#mike shmidt fanfic

[coryosbaby]

—ᴇʟᴇᴠᴀᴛᴏʀ.

Dark! Mike Shmidt x fem! family friend! Reader

♡ Content warning . mentions of a custody battle, enemies to lovers with no real explanation, stuck in an elevator trope — hard dom! Mike, oral (m recieving), pnv, doggy, , degradation, rough hate sex, creampie, breeding

“…And that is why, Mr… Shmidt. That is why, as of right now, we are placing Abby in this young lady’s care.”

Mike’s jaw clenches as he watches his own personal hell unfold before him. He watches you sign the custody form for Abby, watches the pink fur hat on top of your head and your dumb revealing sweater and your short skirt and wonders why in the hell the court would ever choose a slut like you over him to care for a child. You have a good job and experience in childcare, sure, but Mike knows you. You don’t know your right from your left (literally). What makes anyone think that you can take care of his little sister?

He clenches his fists at his sides. You have a smug look on your face, as if you’ve won the Cold War. You have a tendency to challenge Mike, but he never thought you’d take it this far. Keeping family out of your quarrels was always an unspoken agreement. Mike clears his throat, shoving down the anger blooming in his chest.

“Understood.” He mutters. “I’ll bring some of her stuff over as soon as possible.”

Smiling, you get up from your seat (one you had asked for after the first one was too hard, or some dumb shit).

“Great! I’m glad we have the matter settled.” And then, with an amused, despicable glint in your eye, “No hard feelings, Mikey.”

Mikey. A name he hasn’t heard from your lips in such a long, long time. He’s so close to doing the same thing that he did to that guy in the fountain to you. Never in his life has he ever been so provoked to hit someone. But he holds back, let’s out a breath of air, and says nothing. The lawyers around the both of you pack up, sensing the tension but not wanting to deal with it. You gather up your purse and pull out a tube of lipstick, reapplying it onto your lips through a compact mirror. Shutting it, you see that Mike is the only one in the room.

“Walk with me?” You ask, and Mike’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“What?”

“This whole building is filled with only men,” you infer, frowning. “I don’t like it. You’re the only one I trust.”

His eyes, enraged, look at you as he clenches his jaw.

“I wouldn’t.”

Rolling your eyes, you begin to walk out of the room. Mike trails behind you, ignoring the swaying of your curves as you open the glass door. He catches up to you in an instant, as you head for the elevator.

“This is low, you know. Even for you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. This isn’t about me and you, Mike. It’s about Abby.”

He scoffs, as you both approach the big metal elevator at the end of the hallway. “Yeah, right. Because you’ve always had such a desire to be a mother.”

Turning to him as you press the down button in front of the elevator, your gaze is harsh.

“You don’t know me, Mike.”

Mike smiles, not a hint of amusement on his face.

“I know enough.”

And turning towards the elevator, he steps in. You follow him afterwards, rolling your eyes as the door slides shut.

After a few seconds, however, a groaning sound escapes from the confines of the small box. Eyebrows furrowing, your heart beginning to pound, you watch with horror as the emergency light flashes on the elevator wall. The contraption stops completely, and now you’ve come to terms with your worst nightmare.

Your stuck in this fucking elevator.

And as if God is punishing you, he also decides to stick you in this enclosed space with Mike fucking Schmidt.

You want to die.

Anxiety begins to plague you; not necessarily from being alone with Mike. More so of being stuck in a small room such as this. The claustrophobia is really not helping you right now.

“What the fuck?” Mike curses loudly. “Why the hell isn’t it working?”

“How the fuck should I know?” You snap, putting your head in your hands. You lean back against the nearest wall and slide down against it. Your bottom lip wobbles, your foot tapping anxiously, but you refuse to cry. Not here. Not in front of him.

Mike looks closely at you, his mouth forming into a frown.

“Are you crying?”

You quickly shake your head, embarrassment dripping off of you in waves as you conceal yourself. After a moment, you can hear the sound of Mike pulling out his cell phone. He researches the name of the building and types in their number.

“Hey,” he says to the person on the other line. “Yeah, we’re trapped in one of your elevators, man. It just stopped. I don’t know—“

He pauses, listening to the other person reply.

“Oh. Is there anyway that you can get it fixed… quicker? … of course, of course. I understand. Thank you.”

Hanging up the call, he groans, and slides down to the floor across from you.

“They said it’s done this before and it’ll be an hour before they can get it up and running again.”

A few stray tears fall from your face, and you sniffle. “Okay.”

Mike sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“Stop.” He mutters. “Stop crying. It’s pathetic.”

Your face crinkles up in anger and you wipe your eyes with your hands.

“Fuck you.”

Mike scoffs, turning his head to the side with a smirk on his face.

“Again?”

You growl, angrily typing on your phone on twitter as a way to ignore him.

Mike watches you with contempt. His eyes trail over your legs, thick thighs wrapped up in fishnet stockings. You’ve changed your hair color since you last saw him.

“Your hair looks nice,” he states, and you’re confused as to why he’s being nice for a moment. Until his mouth is dripping with malice and he says, “Abby likes that color.”

You scoff, flicking your acrylics as you attempt to wipe off the mascara that had run down your face.

“Whatever.” You say snarkily, and Mike’s head snaps towards you, his jaw clenching once again.

“Why are you such a bitch?” He seethes, as if he hasn’t been a complete dickhead for the past ten minutes. You shrug, slipping your coat off your shoulders. It’s become unbearably hot in here.

“Why are you so stupid?” You reply, then smirk. “Your iq must be as low as your height.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Mike growls, throwing his phone down next to him. “You’re so petty. You insult people like a child.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so full of it I wouldn’t have to.”

Mike’s fists clench at his sides, but he says nothing. But of course, you can’t keep your mouth shut.

“How have you been sleeping, by the way? Are you still…” You motion your hands as if you’re popping a pill into your mouth.

Mike’s jaw clenches tightly as he glares at you.

“That’s none of your business.”

“It kind of is, actually,” you press. “A pillhead taking care of a child is definitely a scandal.”

He doesn’t say anything. His fingers tap against the metal floor of the elevator.

“Don’t worry, though.” Smiling, you tilt your head. “Even if you hate me, Abby is going to be so much happier with me then she is with you.”

And with a head that whips around faster than lightening, Mike snaps.

He pushes himself up to his feet and gets down on his knees in front of you to grab your throat with his strong hand. Shaking you, gripping the sides of your neck like he intends to kill, he sneers.

“Say one more thing about it, you fucking slut. I dare you.”

You should be scared. But you’ve always loved a challenge, and right now seems to be a big one. You just smirk at him and peer through hooded lashes.

“Or what?” You mumble out. It’s hard to talk, or even breathe, but it doesn’t matter. Because as fucked up as it is, this is lowkey turning you on— but you aren’t going to admit that.

Leaning in closer to you so he can pierce through your eyes with his burning gaze, Mike chuckles dryly. A dangerous glint flashes through his eyes.

“Or I’ll fucking kill you.”

Something clenches in your stomach, and you can’t tell if it’s fear or arousal. Your vision is starting to blur, and with teary eyes you shake your head against his grip. He looks down to your chest before finally releasing you of his grasp. Your doe eyes look up at him with something Mike can’t quite place as you gasp for air and your nimble fingers begin to massage your throat.

And something switches in him, as he looks down at you. Watching you sit on the floor with your skirt riding up, your makeup all messy and smeared, your tits hanging out. He wants to make you hurt.

“Get on your knees.”

It’s less of a suggestion and more of a demand, and you’re taken aback.

“What?” You say, exasperated.

“Did I fucking stutter?” He reaches down, hands wrapping around your hair as he yanks you towards his handsome face. “Get. On. Your. Knees.”

Gulping, you look at the now prominent tent in his jeans, and back up to him. You move up onto your knees, just like he asked. He begins unbuckling his belt. Soon he slides it out of the belt loops and wraps it around your throat. You squeak when he ties the leather around your neck, and Mike gives it a tug as a way to check the sustainability. It doesn’t budge.

“Just like you need,” he grunts, letting go of the leather and beginning to unbutton his fly. “A leash. Some fucking discipline, for once.”

Watching with your mouth agape, Mike unzips his fly and reveals his underwear.

“Mike—“ you start, but he shuts you up when he hooks his thumbs around the waist of his briefs.

“Shut up.” He snaps. He pulls the fabric down, his thick cock slapping against his lower stomach. Everything is happening so quickly and it has your head spinning. He grabs the leather around your neck and tugs, practically shoving your face against his cock. His precum smears on your cheek and your pussy clenches.

“Suck it.” He says harshly. Your mouth, still open in an O, catches on Mike’s aching tip and he lets out a low hiss. He harshly presses his cockhead deeper into your mouth, grinding his hips as a way to push himself further into you. “I said suck it, bitch.”

You cry against him, but all the while your wetness is beginning to seep down your thighs. Your tongue lolls out against your own will, tasting a sliver of the cock you used to know so well.

“Fuck,” Mike grunts. His tip hits the back of your throat and you gag loudly. “Missed this slut mouth…”

His fingers wrap around the belt again, and he pulls forward. Your throat is already starting to feel sore from his harsh fucking. Your hands land on his thick hairy thighs, gripping the skin as you try your best to take him.

Even when you hate him, you can’t help but do your best to please.

“Always running that fuckin’ mouth,” Mike rants. “Always needing something to shut it the fuck up.”

You mewl around his cock, working your lips up and down against his awaiting thrusts. Tears fall freely down your cheeks, your neck and face incredibly hot. His heavy sack slaps against your chin with each hit. When you make a small, pained sound around him, the pressure on your throat causing a lot of pain, Mike just chuckles.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?”

Your head is fuzzy, your mind already fucked out. And like god answers your prayers, Mike finally, finally pulls you off of his length. You fall to the floor with a heaving cough as you try to gain oxygen back to your lungs. He grabs your limp body and flips you onto your stomach, his large hands taking hold of your thighs and pulling you up so your ass is in the air. He flips your skirt up, exposing you to the small space of the elevator and snapping the waistband of your panties against your skin.

“Such a little cocktease,” mike rants, his thumb rubbing over one of your asscheeks. “Always tryna’ rile me up. Aching for my attention.”

You whimper when he pulls down your lace underwear in one go, not even bothering to fully take it off and instead keeping it wrapped around your knees. He spreads your asscheeks in his hands, watching your asshole clench and your pussy drip with need.

“Been real quiet since I fucked your throat,” he continues, and you hear rusting behind you. “Guess I finally figured out a way to shut you up.”

And when his pants are down to his thighs and his bare cock presses against your entrance, you drool onto the dirty floor below you. Mike’s cock stretches your tight walls ruthlessly, and he doesn’t hesitate to push fast into you so he can fuck you sooner. His big hand splays across the back of your head and pushes you down onto the floor tiles, your cheek cold from the material touching your skin. His grip is mean, cold, and he begins to pound you with no remorse, no mercy, no sympathy. You cry as his hips slap against your backside, mutters of “Mikey, please, Mikey,” spilling from your cockdrunk lips. His hands wrap around his belt, the one around your neck, and he pulls it taut against your throat. You choke, gasping for breath, and your vision blurs. His breath is hot against your ear as he utters out another set of words.

