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#josh hutchinson
delicioushottubpeanut · 6 months
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♡ babysitter
oneshot - inspired by that one edit
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fandom: five nights at freddys (movie)
paring: mike schmidt x fem!reader
warnings: nsfw 18+, dry humping, sexual tension, kissing, friends to lovers, cumming in pants, submissive mike, foul language, teasing, smut, riding, dom reader, consensual sex, age gap, minors dni..
You've heard a lot about him from Abby, mainly bits and pieces that she's told you, but nothing really about him and the only thing he really says to you is that he's eventually going to pay you back. But you always refuse.
The old couch squeaks softly as he sits beside you, a gentle hand goes to reach your face but hesitates.
He’s been very busy for a while now that he has started his new job at a security guard that was shut down ages ago. When he comes home he's always so tired, like he's a different person. As if he cannot relax. You hear the door open and slam back as it he closes it.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't hear you come back.." You whisper, groaning whilst you move out of the position you had been in for a while. Yawning as you gently wipe your eyes.
Mike looks at you, half-smiling as he leans against the cushions. He's tired, you can tell. "Sorry if I woke you, you looked exhausted, so I just wanted to cover you," he whispers back, stretching his arms. "Did Abby go okay for you?" he asks.
"I told her it's bedtime an hour ago, but you know how it is with little ones." You joke.
"Abby was great, she missed you, though.." You smile sheepishly, shifting on the coach to face him. "How was work?" You ask, seeing the slight bags under his eyes.
Mike chuckles softly, leaning his head back and letting out a deep sigh as he stares up at the ceiling.
"It was long," he sighs. "I mean, I've gotten used to it, of course, but god, it's draining..." He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, looking off to the side and fiddling with his fingers, trying to find the right words to explain what just happened at work. He seems hesitant to say.
"You okay? You can talk to me if something is bothering you." Hesitantly placing your hand on his shoulder, slowly forcing him to look at you. You've known him for years due to babysitting Abby, but he's never opened up.
"Well... it's just..." Mike sighs again, still not meeting your eyes. "...Abby asked me some questions about stuff today."
He rubs the back of his neck, shifting in his seat as if he's about to say something and then thinks better of it. He leans back against the coach, letting out a frustrated grunt as his eyebrows pinch in frustration. "I... I just can't tell her."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" You whisper, staring at him, waiting for a response.
Mike's face softens a little, looking over at you before he sighs, shaking his head. "It's nothing. Abby asked about the job, and... well, it got me thinking..." He shrugs his shoulders again, still looking off to the side.
"Look, I'll tell Abby about it myself, I don't... I shouldn't put it on you..." He sighs one again, staring at the floor.
"If you need me, don't hesitate." You place your hand on his thigh, squeezing it for reassurance. Gaining confidence, you slowly move your body off the couch and sit on his lap.
"Oh..." Mike says quietly, his face turning bright red as you place your hand on his thigh. He looks down at you, his expression of uncertainty on his face changing as his eyebrows rise.
He's speechless, frozen in shock at your touch, and his entire face is practically bright pink. He's suddenly a lot warmer, his chest heaving as his heartbeat picks up speed. "... Y- you're..." he says with the last of his breath, his brain having trouble finding the right words to say.
"Is this okay..?" You grind against his lap, whispering against his ear.
"Shit..." He stammers, his brain desperately trying to process what you're doing. He looks confused, his eyes drifting down to you as his mind races.
"What... what are you... n- no, it's... we can't..." Mike stutters, trying to find a way to reject you. But the longer you're in his lap, the harder it is for him to say no.
"Just relax, Abby is fast asleep in her room.." You grind harder against him, using your index finger to tilt his chin up, making eye contact when you suddenly hear him whimper.
"T- this isn't the time..." he mumbles in response, his eyes closing at the sensation and his whimpers becoming more noticeable.
"W- we shouldn't be doing this..." he whispers, his arms hesitating in the air for a moment before they eventually wrap around your waist. He's still torn between going along with it or saying no, his heart racing as he gazes at you.
"Beg for me to continue." You stop moving your hips, feeling his arousal throb against your ass. Wanting to see how he would react.
"P- please... God.." he whispers, the breath catching in his throat and his voice turning raspy.
He looks at you, his eyes pleading, his body quivering under your control. His heart is pounding out of his chest. He swallows, looking up at you as his entire body screams for you to keep going while his mind fights back.
"You can do better than that.." You tease, breathing against his neck, gently creating bruises as you feel his slightly breath hitch.
Mike whimpers loudly when he feels your bites, his muscles tensing as he tries to relax.
"H- I- please, don't stop..." he murmurs hoarsely, sounding completely different than you've ever heard before. He whimpers again, his head tilted back as he tries to hide the pleasure in his face. He can't believe what he's doing, but he can't turn away.
