between the two of you.

You had a stare-down with her before turning your head towards the loud noise coming from the room. Mike had a hand to his hair, and he looked about ready to rip it all out.

"The time change!" he yelled in realization, and you thought that was the end of that. You could see how his eyes shifted from you to his watch and then to his sister, and he seemed to finally put the pieces together. "Oh... I'm so stupid. I'm so sorry, Abs, I didn't-"

"It's fine," she interrupted, and you could see her composure shifting as though she were trying to be calmer. "It's no big deal. I guess you were too busy with... uh... well..."

She glanced over at you for a split second, and you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. This was so awkward. You felt like you were going to throw up. How can a ten-year-old girl with a staring problem be this intimidating?

"Abs, don't start this again," Mike warned, giving her an annoyed glare. You thought maybe it would work this time. Maybe he would convince her to drop this subject. You were wrong.

"Again?" she repeated, cocking her head to the side and giving him a look of disbelief. "What am I doing?"

"This!" Mike said in frustration, pointing to her as though it would make her understand. "You're doing this!"

She seemed to ignore his statement, and you had a sinking feeling that she did it on purpose. "I'm sorry, did I interrupt something? Is there a reason why you're in my brother's room?"

"Oh my God," he mumbled under his breath, and you swore you could hear his eyeballs rolling back into his head. He then let out a loud groan and threw his hands into the air. "Can we just... I don't know. Maybe just talk about this later. Okay? I need to finish getting ready for work and-"

"Fine!" she hissed before stomping back down the hall, back down the stairs, and slamming the door shut behind her.

Mike let out a deep sigh as he plopped himself down on the bed. He dropped his head back and ran his fingers through his hair, letting out another sigh. You could only stand there awkwardly before slowly making your way to him, sitting beside him, and placing a hand on his shoulder. You tried to offer him some comfort, some sympathy for what was going on with the two of them.

"You okay?" you asked him softly, and he looked up at you. You could see the exhaustion on his face, but there was still something else there. You could see it in the way his eyebrows were furrowed and how his jaw was clenched. You could see it in his eyes. He had something else going on in that big brain of his.

"I don't know why she's acting like this. She doesn't hate you, I know she doesn't, she's just..."

He trailed off, and you got the hint that he wanted you to ask. You swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking. "She's just what?"

"I don't know," he repeated. "She used to beg me to invite you over, and now... I don't… It's like she's got some vendetta against you. I don't get it."

"Well," you started, trying to ease him into this conversation as much as you could. "I mean... Maybe she's just missing you? I know how close you two are."

"No, that's not it. She knows that I'm always going to put her first and that she's the most important thing to me, so she doesn't need to feel like that's changing. I'm still going to be her big brother, and I'm still going to love her and take care of her. I just have you in my life now, too, so... Oh. That's why..."

You nodded slowly, trying to tell him with your eyes that he was right on the money.

"Shit, I've been such a jerk to her," he sighed, closing his eyes tightly for a moment before rubbing them with his fingers. "I just get so stressed about everything, and I get mad. She's my sister; she's the most important thing to me, and I've been... I haven't been a good big brother to her lately."

"It's okay, Mike, really," you tried to tell him, placing your hand on his back and rubbing it in small circles. "You just have to talk to her about it. Preferably, when I'm not here."

"Yeah, no kidding," he snorted, shaking his head. "I just... I don't know what to do. I don't know how to talk to her. She's so good at this, you know? She gets under my skin so easily, and I can never really tell what I should be doing with her."

"I'm sure she feels the same way. She's just stressed out, too," you offered, trying to sound as sweet as possible to cheer him up. It didn't seem like it worked.

"Yeah, I know," he muttered. "I guess we'll just have to... Wait, what time is it?"

You glanced at your watch, seeing that it was half past noon. He jumped up off the bed, his eyes widening.

"Oh, shit," he hissed, running to the door. "I'm supposed to be at work by now."

"You really are just out of your mind today, huh?" you laughed, shaking your head in amusement as you watched him scramble around his room, getting ready for work.

He seemed to completely ignore your statement and continued on his frantic rampage to grab his necessities. Once he was ready, he shot you a glance, and you knew you had to get moving, too. He had already gotten you fired once, and you didn't want it to happen again.

"I'll catch you later, okay? I'll talk to Abby tonight and hopefully get some answers," he promised. You smiled at him as he leaned in, kissing you one more time. You stood there as he opened the door to leave, but then he stopped in his tracks and turned around, giving you a serious look. "If you don't want to... you know, Max's number is on the fridge. It's always there for emergencies or anything else. I know she'd be more than happy to watch Abby—even though I can barely pay her anymore."

"It's okay, Mike," you said with a smile. "Go to work. I'll figure something out."

With a quick nod, he left, closing the door behind him.

You thought about calling Max, but you decided against it. If you and Mike were going to have any chance at a relationship, then you knew you had to face Abby sooner or later. You might save the conversation for Mike and her to have, but that didn't mean you couldn't start proving that you weren't just some stranger who came into his life to steal him away.

You were going to make Abby see that not only you were worthy of being around her brother, but you were also worthy of being around her, too.

[mo0nfairy]

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.

[l1tw1ck]

i found your writing through the mike schmidt x male reader tag and absolutely adore it! i will never write him cis ever (/lh), that man is trans and autistic as hell (/pos).

may i request mike getting his tdick sucked and his cunt eaten out? i prescribe him stress relief by multiple intense orgasms until he's completely spent and feeling nothing but peace and bliss. it's what he deserves <3

bottom!ftm michael x top reader

trans autistic mike is So real

cw: afab language, cunnilingus, squirting

"You deserve this, you've worked hard this week." You say softly, in between Michael's bare thighs. You press gentle kisses all over his plush flesh. "Just relax and let me take care of you, okay?"

Mike whimpers in response, twitching just because of your proximity to his cunt. He hasn't had sex thanks to his job and the most he's done to make up for it is humping his own arm or a pillow before falling asleep. He sucks in a breath as you kiss his dick, a burst of electricity and pleasure running through him. You drag your tongue up his pussy and lap at it, giving him lots of love with your tongue. Mike moans your name shakily and leans back. He blinks rapidly, his eyes staring straight at the ceiling as you bring him closer to his climax. "Fu- fuck-" He gasps. You dip your tongue inside him, searching around his insides as your fingers delicately rub his precious and super sensitive t-dick. "Ohmygod~" Mike cries out. "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-"

One of the reasons you're able to focus entirely on Mike's pleasure and ignore your aching dick is the words and sounds that come out of his mouth. Just hearing how good you're making him feel encourages you.

"'M gonna- gonna-" He shakes almost violently, squirt splashing all over your face. His breathing increases rapidly as he goes through the aftershocks of squirting for the first time in two weeks. You lick up any slick that made it on his legs and scoop up a bit more from his cunt before pulling away, just what he likes you to do.