“Such a good little fuckhole…I missed it, shit.”

Your hand wraps around the belt to loosen his hold. He lets up, but his thrusts do not. Your knees ache and will probably bruise later, but’s it’s worth it. You can feel he’s close by the way he keeps slurring his filthy words, the way his thrusts begin to stutter. Your eyes widen as his cum shoots deep into your womb, filling you up and spilling over the rim of your pussy. He collapses against you, and you yourself have already collapsed against the floor with your body arching at an almost impossible angle. Mike slips out of you, watching the way his cum drips down your thighs, and lets out a chuckle.

“Guess you’ll have another kid to take care of now.”

notes: this is absolutely terrible, take it as u will

[jealousjersey]

long nights ˙ ✩°˖ ⋆｡˚꩜

mike schmidt ooey gooey fluff hcs for @janitorhutcherson my beloved 🦕

mike ✩ makes you diy gifts for small anniversary’s, he never forgets one. for the big ones, years and what nots, he makes sure to work longer shifts to take you out

mike ✩ takes late night walks with you when you can’t sleep, he doesn’t mind that he’s so tired he can barely keep his eyes open while doing so. he just wants to make you happy, even if it means staying up a few more hours

mike ✩ is a writer, well, for you he is. he writes you love letters to put in your lunch box before you go to work.

mike ✩ gives you his clothes, he thinks you look so lovely in them, with his fitting tshirt hangs off your frame. when you borrow his sweatpants, he makes sure to leave notes in the pockets for you.

mike ✩ plays board games with you and abby even though he sucks at them and abby always wins. it doesn’t matter who won or not, as long as all 3 of you are together.

mike ✩ always makes time for you, no matter what, when, or where. if you need him, he always picks up the phone.

mike ✩ watches movies with you during the day when he’s off work, he holds you close to him and whispers sweet things in your ear as he runs his fingers through your hair

mike ✩ watches the stars with you when they’re out, every time a plane goes by he thinks it’s a shooting star so he wishes, he always wishes for you.

mike ✩ who doesn’t have a lot of money to get you expensive things, so instead he either makes gifts or gets you the cheapest necklaces from the supermarket. it doesn’t matter the cost or the quality, just the thought.

mike ✩ who challenges you in mario kart, knowing you’ll loose to him. he always makes up for it, giving you kisses and cuddles afterwards to make that fake pout on your face go away

mike ✩ hates making pillow forts with you and abby, although both of you love it, mike unfortunately can’t fit into it.

mike ✩ wakes up early to watch the sunrise with you. he makes you a cup of coffee in the morning to get you going.

mike ✩ tucks your hair behind your ear when you stare at him with your beautiful eyes, he thinks your hair looks better that way.

mike ✩ takes naps with you after a long day, holding you close to his chest and kissing your forehead softly. he wraps his big arms around you the entire night, afraid you’ll fade away if he even dares to let go.

mike ✩ keeps a photo booth picture of the tw of got in his wallet at all times

mike ✩ kisses all over your face, making you giggle and squirm while whispering “such a pretty baby”, “i love you baby” , etc

[daydream-believin]

Like A Boiled Frog (You Don't Even Scream) [ch 1]

notes: might proofread this before i post this to ao3 but here have the raw milk version (pasteurization is for losers amaright)

series summary: every time you think things cant get any more batshit, hurricane throws another pile of guano at you. every time you think the hole cant get any deeper, you fall further. and you’re not sure what frightens you more: the town itself, or your increasing reluctance to leave.

or: au where mike has that pizza shop for wayyy more than a week and you find yourself a horror protagonist. or at least one’s love interest.

chapter summary: get haunted bitch. now go drive to utah in a manic episode. go meet a nice walking corpse, maybe it'll fix you. or make you worse. probably that second thing lmao

word count: 7985, oh dear (thats with me cutting out some stuff lol)

warnings: uh, swearing, manic behavior, self-harmful thoughts/behavior, mention of hallucinations/hearing voices, shit this is sounding bad, i mean its canon typical violence so idk man no lifeguard on duty

You know how in Source Decay, John Darnielle says / I wish the west Texas highway was a mobius strip / I could ride it out forever / when I feel my heart break? / Well, that guy’s a bitchass snake oil salesman for romanticizing this. Fuck that guy.

Although, this is the first time you’ve ever been able to set a cruise control and actually just leave it at that. What with there being no other cars on the road out here at this hour for you to run into. You even forgot about it at one point.

Little puffs of fire danced in your peripheral vision, like fairies flitting about. It was easy to spot them out in the night air, all those pumpjacks that littered the desert. There was nothing but these small fires, with the tiny, dotted additions of the glowing red eyes of windmills to light up the way for miles.

And you tried not to think about how if you broke down, no one would be around to find you. Every now and then you would startle at the shadowy specter of a tumbleweed crossing your path, but you were acutely aware of just how alone you were out here.

On that train of thought, your gaze fell to the passenger side, to the little bear toy you had buckled into a seatbelt like it was a person.

“Can you believe this, Fredbear?” you asked the inanimate object.

Fredbear did not answer, of course. Would be insane if he did, right?

Hmm …Why did part of you expect him to.

***

The august sun was beating down hot on your back as you walked home that day. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but it was only last week.

The neighborhood was as full of life as it always was. The kids running around in a game of tag, the teens playing basketball, and the adults walking their dogs. You could hear some faint music playing in the distance, most likely from the stage setup in the square downtown, not too far away.

There were many yard sales set up, it being the thing to do on a sunny Saturday afternoon like this. Despite your very strong instincts to rummage through all the boxes in these sales like a raccoon looking for dinner in a dumpster, you were broke, with no money to spare for impulse purchases on random junk. And thus, being a mature adult, you walked right past them.

That is, until a yard full of children’s toys caught your eye. One of your cousins’ kids was turning 6 in a few weeks. Might as well buy presents now before you forget again and have to rush to the store in a panic 8 minutes after the party had already started, sweat rolling down your back as you search the toy isle for something the birthday boy would like, while your phone keeps buzzing in your pocket nonstop because both your cousin is texting and your aunt is calling to ask where you’re at because you were the one who was supposed to be picking up the pizza.

 I mean, just a hypothetical scenario here.

You didn’t really find anything good as you dug through the bins of miscellaneous action figures and toy cars. As you could recall, the kid really liked Iron Man right now. And sharks. Alas, you found no Iron Mans or sharks in those bins.

The other table’s baskets were full of stuffed animals. You could maybe get lucky and find a stuffed shark in there. But stuffed animals are notorious for being hard to clean; and yard sale plushies sometimes come with more than just one new friend. You weren’t about to be the reason your cousin had to fumigate her house for bedbugs. Again. So, you decided to close this case for now and skedaddle on out of there.

You took another look back at the table as you walked away.

Well.. The toys you could see at the top of the bins did look like they were well taken care of… It couldn’t hurt to just look, right?

Yeah no. You found no sharks unfortunately. What you did find, however, was this funky little teddy bear wearing a top hat and bowtie.

A real character, that one. The bright gold fabric of its body made it stand out amongst the other toys. The smile stitched onto the bear gave it a weird, smug look. And you hadn’t seen a plushy with eyebrows before.

That being said, this thing’s aura was so... unsettling. You stared into its black eyes, that seemed to stare right back at you, with a strange feeling twisting in the pit of your stomach.

“You like that one, do ya?”

You almost jumped out of your skin when the old man running the sale spoke to you. You had Not heard him come up beside you like that. Creepy.

“Yeah, it’s…” you tried to think of a positive word, “very intriguing. Looks like it’s ready for a party.”

“My granddaughter called him Fredbear. Found him over in Utah, many years back. In a yard sale, just like this one,” he gently took the bear from you, and looked down at it wistfully, “My granddaughter..  liked how smartly dressed he was. A perfect guest for her tea parties. You were right about that…”

The old man stared at the doll for a little longer after the conversation faded. You felt extremely awkward now. Perhaps you really should have just left without unearthing this obvious sentimental piece.

“My grandchildren are no longer here with me,” you felt a little uncomfortable with how he phrased that, “so, I’ll tell you what. Promise me you’ll take care of him, and he’s yours. Free of charge.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. I’d be happy to pay for him, really,” you felt bad taking free stuff from the elderly.

“No,” he said with a tone of finality, placing the bear firmly into your hands, “the day’s almost over. I’d like to help this old friend move on. It’s time.”

Well that somehow was both sweet and foreboding at the same time.

So, you thanked the old man and started back on your walk home, Fredbear cradled in your arms. He waved goodbye to you. The grandfather, of course, not the teddy bear.

You probably aren’t going to wind up giving this one to your cousin’s son. There was something about it that told you not to. Maybe it was the way the old man talked about it. You felt compelled to take care of the plush yourself. Kind of like an honor thing. Or a pity thing.

It smelled a little funky. But that’s nothing a little TLC couldn’t handle. And some dish soap.

Maybe you were just. Feeling a bit childish lately. Too small and easily broken. Moved to tears by little things that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Disregarded and treated like your fears weren’t real.

Deeply afraid.

Yeah, you’d give Fredbear a nice soak in the sink with a fun dish soap bubble bath. And maybe after that, you’ll both feel a little better.

You were alone in your apartment that night, as your roommate was always gone these days. And when you made your tea, you brought Fredbear a mug as well. A little tea party, for old time’s sake.

Looking back, maybe that was your first mistake.

***

Static rolled from your radio. You gave up on fiddling with it hours ago, but you’ve got nothing better to occupy your mind now.

You turned the knob absentmindedly, never really expecting to get anywhere. Or any signal, that is. A muffled country song here, the broken-up voice of a DJ there, nothing strong enough to stay for more than a few seconds. However, a few seconds of a clear transmission was all you really needed when you rolled past a certain signal.

“zZz-Hurricane—“

Now that was a word that got your attention. Not that you were anywhere near the coast at the moment. You know, unless the person reading this is looking to buy some oceanside property in Arizona. In that case feel free to slide into my DMs.

“zZZ-Peach Days! -Zz celebratio— zzZ-year—peaches peach—-ZzzZ-Heritage-zZ,” you let your gaze flicker downward, towards the dimly lit red text of the frequency number display as if that would provide some more insight.

And then suddenly, the fuzz was completely gone, as if you were near the tower itself,

“So Hurry On To Hurricane City!” the spokesman encouraged cheerfully. You could practically here the giant pageant smile in his voice as he delivered his slogan. This man was your friend, obviously. Then, however, his tone shifted as he closed the ad copy, “Because you know the party can’t start without you…”

You held your breath as the silence dragged out a few agonizing seconds, until “ZZZZZZZZ!!!”, in a jolt, the transmission went completely out. Explosively. You even flinched.

You stayed on the station for a good twenty minutes after that, waiting to see if you could hear anything again. You could feel your heart pound against your ribs until the terrifying feeling faded. There was nothing else but static, of course, and for so long you almost thought you must have imagined it. If not for the way those dull words repeated in your head, over and over.