"Good boy.." Slowly reaching to take off your top, revealing your covered breasts as you start to grind against him, pushing your panties to the side, creating a wet spot on his jeans.
Mike looks down at you, taking in the view as your top is removed, his face getting even pinker as his heart races.
He swallows nervously in response to your wetness, his eyes trailing down your body before they eventually turn back to your face. His cheeks are bright red, his breathing heavy as he glances back down at you, looking into your eyes as you look into his. He takes a long, drawn-out breath, his entire body quivering with anticipation.
"Just take what you want, Mike, no one is stopping you.." You tease, eagerly watching his reaction.
"I- it's..." Mike starts to say, but he can't say no to you, not right now. He leans back, pushing himself deeper into you like he can't help himself, the breath catching in his throat as he takes in the sensation. His eyes are closed as he tries to ignore his own morals.
His eyes snap open, his lips parted as he whispers, "More.."
"You close?" Whispering seductively, moving harder as you feel your climax coming fast.
"Oh, god..." Mike breathes out, his face red, and his eyes roll back into his head. He moans, bucking his hips up against you, feeling himself come close to release as he cums in his pants, feeling you come down from your high.
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bs-fangirl · 1 year
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Can’t believe that poor Peeta survived two Hunger Games, months of torture, and a war on the Capitol…
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Only to be forced into a night shift security guard job at a pizzeria to support Katniss and their two kids.
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Times are tough in Panem.
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pyro-chaos · 6 months
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Mike Schmidt x Reader
Sometimes
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Pt. 2. to This Series
Summary: How life’s going with the new roomie!! Smutttyyy, kinda smutty
Tropes: And they were roommates. Smut fluff, and a smidge of angst
Word count: 2317
A/N: Yooo, this is my first attempt at writing something… saucy. Lol, what do you think??
At first, Mike had reservations about moving in with you.
He thought it would… change the relationship dynamic.
It does, but not in the way he expects.
“Morning, Abby’s brushing her teeth,” you hand Mike a plate of toast with jam and scrambled eggs, “I have to stay late today. Our department has a project due.”
Mike nods, “Okay,” he swallows a mouthful of eggs, “what time should I go for you?”
You put the egg pan in the sink, on top of two other plates.
“Actually, I’m going out tonight. So I think you’re good until tomorrow morning”
Honestly, it surprised him a bit, when he found out you had other friends.
Well, that sounds bad, he’s just surprised by the activity within your social life. It makes him crave something he didn’t know he cared about.
“Will you be home tonight?” He asks.
You gulp down the last of your coffee like a shot. Then you shrug, “I wouldn’t count on it, but maybe.”
Mike swallows his last bite and takes his plate to the sink, “Okay, be safe.”
You smile and finish getting ready for the day. Mike does the dishes.
To be honest, Mike loves having a roommate.
You split the bills evenly. Mike takes half the rent, you take the water bill. Mike gets electric, but you have the insurance.
It’s nice. It feels like he found an island after struggling to keep afloat.
He can afford to go way down in hours. Rather than carry the weight of two full-time jobs, Mike only has to manage one, with the odd double shift.
There’s a park within walking distance from your house. It has a tire swing. Mike has the time to walk Abby there on weekends, and the energy to give her a boost.
Sometimes, You come home smelling like booze.
Sometimes, Mike stays up past Abby’s bedtime to make lunches for the next day. Or to catch up on forgotten chores.
Sometimes, he stays up just ‘cause he can do that now; without feeling mind-crushing guilt.
Sometimes, you run into each other on those nights.
It’s Friday night, a week after you successfully completed the work project, and you stumble into the house at an odd hour.
You smell like a mix of someone else’s cologne and cheap alcohol. Your lipstick is smudged and your clothes look ruffled.
Mike watches you wobble to the sink after kicking off your shoes.
He pretends not to notice the hickeys littering your neck while you chug a glass of water.
“Rough day?” He means it as a joke, but Mike doubts the concerned tilt of his eyebrows makes it seem like one.
“MMmm nuh uh” you answer; slightly out of breath, “S-sorry, just a lil’ thirsty.”
Mike chuckles. He puts a bowl of leftover pasta in the microwave.
If anyone ever asked, he’d deny it until his tongue fell out. But Mike thinks you're cute drunk, and he likes how the curve of your breasts peek out of that top.
Nights like this make him feel kind of gross. He goes to bed soaked with guilt because he knows he shouldn’t ogle anyone like he’s ogling you.
If you ever found out about how he stared at you after you slumped into a kitchen stool, he’d kill himself.
You’re wearing a skirt, and he can see… he can see the inside of your thighs. You’re slouching too. He can see the trail of purple outline your collar bones, and lead into - No.