THE PARTY CAN’T START WITHOUT YOU.

THE PARTY CAN’T START WITHOUT YOU.

THE PARTY CAN’T START WITHOUT YOU.

You hadn’t really had a destination in mind when you took off. No goal other than to get out of there as fast as you could manage. The idea of the West had been bouncing around your brain a lot lately, hence your current trajectory, but you really hadn’t had a clue where you were supposed to be going when you left.

I mean, you still didn’t have a destination. You had no clue what that advertisement was even about. Where they were even fucking talking about. Hurricane City?

Yet, somehow, you knew those words were meant for you. Not anyone else. you. There was a party and the party was waiting for you.

Guess you’d have to look for a map or something in town. Perhaps use the library computer. Man, you would regret throwing your phone into the lake in a fit of passion as you left town, but honestly, this is the longest you’ve known peace in quite some time. Just gonna have to live a little retro for a while. Not the worst thing in the world.

You’ll get a new one later, once you’ve settled in to… wherever you’re going. Whatever new home lies over that horizon for you, you guess.

The sun was breaching the beige skyline of sandy shrub brush as you finally rolled over the state line. You needed to eat. Your stomach growled loudly at just the thought. Funny. You hadn’t even thought about eating in the last.. twenty hours. Which means you should be absolutely shaking right now. Yeah, that’s why you’re shaking. That’s it. You’ll pull into the first diner you see.

You were hoping to at least be in Roswell for breakfast, but there was no way your body was going to be able to keep running if you waited that long. Looks like it’s just going to be the first place you come across.

Hopefully they don’t put green chilis in their pancakes or something.

That sounds insane but it’s an actual thing you’ve seen before in this state, trust. There are no laws nor gods when it comes to Hatch green chilis.

***

Your sleepy brain was not ready for the bell that rang as you walked through the door. Embarrassingly enough, the tinny noise startled you. You almost tripped, to be honest. Thankfully your wobbly Bambi legs held up as you managed to catch yourself.

The hostess wasn’t in sight as you awkwardly stood in the entrance, but there was a whole heap of noise coming from the kitchen.

“Hold on just a second, Sweetpea!” a voice called out to you.

Well, guess you’re holding on a second.

Your eyes scanned the top of the walls, perusing the vast cookie jar collection that the owner had accrued over the years. They were never dusted, despite being on shelves that lined the top of every wall in the tiny shack of a diner, and thus you could easily tell that a few new additions had been made. You know, because those cookie jars were way less filthy.

That’s gotta be a heath-code violation.

After you heard a bit of garbled yelling, the hostess rushed out to take her place in front of you. Smoothing down her polka-dotted apron, she grinned at you.

“Table for two?”

You blinked. It was too early in the morning for fully intelligent speech.

“Uh. No. Just me today. Thank you.”

Her big, bedazzled cat-eyeglasses fell a little farther down her nose as she scrunched her face in confusion, “alright then. Just the one of you today...”

She grabbed a paper menu as she led your shambling body to a table near the window. Which was shut away with ancient looking vinyl blinds that you were too afraid to open, lest they crumble and the cost of replacing them be put on your on tab.

She had already disappeared back into the kitchen by the time you got yourself in a seat. You glanced around the room. You weren’t the only patron here, as a few tables held a few bodies, but you were the only one without your face buried in a newspaper. And to be expected honestly, you were the youngest person in the room at seven in the morning.

The hostess, who was also the only waitress in this tiny local business, placed two glasses in front of you. The dull sound they made hitting the table drew you out of your revelry. There before you were two cups, a steaming mug of fresh coffee and a short glass of milk. You looked up in confusion.

“Don’t worry, it’s whole milk. Builds strong bones.”

That... wasn’t your concern.

You looked back at the cup in confusion and by the time you turned back, she had already moved on to the next table, refilling mugs and having loud banter with the other customers. Her regulars, by the sound of it. You felt too apathetic to try and call her over again.

You shrugged, to no one in particular, as you did not have a breakfast partner with you, despite the waitress’s insistence otherwise. Wait, was she mocking you? Eh, maybe it’s just supposed to be for the coffee. Nevertheless, you would not be drinking the milk, so you just left it there.

Despite the prevalence of the local newspaper in the room, there wasn’t a dispenser or anything at the front of the restaurant, like there usually is. As you drummed your fingers on the tablecloth, bored out of your mind, you kinda regretted throwing your phone in the lake a bit more. Maybe not the best of moves.

But hey, at least you aren’t constantly quelling the incessant buzzing you’d be hearing if you’d kept it.

You busied yourself stirring your coffee while you looked over the menu again, just for something to read. Of course, you were ordering a waffle. Because this was a diner, and, yeah, you do like waffles. And pancakes. And French toast. Doodoodoodoo can’t wait to get a mouthful.

That voice kept echoing in your mind. The party can’t start without you.

“More coffee, Babycakes?” the waitress snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Oh! Yeah, thank you,” you moved the mug to the edge of the table, closer to her, “Say… I know this is an out-of-pocket question, but have you heard anything about Hurricane City? Maybe something about peaches?”

“Oh!” she snapped her fingers, “You mean the Peach Days. It’s a little heritage festival they put on every summer in Hurricane, you know. It’s a hoot, my family makes a trip out there every few years or so for it. Not this time of course, clearly, since I’m here talkin’ to you and not in Utah—”

“In Utah?”

Of course, it was Fucking Utah again.

“I know it’s soundin’ far, but it’s only ‘bout a day’s drive from here. Two days if y’ain’t crazy about following an itinerary like my husband,” she brushed a hand over her apron before you lost her attention to the other customers, “I swear that man would plan out a schedule for every second of the day if he could…”

After she wandered off to go top off more mugs, you lamented the fact that you still hadn’t ordered yet. That’s what you get for being nosy about peach festivals, you suppose.

Thankfully though, soon enough you had your hearty breakfast and were back in front of the wheel, on your way to the friendly neighborhood Walmart. Where hopefully no cops or employees would bother you as you crashed in the parking lot.

You took Fredbear to the backseat with you for good luck. Maybe it was the gold color, or the fancy getup he had. Maybe you just needed a cuddle buddy to not feel so alone in this parking lot swarming with people.

Much to your disdain, it was now a bit into the morning hours, and the sun was fully up.

You had tried to find as shady a spot as possible, but it’s not exactly like trees grow in this biome. At least not naturally. Windbreak tree lines were definitely a thing, but those protected buildings people cared about, and this was a Walmart. Nothing around here but concrete, rocks spray painted blue, and cigarette butts.

So after tossing and turning in the bright blinding sunshine for way longer than you should have, and making promises to higher deities was proven to be unfruitful in your attempt to find some semblance of peace, you finally just had to admit defeat. And here by rescinding any aforementioned promises to higher powers.

You laid Fredbear back down on the seat and tucked him in with the blanket when you got back up. At least one of you could be cozy and well rested. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be you, however.

Well, it’s far from the first all-nighter you’ve pulled without having time to take a nap during the following day. Sleep deprivation isn’t real, silly. Teachers just made that up to scare you. It’ll be fine.

***

You know you never really realize how much we structure our lives around other humans until you take a drive through the middle of nowhere. How essential it is to have enough gas to make it to the next town. From town to town, your life becomes segments. Only within the eyesight of other humans are you ever safe. Only within the bounds of the settlement can your soul be settled.

Gas stations become oases. Which is the plural of oasis, apparently. Anyway, you start seeing them like mirages. Dingey, weather-worn gas pumps become as good as a sparkling illusion of precious water in the Sahara. The empty shells of buildings you passed by, long since forgotten, became like mausoleums in these graveyard towns. Villages. Hamlets. Mostly hamlets.

“Are we there yet?” a small and very annoyed voice called out.

You had just written it off as your imagination until you heard the noise of shuffling fabric. Normally your audio hallucinations aren’t that detailed. Paralyzed, you held your breath, not daring to make any noise that would distract your ears from hearing whoever, whatever, was in the back seat. Your mind went to stories of skinwalkers and misshapen monsters and hitch-hiking serial killers.

“… Are we there yet?” the voice repeated, admittedly sounding even smaller to you now.

Yep, that’s a real person alright. Or a real thing. Your eyes were probably bloodshot from the way you haven’t blinked this entire time, just staring straight ahead on the desert highway. Taking a deep, shaky breath to steady yourself, you turned down the rear-view mirror…

Christ almighty. You had a stowaway.

Your stomach turned immediately. God, come on now, don’t puke up what little you had on your stomach. You need that.

“Hey Buddy,” you tried to sound as friendly as you could, “What’s your name?”

Clad in a little striped shirt and cargo shorts, he started kicking his feet in impatience, which would be cute if it weren’t for this situation y’all are in, and the adrenaline pumping through your veins, “We’ve been in here forever,” he whined.

If this was a skinwalker, he was a pretty darn adorable one. And definitely not a hitch-hiking serial killer. At least you hoped. But no, this was a greater form of terror: responsibility.

“Haha, yeah, we have been in here really long, haven’t we? How long do you think we’ve been driving, can you tell me?”

When did you pick up this child. When you got gas in Gallup? Albuquerque? Dear lord, if he’s been in here since Roswell, you’re about to have the world’s biggest headache on your hands, both metaphorically and physically. But there’s no way he’s been in here for fucking 10 hours, right? right??

Okay, okay. Maybe you’re just a little panicky right now and not thinking straight. Maybe teachers hadn’t been making up sleep deprivation just to scare you after all. You have been purposely not drinking anything for the lack of available restrooms. People get dehydration hallucinations, right?

The boy just stared at you, blankly. Probably fully realizing you were a stranger and not whoever he thought you were. In lieu of answering you, he started fidgeting more with the toy bear you had had in the back. You really hoped that hadn’t been what lured him into your station wagon in the first place.

Don’t be getting shy on me now, kid.

You put your blinker on, ready to merge off the road and onto an incoming rest-stop that you thanked your lucky stars for.

“Honey, can you tell me what your phone number is?”

He looked up at you, finally tearing his attention from the bear, and you could see gears turning in his head.

“…435-555-1987?”

You repeated it back to him, and he nodded. Alright, time to find that payphone.

Said rest-stop payphone was thankfully near a picnic table so you could sit him down and be able to watch him carefully the whole time you made this call. Because judging by the fact this situation was happening at all, he was a slippery one.

You got out of the car and opened the back door, but he was hesitant to get out. Which, fair, you are a stranger trying to get him to a second location.

“What’s up, Bud?” you tried your hardest to not sound like a predator but boy was that a real nebulous idea, wasn’t it?

“Fredbear wants to come too,” he mutters.

“Well, sure then, let’s bring him, we’ll have a little picnic.” With no food, but hey, whatever lie it takes to get him sitting on that bench.

It was really cute the way the kid set the bear down on the table and positioned it like they were going to have a picnic together. When you find this kid’s parents, you’ll let him keep Fredbear. Toys like it when they’re given to new children, right? Wasn’t there a movie about that or something. Wincing at the grubbiness of the payphone, you reluctantly dialed the number.

“Hello, Jeff’s Pizza on Main St, are you ready to order?”

You closed your eyes, counting the seconds as you breathed in for 4 seconds, held it for 7, and released for 8.

“Hello? Are you there?”

“Yes!” you practically shouted into the receiver. So much for calming down, “please don’t hang up,” you pleaded.

“Listen, we don’t take solicitation,”

“No, uh, sorry. I’ve found a lost child who told me this was his number. Is the owner of this restaurant by chance frantically looking for their son?”

You heard some muffled conversation happening behind the phone, “Well, no, I don’t even have any kids… and I uh, am currently understaffed. Im the only one here.”

you cursed under your breath.

“Uh, alright, well…” you could tell this was getting really awkward for him.

“Could you tell me where y’all are, I’m unfamiliar with the area code,”

“Uh, Hurricane, Utah?”

… If you weren’t on the phone, you fucking swear you’d be screeching at the top of your lungs like a chimpanzee right now.

“Thank you, you know, just in case he’s just remembering an advertisement he’s seen or something,”

“Oh, okay,” there was a pause, “well I hope you find the parents or, whoever,”

“Thank you,” you’ll put him out of his misery and hang up.

“Are you sure that’s your number, Hon?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Why don’t you tell me it again, maybe I dialed it wrong,”

“435-5--” his face scrunched up in concentration, “435-555—I don’t know…”

You tried not to look visibly stressed at this answer.

“Do you know where you live?”

He moved the bears paws along with whatever little game he was playing, before looking up at you, head tilted in confusion, “Hurricane?”

Okay. Police time. If not for him, for you. The skinwalker possibility just went back up. Because, honestly, he had to have gotten in your car as a coyote or something. No way you wouldn’t’ve noticed a whole ass child entering your car.

“How does ice cream sound, huh Buddy?”

“I want ice cream!” he said hastily as if you’d change your mind if he hesitated.

“Ice cream it is then, but only if you’re good for me and the officers, okay? And tell them everything you can remember. You’re smart, right?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Great,” you smiled over clenched teeth.

After herding him back into the car, you had to take a moment to gently rest your head into the steering wheel. And it took everything within you to not smash said head into it. Or scream in agony. No, no, we mustn’t scare the child.

Tuba City wasn’t too far away. The police station was downtown, as most are. Luckily, across the street there was a paleteria with a courtyard area. The little guy got very excited when you got pulled into the parking space, so eh, what the hell, ice cream first. Maybe after a treat and some playtime in the courtyard he won’t be as wiggly and will be able to tell the cops what he knows about just where the hell he came from.

The noise of the bell chiming made you flinch as you two walked into the paleteria. You hadn’t thought you were that tightly wound right now but apparently you were wrong. The lady behind the counter greeted you warmly, and you responded in turn, trying to play it cool.

God, imagine if she got an off-vibe from you and the kid and called over the police from across the street before you even have a chance—

Deep breath. Okay. The kid you had started referring to in your head as just “Little Boy” was leaned against the display case, his breath fogging up the glass in front of him and probably leaving little handprints for the shopkeeper to clean later.

“I’m sorry about that,”

“That’s… Okay. What can I get you?” she seemed a little confused. Strange, but you brushed past it just as quickly as she did.

“Ah, what do we want?” you asked Little Boy.

He excitedly tugged on your pantleg and pointed to the popsicle he wanted, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes. He doesn’t need to convince you, but you quickly realized you were not going to be able to say no to any else after this if he deployed the same cute begging look.

“One of those cute little Tweety Bird faces,” you pointed.

“Anything else?” she handed you the popsicle and you gingerly took it.

“Nah, that’s it” you were too nauseous to eat right now.

You paid, throwing the change into the tip jar, and turned to give Little Boy the popsicle she handed you.  The words caught in your throat as you looked down to find your pantleg absent of any tugging by any Little Boy. You quickly scanned the tiny paleteria. He was nowhere to be found, anywhere in the room.

“Uh, did you see where the kid went?” you tried not to sound too panicked.

She was taken aback, also quickly looking around the room to find no one, before shaking her head, “Did you have a kid with you?”

You furiously nodded in confusion,

“I’m sorry, then I didn’t see them,” she pointed to the glass door that led to the courtyard only a few feet away from y’all, “Try outside, maybe?”

You burst outside, searching the area in a panic, but you couldn’t see him anywhere. Not hidden in the tangle of the garden, not splashing around in the fountain, not at, under, on top of, or around any of the tables.

You went to call his name, but your voice caught in your throat when you realized you didn’t have a name to call. And.

And.

Something hit your shirt. A water droplet. You looked up into the clear, blinding blue sky. Your nerves tickled as another droplet ran down your cheek. Oh, you were crying. Huh.

You took the closet seat you could find, counting the things processed by your 5 senses. It’s all you could do to not start bawling for no reason. Maybe you’ll calm down and be able to think straight soon.

Why can’t you think straight? Everything feels so fuzzy.

You should be terrified, and in a way, you were. In your heart of hearts, you knew the truth: Little Boy wasn’t real. Or at least turned back into a coyote and ran off.

As you stared vacantly into the open air, you realized you still had a dripping popsicle in your hands. Supposedly “Tweety Bird” shaped, it just looked like a yellow skull missing its mandible bone to you. How fitting.

You pulled it to your mouth. Yum. Tasted like AAAAAAAA. Or orange, according to the package.

Attempting to lick the melted yellow liquid off of your hand, you accidentally stuck the ice pop on your face. Great. Now you’re sticky all over.

God, you’ve really gone and lost your fucking marbles this time, haven’t you.

There was a bulletin kiosk a few feet down your field of vision. On that bulletin kiosk was an old poster, barely visible as it was buried under layers of other flyers. It caught your eye and seemed to burn your retinas. What little you could see was the word Freddy and part of what looked like a version of the bear you’d been toting around this whole little expedition, but that was enough.

Something clicked. You looked down at the bear hanging by your side in your other hand. The kid had shoved it into your arms so he could more easily lean on the display case, right before he disappeared the very moment you took your eyes off of him.

You know, you hadn’t really felt alone since bringing Fredbear home. And not in a good way.

Guess the name you should’ve been calling was Freddy.

You had to get rid of that bear.

***

You had been walking home like you always did, same route. But you noticed something peculiar about this time. The house that the old man had his yard sale in was now stripped of all decoration, with a For Sale sign proudly standing in the grass. No cars, and no blinds or curtains on the windows, so you could see into the den which was now devoid of any furniture.

You’ll admit it, you crept around to the other windows, searching for any signs of life at all in the empty rooms. None. No furniture, no people, no trash. The yard sale was yesterday. How did they clean this place out so thoroughly in the short amount of time between when you’d seen it last and now.

A little confuddled, you went home as usual. While strange as hell, this wasn’t a missing person’s case or anything. And it’s probably why the man was so adamant on giving you Fredbear because it was the end of the day. He had a deadline. He was skipping town.

God, you wished you could just skip town.

You frankly thought nothing of it when you unlocked the door to your apartment to see Fredbear was already seated on the couch, like he was all set to marathon whatever 30-year-old cartoon you wound up watching that night. And it’s not like your roommate hadn’t done something like this before, move a stuffed animal or action figure into a funny position for you to find later.

You hadn’t seen him much lately. Or like, at all. The only reason you knew he was still alive were the dirty dishes in the sink, dirty clothes on the floor of the bathroom, and the aforementioned moving the bear around.

Looking back now, was he moving the bear around?

If you locked the deadbolt that can’t be unlocked from the outside, you’d be guaranteed to catch him in person for once. But you weren’t willing to go through the trouble and emotional toil of doing that, however.

In the name of feeling less like a ghost haunting your own home, getting yelled at for intentionally locking your roommate out might be a wee bit counterproductive. Sure, you’d be seen and spoken to, but the harshness of his words and tone would send you into a worse episode than you were already in.

Well, at least Fredbear seemed ready to keep you company tonight...

The fact that they put unskippable advertisements on streaming services you’re paying for in the first place is criminal. Or at least regular cable tv in a trenchcoat.

You got a drink while they prattled on about luxury cars you couldn’t afford and real estate companies you weren’t going to have the privilege of patroning any time soon. Embarrassingly, as you poured the pitcher of water into a glass, you got a little distracted.

The cheap glass’s glass was only about a millimeter or two thick. You could easily just crush this cup in your hand, in one swift movement. The muscles of your arm began tensing up at the thought.

But thankfully, a loud, blaring advertisement coming from the TV snapped you out of it. And so, you promptly decided to Not Do That, because picking all of those tiny glass shards out of your flesh would be a bitch. And that was not how you wanted to spend a perfectly good Sunday night. And of course you didn’t need the questions at work tomorrow.

You returned to the couch, curiously, and you swear, that damn teddy bear followed you with its eyes. Even though they were a shiny, solid black, and the idea itself would be insane.

As you settled back down, you grabbed the remote to turn down the volume of the cheery music playing. Mysteriously, it wasn’t just a commercial with bad sound mixing, the TV itself had been turned up. Now that it had your attention, the thing that was being sold to you seemed to the state of Utah. You know, those Visit [X] ads that were commonly played between cooking shows and ghost hunting documentaries.

“Oh hey, you’re from there, right?” you poked at fredbear. And immediately felt pathetic. God, you’ve got to stop talking to inanimate objects and like get a boyfriend or something. Geez.

The imagery on the screen was just, you know, normal southwest stock footage:

A drone shot of Zion national park

Old men golfing

Owls living in holes they’ve dug into cactuses

Rock archways

A family laughing as they shared a pizza being served to them by a man in a bear suit that looked just fredbear,

“Oh, well there you are, I guess.” you once again absent-mindedly spoke to your toy friend.

Kids swimming in a fancy resort pool

A Navajo cultural event

More rock archways and red sandstone cliffs

Kids crowding around a claw machine filled with toys just like the one sitting next to you

Kids crowding around a stage as an animatronic band played

Kids crowding around a birthday cake, the light of candles bouncing off their faces as they sang along…

The fake sounding voice of the announcer rung out, “Visit Utah! You know the party can’t start without you!”

Your mouth felt dry. Good thing you now had that glass of water.

***

Of course, you did what any smart, sane person would do and feverishly ripped through the layers of old flyers to get to the advertisement for what you now knew was Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place. A themed diner and nickel arcade that made most of their money hosting birthday parties, by the looks of it. You knew the type; you had been an American child once too.

Good thing none of the cops were hanging around outside to fine you for littering, because the amount of paper you just released into the breeze was in fact criminal.

There was a short list of locations at the bottom of the poster. They had a few scattered over Utah, or at least they used to, judging by the harsh weathering of this poster. The closest one being in Bigwater, explaining why this poster was out here in Tuba. But the word Hurricane stood out to you like it was lit up in neon. It burned like sunlight.

It appears you are in fact on your way to Hurricane, Utah. As if you didn’t know that already at this point, you being out on the canyon rim instead of your much preferred and beloved Rockies. Well, congratulations bitch. You’ve only got another three hours to go. Better get going. Have fun!