He sets the bowl of pasta in front of you and then sits down across from you. He’s praying you didn’t see him twitch under his pants.
You slowly eat the pasta, like you’re having trouble feeling your mouth.
Mike stirs his tea.
He tries not to think about your mouth.
When you’re finished, you look a little less, unbothered. Your eyes go a little dark, and you’re holding your head up awkwardly.
“Ready for bed?” Mike questions. He hopes you don’t hear the desperation hidden in the softness of his voice.
You nod.
He leaves an old pot by your bed before heading to his own room.
Nights like this, Mike feels how long it’s been since he’s gotten pussy.
His dick is throbbing. It’s begging, and it hurts, but he fucking refuses to give in.
Mike tries to clench his legs and think about anything, other than how you might’ve looked riding someone else’s dick.
His hips buck up into nothing.
Your tits would bounce. The other guy probably loved it. Mike bets the other guy couldn’t resist popping your nipples into his mouth. Or maybe he used his hands. Maybe he gripped your tits so hard that you saw stars.
Mike rolls over - face down - his pelvis squishes his boner into the bed at this angle. He’s glad for the pillow that swallows his groan.
He thought the new position would help, but it doesn’t, the friction just makes everything worse.
Mike can’t get those damn hickies out of his head. They’ve seared into his mind like a brand that just keeps bleeding. He wants to lick them. He wants to know what you’d do if he licked them.
Oh god, and your thighs.
It takes him a moment to realize that he’s grinding against his sheets.
He huffs, practically ripping off his boxers and gripping the base of his dick.
He gives in.
He thinks about how you’d look sprawled on his bed.
What would you do? - Mike wonders - if you woke up to him between your thighs?
Mike would go slow, he’d go so slow, and he’d make it feel good. He wouldn’t leave until you shake.
He’d spread you open first; let your legs rest open like a monument. He might indulge himself with a kitten lick along your clit.
Then, he’d slide a finger through your slit.
Would you want to sit on his face?
Mike's balls go tight, his dick jumping as he imagines your weight on his tongue.
He licks his lips, hoping to taste something he’s never had.
He finishes all over his stomach, and tries not to imagine how you’d look licking it up.
He doesn’t know how he’s gonna look into your eyes tomorrow.
It's Saturday, and Mike said he’d give you a ride to a car that you found on Craigslist.
“What happened to your car?” Abby asks at the beginning of the drive.
Mike glares at his sister through the mirror, but he can’t shush her without revealing that he’s already figured out what happened to your car.
“It’s not mine anymore” you respond. Your tone isn’t sad, or forlorn, but the mood shifts anyway.
Mike fills the awkwardness by asking what Abby wants for lunch.
You don’t end up buying the car.
The guy on Craigslist listed the car under Used, Like New but the car was definitely not, Like New.
You apologize to Mike so many times he stops keeping count, but he really doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal.
He had to look for months before he found a reliable car for an affordable price.
He’s sure to tell you as much, but he still finds extra cash in his glove compartment the next day.
Sometimes it feels like you don’t think of him as a friend, just someone you’re living with.
It bothers him.
You go out again on Sunday night, you come home smelling even worse.
Mike’s in the living room when he hears something fumble with the locks. At first, he thinks nothing of it, but then he hears a thump against the door.
Mike peeks through the peephole, and rolls his eyes after he watches you almost eat shit when you lose your footing.
You’re too drunk to stand on your own. Mike doesn’t even bother to ask if you’re okay, he just helps you to your room and puts the old pot near your bed, again.
Abby sleeps across the house, so she doesn’t hear you puke your guts out at 3a.m.
Mike does, and it makes him feel something bad. It’s a feeling he’s not used to associating with you. Disappointment? Disgust?
Something like that - there’s a bit of anger in there too - but it’s also mixed with worry. You’re not the type of person to get black-out drunk on a Sunday night.
But still, that’s two nights this week you’ve come home drunk.
In literally any other circumstance, Mike would mind his own business, but you live with Abby now.
He remembers the little furrow of Abby’s brow when he told her that you got sick. How worried would Abby get if she heard you puking in the middle of the night? How the fuck could he even begin to explain that to her?
Mike doesn’t want her to be around someone who’s drinking themselves stupid; It’s dysfunctional. Didn’t you have enough respect for Abby to understand that?
He’ll talk to you about it tomorrow night, but tonight, he checks the medicine cabinet. Just to make sure you have enough aspirin for tomorrow morning.
The next morning goes normally. You make breakfast. Abby gets ready. Mike does the dishes.
He doesn’t want to deal with the aftermath of the upcoming conflict quite yet.
Mike just picked you up from work. You applied extra makeup this morning to cover up the dark circles under your eyes, but Mike knows they’re there.
“So, wanna talk about what happened last night?” He doesn’t even bother hiding the judgment from his tone.