***

Oh, this place was creepy as hell. Or it’s just late at night, and you’re sleep deprived and paranoid. In the spirit of being honest to yourself, ‘sleep deprived and paranoid’ has always been your natural state of being, but right now it’s definitely ramped up to an eleven.

But even though it’s been close to 48 hours since your last brain-reset, this place still had a certain energy about it. Like New Orleans, or the woods around lynching bridges did. That spooky oh I am Not Safe here type of energy.

The gas station-man gave you a real weird look when you stormed in and asked where the Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place was. Normally you would’ve chalked it up to you being a clear foreigner asking for directions as if it’s 1995, to a children’s arcade close to midnight nonetheless, but now you weren’t so sure.

You eyed the fridge full of wine in pint sized bottles and little juice cartons. But nah, you probably needed to have a quick reaction time to whatever was waiting for you in this Venus flytrap you’re willingly walking into. You grabbed a Monster instead and you know what, yeah, that probably wasn’t the best decision either. If you weren’t high strung before, you definitely were now. You felt like you could punch a bear. A Freddy Fazbear.

You bought a local map alongside the energy drink, feeling like you were gonna need it. Man, low-tech was actually kinda annoying after a while. You got the gas station-man to begrudgingly mark Fazbear’s down onto it for you. Apparently, it and all other locations within town had closed down some twenty years ago. Not many people are still around who remember why, he said, but it had something to do with the faulty animatronics. Teenagers told ghost stories and dared each other to spend the whole night in the dining room. But otherwise, beyond the rumors, the original Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place was just an empty, scorched building. And the other various locations like Jr’s or Circus Baby’s had been sold off, passing so many hands who knows what businesses were in there now. But you could still kinda tell, if you paid attention, in the same way you can tell if something used to be a Pizza Hut.

What you really wanted, according to gas station-man, whose nametag read Gary, was this new location that was opening soon, simply named Freddy’s Pizzeria. It’s set to open for business in September, so you’re lucky. He marked it one your map as well.

You don’t know why Gary was so nice to you. Maybe it was the harrowed look in your eyes. Maybe it was the twitchiness. Maybe Gary is just very bored of this tourist town and was looking to fall madly in love with a random troubled soul he met at midnight in a gas station and would wind up running away with to some far-off place. If that was the case, sorry Gary. You were too busy with the metaphorical torture labyrinth to care about romance at the moment.

You couldn’t decide if the haunted Fredbear would want to see an old location or the new one. You asked, but of course the fucker didn’t answer. Just sat there with his smug grin and glassy eyes that followed your hand movements. So, you quite literally tossed a coin. A new mint, the face side had Eleanor Roosevelt on it. And she marked the fact that you were going to try the new location first, and then try the original building next. Cool.

***

Your patience was kinda at its limit here, you’ll admit. You really should get some sleep soon. Or eat. Since you were hellbent on getting here and nothing else, the only thing on your stomach besides that wretched Tweety Bird popsicle is half a monster energy. Guess you’ll go by a fucking Denny’s after this. If you survive.

If you were going to die horrifically, you’d really rather the forces that be make it snappy. This was getting ridiculous.

You pulled into the parking lot. The building clearly wasn’t new but had been freshly painted. Nothing creepy so far. As you stared down the building, sizing it up, you noticed there was one car parked in the front, and a few of the windows were lit up.

Cool, so there was someone in there. Great. That makes, well whatever this is, much harder.

The door was locked.

You could hear music playing from inside. You banged on the door as loudly as you could manage, and it still took a couple of minutes before the music stopped. And then a very disgruntled man in coveralls was in the doorway, tiredly asking just what the fuck you wanted at this time of night.

He smiled to cover up his rudeness, but the smile stretched a little too wide, inhumanly wide, and a shiver ran down your spine.

You took him in, unashamedly raking your eyes over his form. He stood awkwardly, as if ready to bolt at any moment. What you could see of his build made him out to be weirdly skinny. That unnaturally wide smile gave way to some exposed teeth on the left side of his face. His eyes were shadowed by his bangs in the backlight of the door, but you swore they almost glowed themselves. His complexion was greyish and bordered on almost purple in this lighting.

Despite all this, he was still pretty handsome. Well, you did always think some of those creepypasta guys were boyfriend material. Maybe, you wouldn’t mind getting chopped up into little pieces if this guy was the one doing it. Okay, and maybe you’ve been sleeplessly chasing ghosts too long.

Startling you, he reached his hand to grab your shoulder, a little too fast.

“Hey mate, are you okay?” He asked nervously,

It snapped you out of your stupor, realizing you had yet to say a word to him, “Uh, yes, I just wanted to…”

How do you even fucking ask this. “Hey, can I bring a stuffed bear to your dining room so maybe it’s spirit will leave me alone? Maybe conduct a séance or something?” Seriously, did you even know what you were doing here? Shit. Okay.

“I wanted to ask if I could check out your facility?” came out like a question because even you had no clue what you were saying.

“Come back tomorrow in the daylight, then,” he began closing the door, shaking his head in annoyance, “or perhaps when we’re actually open.”

“NO!” you slammed your foot into the door as he closed it, “AAGH!”

“Jesus Christ! WHY.”

Dear lord, this man now 100% thinks you’re a crackhead.

“Just, don’t close that door, okay,” his brows scrunched together as you grit your teeth to swallow down the pain, “I need you to help me.”

“I really don’t have any money to spar--”

“I’M HERE BECAUSE OF A GHOST,” you interrupted. Finally, you managed to get that out somehow, if nonsensical.

A look of recognition flickered in his glowing eyes. He lowered into your space, kind of intimidatingly. Or intimately. Yeah, no, this was hostile, don’t fool yourself.

“What kind of ghost,” he asked suspiciously.

“Uh,” shit, okay, “the weird, haunted doll kind? Uh, like the ones the McElroy brothers are always bidding on on eBay. Or maybe this is kind of a Ben Drowned kinda situation, I’m not completely sure.”

He blinked, “okay, I only understood a few of those words, but—”

“It’s a Freddy teddy bear that really wanted me to take it to Hurricane, okay?” You really were at the end of your rope at the moment, “I have literally driven here for days straight on no sleep and barely any food and I need this Unauthorized Fucking Thing to find it’s eternal peace or kill me in some horrible way so I can hurry up and get on with my goddamn life,”

“Uh, see… the thing is,” he started to retreat back again, slowly moving his hands like he was trying to calm down a spooked animal.

 You realized what was about to happen, and it must have been visible in your eyes, since his huge unnatural placating smile returned,

“I actually don’t want anything to do with that, sooo…”

“PLEASE—” you reached out in blind panic, but he dodged it. (now if only you could’ve dodged the scooper like that Mikey)

The door slammed in your face.

Your breathing was ragged and fogged up the glass as he locked it again. You stared up at those glowing pinprick pupils of his as he gave you an apologetic little wave goodbye. And then he fucking made a big show of pointing at the closed sign before turning tail to disappear back into the darkness of the empty restaurant.

Okay.

Just a little setback. You’ll go to the older location first, now, and come back when this asshole is sleeping. Can’t be too hard to bust out one of those windows, and you doubt he has an alarm set up already. It’s his fault, really. If he didn’t want property damage, then he should’ve just let you in. Not like you haven’t warned him that you were desperate or anything.

Just gonna go to the other location. You’ve got your map, you’ve got a tank full of gas, and you’ve got chutzpah.

Now what you don’t have? Is a car that will start.

[scarisd3ad]

The night before Christmas - promptmas day 11

Pairing - mike afton/Schmidt x reader, Abby + mother figure!reader

Warnings - none

Promptmas ‘23 masterlist

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On the night before Christmas, everything seemed to be in chaos. As I got ready to tuck Abby into bed, I found myself running around trying to accomplish everything at once - cooking, cleaning, and doing all the household chores. Suddenly, I found myself in need of a dustpan. “MIKE! Do you know where the dustpan is?!” I shouted from the kitchen. “NOPE! Look in the bathroom!” he replied from the couch. I couldn’t help but feel a bit frustrated with his lack of help. As I passed by the living room on my way to the bathroom, I heard a sigh and the sound of the couch squeaking as Mike got up. As I picked up the dustpan, I felt a gentle arm on my shoulder.

I turn to see Mike’s apologetic look. “What do you need me to do?” he asks softly. I sigh before handing him the dustpan. “Can you sweep the kitchen...and check on the potatoes? I need to tuck Ab in,” he chuckles as he nods. “y’know she doesn’t need to be tucked in. She’s 10,” I shrugged. There was nothing wrong with still being tucked in at 10. Hell, my mom was still reading my sister and me books to sleep at that age.

When I walked into Abby’s room, she was sitting at her desk in her pajamas with a crayon in her hand as she drew. “Alright, Ab time for bed,” I declared. She looks up at me as she drops the crayon in her hand. She sighs “Alright.”

After tucking Abby in, she looked up at me asking, “Do you think Santa knows I want a 64-pack of crayons? I didn’t put it on my list?” I nod. There was a pack secretly tucked away in Mike and I’s closet paired with a pack of the nice sketch paper she liked. “Yeah, Santa he knows everything even if you don’t tell him” Her eyes widen in fear “So he knows about the-“ I quickly nod to shut her up “Yup he knows about that. Just go to bed, alright?” she sighs as her head leans further into her pillow.

After Abby had turned off the lights and we knew she was asleep, Mike and I ended up lying on the living room floor amidst all the gifts, wrapping paper, and tape. By the end of the night, there was tape stuck to parts of our clothing that we couldn’t see, and there were about 5 million presents messily wrapped under the Christmas tree.

-

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[coryosbaby]

content warning . Succubus! Reader, nsfw content below the cut

Luring Mike from the chaos of a friend’s party he had decided to attend, your glowing red eyes trapping him inside your powerful gaze. Nodding your head towards an empty bedroom, enticing the boy with your hips as you move towards it. His steps becoming ever so heavy as he trails behind you, fixated.

Wrapping yourself around him, throwing your head back as his aching cock fills you. His eyes, glazed and hypnotized, scraping over your form as he bites his lower lip. Running your hands through his sandy brown hair, licking at his lips with an intense ferocity. Your teeth, ever so sharp, scraping against his jugular. Delicious, sweet man flesh.

It would be so easy to rip out his throat, now. You could drink from his veins, drain his life away and make it your own. You could wait until he orgasms, that way he’d taste oh so sweeter, and you could lick up his creamy spend from his then flaccid cock. It could be perfect that way.

But…he’s different from the other ones. Looking at him now— strong, hairy chest, brown doe eyes, blushing face— you don’t want to kill him just yet. Especially not when his girthy length is fucking you so good; he’s thrusting in from below you, sweet sounds whining from his throat, utters of, “please,” “so beautiful” “let me cum inside you” falling from his kiss bitten lips. His fingers reach down to play with your clit— oh, he’s not a greedy one, is he? No, no, he likes to please…loves to please. Something powerful surges through you when he makes you cum. If the lights flicker uncontrollably, Mike is too fucked dumb to notice.

He’s trying to make you cum again. At the last minute, right when you’re on the edge of your orgasm, he draws his hand away. His thrusts don’t slow— in fact they increase. Your nails draw blood on his shoulders, and you hiss.

“Little mortal.. playing games, hm?”

A guttural moan rips through his throat, but not before the grin forms on his plump mouth.

“Love to play games.”

His finger goes up to play with your bottom lip, but you push it away.

“I wouldn’t do that,” you warn. “I might bite.”

He laughs— a deliberate, real laugh— and something flutters in your inhuman heart.

“Maybe I do, too.”

[jealousjersey]

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆buzzed ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

꩜ boyfriend!dom!josh futturman uses a vibrator on you for the first time blurb

꩜ tags // josh futturman x reader, vibrator using, smut, 18+ fanfic, futureman fanfic, porn without plot

꩜ mentions // hitachi wand, sub!reader, toy usage, whimpering, moaning, twitching, quivering, whispering, pillow talk, dirty talk, praise, fingering, eating out

꩜ a/n // i love writing for futturman ugh and im gonna write a sub!josh futturman x dom!reader soon fr. and i know he’s a total bottom but let a girl dream pls and i know this is short forgive me

it’s 2:46am, your boyfriend josh has been sleeping all day but god he looks so hot with his messy hair and his mouth slightly open, you wish it was you who his mouth was on.

josh jolts awake, mumbling something about biotic wars? he keeps talking about that game. you always shrug it off. “you finally awake?” you say to him.

his sleep sweat always gets you, his musky scent seems like the best thing you’ve ever smelled. you always worried why you liked that so much, maybe it’s the pheromones or maybe you just need to fuck him.

“oh hey, yeah i’m awake” he rubs his eyes and stretches his left arm after a yawn. “but why are you awake? it’s late you should’ve been asleep hours ago” he teases you. you loved it when he did that but now wasn’t the time, you’re so turned on it’s borderline hurting. you need some release.

“need you. badly” you basically whimper, when did you start to sound so desperate? you don’t know, all that’s clouded in your mind is that new hitachi wand you bought. “get my vibrator out of the drawer please” you beg.

“oh so you’re needy for the wand, huh? not even me?” he teases you. “you’re the one who made me like this. you’re so hot” you tease back.

he gets the vibrator out the top drawer and holds it above your head. “think you can reach it?” he says as you almost jump for it.

“strip for me and maybe you can have it” he says. immediately you take off your panties and his eyes darken with lust as he stares between your legs.

his eyes meet your wet pussy, he’s drooling at the site of it. “god, you’re perfect.” he says as he plugs in the hitachi wand, putting it on the highest setting and meeting your clit.

the vibrations make you quiver. josh chuckles as he sees you squirm, moving the wand around to hear your little whimpers that keep getting louder.

“be quiet like a good girl if you want to cum” he mumbles as he enters his fingers inside you, the wand still on your clit. the site of your cunt leaking is enough to send him into a spiral

“god you look so perfect like this.” he says softly just enough for you to hear him. his fingers fidget inside of you making you whimper. “fuck, please let me cum- i’ve been good” you moan softly as the vibrations score through your sensitive clit.

“not yet baby, this amuses me.” he says as he smirks slightly, almost cooing you. he takes the vibrator off of your now puffy clit and he brings his mouth to it, now sucking on it as his fingers pump inside you, curling gently around your gspot. you moan as he softly bites your clit. it hurt but god it was good.

josh sits the vibrator on the bed still on, as he eats you out, his tongue licks a thick line along your pussy, his saliva mixing with your wetness making a perfect lube for his fingers to slip inside you. he wants to fuck you but this is your night.

you’re so filled with pleasure you’re seeing stars, so close and to release your hands are gripping his hair. “can i please cum now- i’ve been so good” you basically yell, now begging.

“cum for me. you’ve been good” he says to you as his mouth is on you, and at his permission you cum in his mouth, josh licks up all of your release. his head comes up from under you, his face glistening with your cum. god he looks so hot soaked in you.

[jealousjersey]

౨ৎ⋆˚౨ “be a good boy” ৎ⋆｡౨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 request by anon

ᡣ𐭩 sub!clapton x dom!reader

ᡣ𐭩 mentions // “good boy” , “mommy”, fem reader, female parts

ᡣ𐭩 tags // clapton davis x reader, soft!dom , edging, use of “mommy” as referred to reader, pet names , begging , unprotected p in v (wrap it) , oral sex, reader giving , dick sucking , cum drinking , blurb!

clapton has always teased you. whether it was your hair, your clothes or just you in general. and god it was pissing you off. you knew it had to root from some sick crush he has on you but it went so much deeper than that.

that is until you got to be alone with him. it’s like as soon as he came over to your house for some project, he was putty in your hands

“god….just please fuck me” he whimpers as your lips wrap about his tip, using your tongue as you swipe it just on his slit, causing precum to drip out of him.

“you know, you’ve been really bad these last few months, do you think you deserve to be punished? it’s only fair, don’t you think?” you remove your mouth from him and kiss his shaft, leaving lip gloss marks on the parts of him you can’t take in your mouth.

“y- yes mommy. i’ve been bad, please- please punish me. i’ll be a good boy for you….ill be your good boy” he whimpers, his hand almost desperate to push your head down to engulf his aching cock before he stops himself.

“now tell me, do you think you deserve to cum baby? tell me. do you think you deserve it?” you say, no remorse behind your eyes. you love seeing him like this, sweaty and down bad for you.

he shakes his head slowly as a look of defeat washes over him. he knows he doesn’t deserve to be inside you but god, how he wants it so badly. he’ll do almost anything for the taste of your cum.

“but i’ll spare you. i’ll fuck you, but you’ll have to be quiet if you want to cum, can you do that for me? be quiet for me?” you say as you press a kiss on his tip.

“y- yes…mommy.. uh - i…i can do that” he whimpers. but god knows he can’t keep quiet to save his life, always little whimpers and noises coming out of him. you remove your panties, the wetness pooling out of you. you push him back on the bed as you sit comfortably on his throbbing cock, making him whimper at the sensation of being inside your soft wet pussy

his eyes fall to the site of your thighs wrapped around him, his face turning red as he starts bouncing you on top of him, expertly hitting your gspot each time. “i- am- am i being good for you-?” he whimpers as his hands grip your hips, his eyes rolling back in his head as his jaw goes slack.

you look at him, grasping his chin with your hand, making him look at you. “look at me while i use you, let me ruin you. gonna make you such a little slut for me” you say. “gonna be my little whore right?” you say, still gripping his chin with your thumb and index finger, waiting for a response.

“m-mhm, yeah. gonna be your slut- oh fuck mommy-“ he says, his dick twitching inside of you, signaling he’s about to cum.

but god, he’s been so bad these last few weeks you can’t let him off that easily. you remove yourself from off top of him, watching your own release pool out of him, directly on his dick.

he immediately whimpers “no no no, please mommy- come back please…i need to cum- please mommy i’ve been so good” his voice is high and needy, his eyes are worried and panicked.

god, you can’t say no to him. you wrap your plus lips over the head of his dick, bobbing on his dick. your eyes dart up at him- his jaw is slack and his eyes are rolled deep in his head,

“fuck- yes…please mommy, god please.” he whimpers as a loud grunt escapes him. “be quiet if you want to cum” you say, mouth still full of his cock.

he quiets at your request, only letting small soft moans escape his lips. you take his full shaft. after a few moments you feel his hands grip your hair, and his dick twitching in your mouth.

“f- fuck i….m’gonna cum-“ he moans as he thrusts into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. thank god you don’t have a gag reflex.

soon enough thick white warmness shots down your throat, drinking up every bit of his cum. he removes himself from your mouth, you truly drank every last drop of him. short and quiet “thank you”s leave him as he pants.

you wish he would talk back more often.

[jealousjersey]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ⊹₊.༄ pussy pleaser ⊹₊｡₊°❀⋆ೃ࿔*:･

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒ 𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ 🫧 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒ 𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ 🫧 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ 🫧

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ mike schmidt eats you out

a/n: IM BACKKKKK probably won’t post as much, been busy af. more of a short blurb but i promise longer fics coming soon!

mentions: afab fem pronoun reader x munch!mike. cum eating, pussy eating,

˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐚

mikes been obsessed with you since you started babysitting for him. something about you in being in those tight leggings drove him mad. he keeps wondering how you taste, how you look naked, and what your orgasm face looks like. the thought alone consumes him. it gets especially bad when he’s working night shifts, staring at a picture of you from your social media for hours on end, just wondering how you look from his point of view, preferably with his face between your legs.

tonight mike comes home from work to you, sitting on the couch awake. you had already put abby to sleep and you were just up fucking around, reading a book or watching a movie, whatever the case, he’s just glad your awake.

seeing you nearly burns a whole through his jeans, just by looking at your fat ass in your tight leggings he’s already soaking with precum. you consume every waking thought he has.

“hey, surprised you’re still awake” he says softly, noticing the quietness of the room.

“yeah, i tried going to sleep on your couch but i just couldn’t” you say, eyes heavy as you yawn

“do you want me to help you…get to sleep?” he asks, almost innocently. his eyes are full of concern and lust. he needs to taste you. even if it’s just once.

as he says this you have a confused look on your face. “how?” you ask innocently

“i’m gonna eat you out.” he says nervously yet firmly. he needs to do this and he won’t take no for an answer.

“if you insist” you laugh as mike leads you to his room. as soon as you sit on his bed he rips your pants off of you and pulls your panties down just enough so he can lick a thick strip down your folds. you yelp at the warmth of his tongue on you.

mikes eyes are filled with lust and desire as he stares at your cunt, soaking wet. “holy fuck” he whispers at the sight of you. it’s more than he imagined, he worships your pussy. mike can’t get enough of your taste. he pushes his tongue deep inside you as his fingers rub your clit.

mike removes his tongue from you as he suctions himself onto your clit. his fingers curl inside you as you moan softly. “oh fuck mike” you moan softly, his free hand instinctively covers your mouth, muffling you as you bite on his finger, trying your best not to be loud but god you can’t help it.

“mike im gonna cum” you whimper through his hands, still muffling you. you feel him smile as his teeth brush against your clit. he curls his fingers inside you once more, the sensation being all you needed to cum all over his face. he moans unashamed. he gets more pleasure out of this than you think. mike sits up, his face glistening with your liquids. he smiles as he wipes his face with your underwear.

this really was the best sleep aid for you. you don’t even bother to clean yourself up, knowing mike will do it. you start to fall asleep as he gets you dressed in his clothes.

[jealousjersey]

josh futturman bf hcs 📎

some oddly specific. fluff and smut

★ stays in the bathroom sitting on the closed toilet seat while you shower because he’s not done telling you about his day

★ laughs in the middle of intimate moments because of how ridiculous it looks for him to be dating you. he thinks you’re way out of his league

★ can’t keep his hands off of youuuuu he worships the ground you walk on

★ loves period sex, he did his research and knows it’s good for cramps, so why should he let you go through that pain? ;)

★ takes you out to places even though half of the time you end up paying for it. eh, it’s the thought that counts.

★ can’t determine if a stranger is flirting with him until you tell him later that day

★ will attempt to fuck you in any position, he watched a porno of this guy doing really odd positions on the girl so he tries to mimick them. once he fell off the bed.

★ first date you two had he walked straight into a trashcan. you think that’s where you fell in love with him.

★ teaches you how to play different video games. once he yelled at you on accident for getting his character killed and loosing his rank but afterwards he cried for 20 minutes from guilt

★ pretty vanilla in bed, when you suggested spanking he got flustered and said “but i don’t wanna hurt you”

★ let’s you stack donuts on it/wrap fruit roll ups around it/let you hold it while he pisses just because you wanted to

★ “would you still love me if i was a napkin” texts from him

★ thought that a beauty blender was a sex toy

★ makes you order his food in restaurants, he just points at a thing on the menu and mouths “please”

★ matching wallpapers, profile pictures, necklaces, bracelets, stuffed animals…pretty much anything you could think of he wants a matching one with you.

★ spills popcorn on the floor in the movie theater, scoops it all up in his hands so the workers don’t get mad at him

★ wears the shirt that says “don’t bully me i’ll cum :(“ to bed

★ has a “i heart hot moms” tapestry in his room

★ cried at the end of “endgame”

★ called the teacher “mom” on accident in highschool, he’ll never hear the end of it.

★ prefers cats to dogs, his reasoning is “cats won’t rat you out to the cops”

★ prefers slow sex that’s realistically a playlist long. probably listening to the weeknd, bryson tiller, and chase atlantic. not music he’d listen to regularly but it really gets him in the mood

★ first time you had sex with him he came in less than 3 minutes

[jealousjersey]

𐙚₊˚⊹♡”fuck you”⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

ᯓ★ tags : gn!soft!dom!reader x sub!clapton davis. requested by anon.

ᯓ★ enemies to lovers (been wanting to write one of these for so long. tysm anon for bringing me back, i am so unmotivated rn)

ᯓ★ mentions : soft-dom reader x sub clapton davis, edging, degrading kink, vulgar language, unprotected sex, cream pies, both reader and clapton are of age. keep it 18+ guys, porn with plot, mostly just jersey horny rambling

everything is doing well in your last period AP biology class, except one thing. your lab partner is clapton davis. the one person in this school you don’t get along with. he annoys you and teases you whenever he can, honestly you don’t even know how he got into honors classes, you weren’t even sure he was going to college, but that’s none of your business right now.

“hey loser” clapton sits beside you and smacks his gum in his mouth. you hate when he does that, or anything really. “do you have any idea what we’re doing? i’ve been confused this entire time” he says genuinely. for the first time in his life he actually wants to ask for help.

“uh yeah, we’re just supposed to research stem cell differentiations. it’s easy don’t worry we can get this done in like 20 minutes” you say confidently. you actually have no idea how to go about this project but honestly it doesn’t matter.

“oh, okay. are we gonna do the project at my house or yours?” he asks, almost nervous to ask.

“mine is fine” you say as his face turns a light shade of pink from the invitation. he quickly hides his face, and especially the blush creeping up on his cheeks.

“you know, you’re pretty cute when you’re quiet” you tease. obviously trying to get under his skin.

“s-shut up. just shut up” he sutters, the pink still on his cheeks. this makes you giggle, seeing how he just melts when you take charge, when over something as simple as directing a project.

after the bell rings, you get out of your chair and pack your things up, clapton frantically says “hey, wait up-”

you take your earbud out and reply with a simple “hm?”

“am i riding with you- or-?” he asks, almost unsure about the situation.

“yeah, you can ride with me. just- wipe your shoes before you get in my car” you say as you lead him out to the parking lot to your forest green dodge charger srt. he’s almost in awe of your car. he now knows why you asked that of him.

as you two ride to his house, you notice something. is he fucking hard right now? you think as your eyes gaze at his bulge in his pants. you let out a small chuckle on accident.

“what?” clapton asks, repositioning himself to where his package isn’t on full display. he now knows you know, and god is he embarrassed. his cheeks are bright red as his leg bounces up and down

“you- you got something in your pants clapton” you laugh. obviously teasing him at this point.

“just- just drive, okay?” he says, face pink as a beam of sweat falls from his forehead. god he’s cute when he’s nervous.

as you both arrive at your house, he goes inside with his bookbag on. you lead him to your room, a minimalist decorated with colorful art on the walls. your room looks like a museum, well it a museum had a tv and a cd player- but nonetheless, your room was nice and clapton liked it. he especially liked the vanilla scent in your house.

“so- let’s address it, why did you get all hot and bothered in my car?” you mention, and it’s obvious now. he’s blushing like crazy, just like a little sub. it’s really adorable actually, but you just want to see how far you can take this.

he doesn’t respond, but his bulge is back. and you just have to take care of this, before any work can get done. “you want some help?” you offer as you smile teasingly. he just nods his head up and down acceptingly, he needed this, especially after you teasing him almost made him cum in his pants.

you unbuckle his jeans and he whimpers at the touch of you. god he was such a little bottom for you, just putty in your hands. as you get his pants off, you notice the precum leaking through his boxers and you immediately get turned on by the sight. you imagine the taste of his cum and how his dick would feel twitching inside of you.

you take his throbbing dick out of his boxers, he’s average but girthy. the tip is bright pink, soaked in precum. as you hold his cock on your hands you rub your thumb over his slit. he twitches instantly. “fuck, please- please fuck me” he whimpers. you smile at the sound of his groans for you. “you gonna be a good boy? gonna listen to me and do what i say?” you ask.

“fuck…yes i’ll be a good boy….just for you.” he says as he bucks his hips into your hands. you smile at his response, just what you wanted to hear. you sit on his cock and bouncing up and down, overstimulating him as his jaw goes slack as he moans softly “fuck…fuck yes…god you feel s’good” his eyes roll back in his head as his dick twitches inside you

“fuck, fuck- i’m- gon- gonna cum” he stammers. “cum inside, you’ve been a good boy.” you reply.

he shoots hot thick lines of cum inside you, filling you up. he’s so far inside you that there’s not even a chance of him for you to leak out. he basically bred you, but god it felt so good.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀

[jealousjersey]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖”come home”⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

☆ tags // mike schmidt x reader, loser!mike x dom!gn!reader,

☆ mentions // mike is a needy loser who begs for your attention, dick sucking, edging, cum drinking, reader doms mike, angst, fluff, smut, needy and desperate mike, reader has like wrapped around their finger., missionary, unprotected p in v (wrap it) minors dni 18+

☆ a/n // i still love writing for mike schmidt this is heaven ty lou

your work has been consuming you, working long hours, barely coming home on time, sleeping all until your next shift and just being busy. your boyfriend, mike, hates it. he hates that you’re never home, he hates that he never sees you, and he hates that you two haven’t had sex in weeks.

he’s been a brat about it ever since you took more hours, and he never took the time to realize that you’re only working so hard to provide for things he’d want, i mean, you are the house breadwinner. ever since his pizzeria secrurity job ended you’ve had to work since he couldn’t get hired anywhere.

as you’re working you get texts after texts from mike. “are you gonna be home on time?” “i miss you.” “i need you it’s been so long” he spams you.

god, he’s so needy. you roll your eyes at the text. if he doesn’t chill the hell out for atleast 3 more hours you’re going to loose your mind, does he not know that it’s hard for you too?

as the hours go by you think of ways to surprise him. maybe some lingerie? maybe a new toy for you two to experiment with? maybe some flavored lube? the possibilities are endless. you count down to the second you get off your shift, simply texting mike “wait up on me, i have a surprise.” as you clock out and go to your car.

you arrive at the nearest mall and get a cute lingerie set from the Spencer’s located within. a black lacy bra with a golden heart charm between the breasts, the bottom piece is a black and lacy with “baby” on the butt written in rhinestones. you knew he would love it but you didn’t expect him to like it as much as he did.

as you’re getting back in your car to drive home, you get a sudden rush of excitement. wondering how he’ll react at the site of you. you even put on red lipstick to top it all off. as you arrive at home, you change into your new set in your car, it fit perfectly around your shape. you swiftly but your work clothes back on. you still need this to be a surprise.

you enter the house and throw your keys on the kitchen table. you walk into your room and mike is waiting patiently for you, god his bulge is showing just by the thought of you coming home.

before he could say anything you strip as soon as you get through your door, watching his eyes gaze at your body in your new set. giving him a spin around so he could see your rhinestone covered ass.

mikes eyes widen at the site of you, a wet spot already forming at the tip of the tent in his sweatpants. “oh my god” he says softly as he stares at your figure.

you stand in your set in front of him, your fingers dancing across your chest, driving him crazy. you get on your knees in front of him and bring his sweatpants down, followed by his boxers. pulling them down just below his balls. his dick springs out of his pants, hot and red at the tip with precum pooling out.

you leave one kiss on his tip as your lips take in his precum. leaving the red lipstick kiss mark on his dick. he immediately groans at the sensation, feeling better than he has in weeks just by the expectation of you giving him head.

but you’re not giving in that easily. you kiss and lick around his shaft, but never long enough for him to get a release from it, your lipstick leaving red stains all around his hard on.

“please suck, i’ve been thinking about it all night please” he pleads with almost tears in his eyes from the overstimulation. it’s so cute seeing him like this but who are you to say no to his request?

as per his request you start, you wrap your red lips around his tip and his hand pushes your head down, it’s almost insulting but god, it’s so needy of him and that drove you crazy. you fully emerge yourself around him and he lets out a sore whimper.

you gag on his dick as you’re sucking, he throws his head back and keeps his hand on the back of your head, gripping on your hair. his dick twitches in your mouth signaling he’s close to cumming. “m’gonna cum” he moans, only the whites of his eyes showing. as his words hit your ears you stop, red lipstick covering the shaft of him.

he looks devastated at your action. “please let me cum, i’ve been waiting so long.” he begs. it’s almost cute how desperate he is for you. you want to keep going for him but you stop yourself. “now is it really fair if you get to get off and i don’t? is that fair? i’ve been waiting just as long as you have.” you say

you push him back on the bed, his dick springing up, tip still red and sensitive. you wrap your hands around him, feeling the warmth of him.

you basically rip your panties off of yourself, positioning yourself on top of him, sliding his dick inside you, grinding on him as you look him in the eyes. “you look so pretty when i’m overstimulating your dick. so, so pretty.” you say as you place a hand on his cheek

he moans your name as he places his hands on your hips, so tightly that you’re certain it’ll leave bruises. you want that, the pain would be a reminder of this amazing night.

your hair flips around your neck, your face flushed with a pink tint and sweat beaming off your forehead. his dick assaults your walls as his tip brushes your gspot causing you to let out a soft moan of his name. his fingers make their way to your clit, moving soft circles along it, making you pant soft sounds.

mike almost cums on contact with your body, but he knows he has to stop himself. he has to make this good for you. he has to make this last as long as he can. “fuck, i’m gonna cum mike.” you whimper. he speeds up, hitting your gspot with each thrust he leads you to bounce on.

“m’so close” you whimper, his fingers bring themselves to your chest, god he loved it so much. especially in that new bra. his teeth graze your nipples, biting them so softly but it feels so much more intense this way. so intimate, yet so dirty.

“can i cum now? please” he moans. how could you say no? “cum in me, please cum in me” you say, and he does. leaving thick white pools in you, the warmth making you shake as you finish, as you remove yourself from on him, you pour out a mix of both of your releases. he brings a finger to your wetness and brings it up to his mouth, sucking on them. he loves the taste of you.

please come home earlier next time.

[jealousjersey]

sneaky link derek hcs

derek sends one of his cars to get you when he’s feeling needy

derek marks you up, leaving bites, hickies, scratches…anything to keep anyone else off of you. you’re his.

derek sexts you when he’s away and misses you, being the presidents son he’s very busy but always makes time for you.

derek loves masturbating on the phone with you, facetiming you and jerking off while moaning your name as you play with your toy

derek loves to have you alone with him, he has the urge to recreate porn scenes with you and him, sometimes filming them for later use.

derek eats you out in his car, picking you up unannounced because he craves the taste of you, not minding wether you shaved or not. just craving you and you alone.

derek always makes you cum more than once, mot feeling satisfied unless you’re squirming and begging for him to stop. he loves you when you’re overstimulated and outfucked.

derek gets jealous when you have plans that don’t involve him, blowing up your phone and even making you leave plans to go with him.

derek fucks you long and slow, making sure you feel every ridge of him pushing in and out of you, running the makeup you put on for him. he pushes down on your stomach to stimulate you.

[jealousjersey]

₊˚ʚ ₊🌱 ₊˚”do what i say”🌱 ₊˚ ₊˚ʚ

✿ // dom!clapton x sub!reader blurb (since i gave yall a dom!reader x sub!clapton this is only fair for my bottom babies<3)

✿ tags // sub!gn!bottom!reader x dom!top!male!clapton davis. smut ofc, porn without plot minors/ageless blogs dni

✿ mentions // !!degrading!!, praise, breeding, reader gets edged for a moment, begging, “good girl” is mentioned, a lot of clapton sex talk in this one. missionary & doggy style, ass slapping (yummy) unprotected p in v, cumming inside

✿ a/n // i love writing for clapton this is so fun. sorry this is so short guys pls forgive me

“hey, come over” clapton texts you. it’s always that message that gets you but you can’t resist. as you get to his house he greets you at the door, then taking you inside.

as soon as you get in his room he locks the door and pushes you on the bed, kissing you passionately yet gently. his lips are a little chapped but god he tastes good. he takes his clothes off and rips yours off after. he needs to be inside you.

he lays you on the bed and spreads your legs, leaning his head down to lick a thick straight line across your already soaking pussy. “gonna make your pussy mine.” he mumbles with you in his mouth. the vibrations from his voice against your pussy makes you flinch, you’re so sensitive right now. his tongue grazes inside of you, licking you clean from your previous wetness.

“dirty slut, already wet and needy for me. learn to control yourself or i will for you.” he degrades you. his words make you whimper with your sweet voice.

clapton pulls his boxers down. his dick is average but thick. and god, so hard for you. he inserts it softly, edging you until you’re almost drooling. “beg for my cock” he teases you, precum leaking out of his tip. “if you don’t beg, you won’t get to feel me.” he adds.

“need your cock, please god- need it in me. need you so badly” you whimper. “that’s my good girl” he says as he pumps his dick inside of you, you swore you could feel it in your stomach. you let out a gentle moan as he takes it in and out of you.

“my pretty fucking whore.” he moans “god you’re perfect” he says as his eyes roll. “faster” you moan. and at your request he does, he speeds up, pounding inside of you.

“such a slut for my dick” he mumbles as a beam of sweat shows on his forehead. “you’re such a pretty whore when you’re taking my cock. god you’re so good.” he moans as he holds your legs beside his head, making sure to get deep inside of you.

“gonna make you take every last drop of my cum like a good girl. you think you can do that?” he asks. all you can reply back is a simple nod and a whimper.

as he pumps faster as his dick twitches inside of you. “fuck you’re so pretty” he moans as his eyes roll back in his head.

“gonna breed you, make you have my fucking kid” he says as he pushes deeper inside you. “m-mhm i’m yours…only yours” you whimper as you bite your lip, god you’re really gonna be sore tomorrow.

you’re overstimulated by the pleasure he’s causing you, wanting to be able to cum so badly. “can i- i please cum-?” you whimper, body shaking as he pushes into you. “not now, wait until i tell you you can, can you do that?” he grunts. you nod, almost having tears in your eyes from the sensation.

within seconds clapton turns you on your stomach and fucks you deep, doggy style, slapping your ass as he pulls your hair. “gonna take me like a good fucking slut, you hear me?” he mumbles as you arch your back so you can take him better.

clapton is so close to cumming inside you, but he stops himself. you have to go first before him. “you gonna cum for me?” he asks as he puts his hands on your hips and thrusts into you strongly. “can i?” you ask with sincerity, like this is foreign to you because it’s felt like it’s been hours since you last asked.

“cum on my dick, soak me.” he says, slowly pulling his dick out and back into you, letting you leak out onto his bed sheets. “good girl, such a good little slut.” he coos to you as he thrusts deeper into you. now it’s his turn.

his dick twitches inside of you before spilling, giving you every last drop of himself. you feel the warm liquid pool inside of you. he’s so far deep inside you that you wouldn’t leak out anything.

“holy fuck” clapton says, panting almost as you chuckle.

[jealousjersey]

can you write more for peeta? thanks :)

pent up smut blurb

a/n : “can you write more peeta” “you don’t post for peeta” “can you write for peeta” “we need more peeta” LISTEN IM WORKING ON IT PLS BELIEVE ME

tags : peeta mellark, peeta x reader, peeta mellark x reader, peeta mellark smut, gender neutral reader, no gender specified, anon requested, pubic hair mentioned, hole are being used, big bick peeta moment

there’s one thing about peeta that everybody knows: he fucks good and hard. of course it’s not your favorite that people know dick boyfriend is good in bed…but hell, if you get dick like that every night; who the hell cares

peeta comes home in a rush, after a long shift he needs the release of you sucking him into your tightness. just the thought alone makes him shiver and almost cum in his pants

out of all the people he’s been with, you’re the only one who can fuck him dry and he never complains.

peeta bursts into the room, seeing you on the couch reading some fuckass book you got as a gift. he looks over at you and practically pounces on you, covering your neck in kisses and love bites. god, is making bread that stressful? you have to question as your mind fills with blurs.

“you have no fuckin clue how badly i needed this baby…” he says, voice harsh and eyes dark with lust you’ve only seen in exaggerated movies.

“bad day?” you moan, his teeth sinking into your neck. the way your soft skin bruises under his control shakes him, turning him on even more than he thought was possible. he hums into your neck lazily, already drunk on you before he even has a taste.

you start to strip for him, pulling your shirt and shorts off. his eyes have a new hunger in them; the taste of your release flooding memories into his brain.

you spread out for him, laying on your back on the lumpy couch. the way his body looks above you is something out of a renaissance painting, and god is it beautiful.

his hands roam around your body, feeling every withering inch of your plush skin. his calloused hands leave soft scratches along your thighs, parting them for him.

he strips his belt off, filling the room with a “whip” noise that turns you on ben more than peetas neediness,

as his pants come down his boxers strain with a tent, aching to be let out and touched. you take his boxer elastic and hook your fingers in the hem, pulling them down.

his dick springs out and it’s the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen; red, hot and dripping with precum. he sucks his teeth as the cold air hits him, his pretty dick just begging to be touched.

you spread your legs for him and he groans, seeing you drip for him gives him all the encouragement. he slips himself inside of you and a guttural moan escapes him.

“fuck you’re so tight” he whimpers, moving back and forth to get a steady pace while also keeping mind of where your gspot is.

“fuck you’re so big” you reply, gasping in surprise. this isn’t the first, second, or even the tenth time you’ve had sex with him but the excitement never leaves, every time feels new.

he starts thrusting in and out of you harder, loosing control of his pace. you cry out in pleasure, tears dripping down your cheek from how intense it all is.

“f-fuuck” he moans loudly, keeping his hands around your hips as he sees the mess you are, the mess he made, his mess. peeta can never get enough of seeing you fucked out for him

his dick twitches inside your tight hole and his movements speed up faster than you thought they could, racing in and out of you just destined for his pubic hair to leave a burn on your subtle skin.

you’re clenching around him as he repeatedly hits your g spot, pushing you almost over the edge. “i’m close…m’so close” you whimper. his thumb comes up and wipes the tear from your face

“just a few more okay? can you be good for me and do that? yeah…course you can” he moans with his head in your neck, his sweat dripping down on you making a salty puddle on your chest

you nod, completely overwhelmed and overstimulated by the feeling he’s causing you. he takes his hand and uses his thumb to rub over your stomach, gently pushing down - making you take him even more.

he places both of his hands on each part beside l your head to keep himself elevated. you moan loudly his name to keep yourself from cumming too soon.

“fuck i’m close baby, let me feel you, cum all over my dick, yeah? yeah…” he groans. at his words you instantly come over edge, cleaning around him and letting your release come.

he groans at the newfound wetness you brought and his hips stutter. you feel a warm liquid fill you and you know he’s finished now. he pulls out after a moment and lays beside you.

after a moment of panting and coming down, you have the guts to say

“you really do fuck like they say”

[jealousjersey]

promptober day 5 ; motorbike

save a bike ride mike 🤭

[jealousjersey]

can u do something for peeta? :3 btw i love the stuff u write already :)

alright the peeta peer pressure has gotten to me, highly requested peeta mellark smut and fluff headcanons

both characters are over 18. post movie

bread boy hc’s 🍰🥯

🍰- he talks you through it, fucking you senseless as he holds your legs up and places kisses on the inside of your thigh. muttering things like “so good” , “perfect” , “so pretty” into the softness of your skin. he lets you know how good you feel around him as he thrusts into you like you’ll disappear if he stops.

🥯- he’s very affectionate towards you. never stops kissing you and clinging onto you like you’re the most precious thing on earth. he’s so lucky to have you.

🍰- he always cums inside, watching you leak his cum always mesmerized him. after he pulls out he shoves his calloused thumb inside you and pushes it back in, causing you to gasp everytime although it’s a routine.

🥯- loves the thought of growing old with you, having kids, and raising them. he often thinks about how amazing it would be to have their kids look at you two and say “my parents really love eachother.” it’s all he could want.

🍰- he has fantasies of fucking you in public, having everybody watch how good you take him, how perfect your moans are, and how you’re his. he thinks about having you walk around with his cum dripping down your leg. he has wet dreams about it often.

🥯- he made a mixtape for you, he knows it’s cheesy and all romantic. he got embarrassed when giving it to you but when you loved it he got all confident even though he was screaming on the inside in fear you wouldn’t like it.

🍰- he gets pussy drunk inside you, blabbering utter nonsense in your ear as he cums deep inside you, he fucks you slow and rough. his fingernails indent into your hips hard enough to leave bruises come morning.