“What happened last night?”
Mike feels a flame of anger roll through his body. He has to take a breath before responding, “Don’t play dumb”
You stop sipping on your coffee and lean against the back of the seat. You look out the window for a moment, like you’re thinking really hard about something.
Mike’s thumbs lightly tap the steering wheel. He can feel his temper simmer under his vertebrae.
You lick your lips, and fiddle with the hem of your shirt, “Okay, but first I want to apologize.”
He stays silent, but he’s a little surprised.
“I’ve been irresponsible, and inconsiderate, and I’m really sorry. It’s not fair for you to have to deal with the fallout of my bullshit.”
Mike agrees, but he’s not sure what he could say without expressing that agreement. So, he stays silent.
You rub your eyes, “Oliver and I broke up.”
Mike knows this. You didn’t tell him, but he lives with you, it’s not that hard to put two and two together. Why does it matter?
“I thought I was gonna spend the rest of my life with him, you know?”
Oh. No. He didn’t.
“I just… I’ve been taking it kind of hard,” you sit up, and your voice gains a bit of confidence, “it’s not an excuse, though. I promise it won’t happen again.”
Mike hears your promise, and releases a long breath he didn’t know he was holding.
You wanted to spend the rest of your life with Oliver. That’s… it makes sense that you’ve been getting drunk a lot.
“It’s okay,” he adjusts his hold on the steering wheel, and keeps his tone soft; like he’s trying to caress you with words, “it’s just with Abby - you know?” he shrugs and allows his sentence to hang in the air.
“No, yeah absolutely, I get it. I’m sorry I put you both in that position.”
Your words sound genuine.
Mike literally feels the fight flood out of his nervous system. The emptiness leftover makes him want to go to sleep.
The thought of the conversation tugged on his brain all day, like he was unconsciously gearing up for a fight, and now that it’s over he feels drained.
The drive stays silent until he arrives at Abby’s school. But it’s not submissive or uncomfortable silence. Mike doesn’t feel suffocated by the lack of conversation.
He’s parked at the front of the school when you talk again.
“Are we okay?” you ask, and the softness of your tone makes Mike melt.
“Yeah,” for the first time in the entire conversation - Mike looks at you - and he’s kind of surprised to find you already looking at him, “Yeah, we’re okay.”
Mike did not expect the apology, but he’s glad he got it.
If he’s being honest, he expected you to justify why you’ve been drinking, but your willingness to take accountability came completely out of left field.
That’s not to say Mike feels the apology was unnecessary. It’s more like, he wanted a justification for your behavior; he wanted to understand why you did what you did before getting truly upset with you, but he didn’t expect you to acknowledge how your crisis affected him. But you did.
It’s like, he went into a restaurant expecting his favorite meal, but instead he gets his favorite meal plus an ingredient that he didn’t know would make the entire meal better.
It makes him feel seen.
It makes him like you more.
After that, you seem more comfortable around Mike, and you don’t go out as often.
If you do, you’re home before midnight, and you’re sober.
If you’re not sober, you call, and let Mike know you’re staying at a friend’s for the night.
You act a bit differently too.
It’s kind of strange, because Mike thought you felt comfortable around him before that conversation, but apparently he underestimated how often you try to keep a professional facade around him and Abby.
But now, you allow him to see you in pajamas.
He didn’t even know you owned pajamas.
They’re cute and baggy; fluffy sweats that pool around your ankles, and a matching sweater.
You buy a shelf for Abby’s art supplies. You put it in the living room, in case she wants to draw while she watches TV.
Mike starts to wear sweats too.
Abby’s drawings start to fill up the empty space on the refrigerator
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litteralyjustawriter · 3 months
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Derek Danforth NSFW Bullet List / Headcanons (gender neutral)
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Has a jacobs ladder piercing but instead of every inch he has it pierced every 8th of an inch to make it appear longer.
Whimpers but will never admit it. Gets rougher when you tease him about it.
Sorry to all my people who need male validation but he would never praise you, even if he was held at gunpoint he would still degrade the hell out of you.
Has the sex drive of a teenage boy and has definitely been caught jacking off or watching 🌽 in the office
Definitely a "why would you need toys if you have me" type of guy but because of his sex drive, whenever you're down he is.
LOVES having sex (especially receiving head) in risky places. In the car, under his desk, bathroom at his mom's place, anywhere and everywhere it has been done.
Katoptronophilia, mirror sex. He loves being able to see every part of you and making you watch what he does to you.
Nipple piercings :3
"slut", "whore", "cock slut", "toy/doll", "naughty thing", "mine", ect.
REFUSES to sub but when he's desperate and/or close he begs like crazy.
Huge ownership kink, if anyone is staring at you at a party he'll pull you to the nearest empty room/bathroom and absolutely cover you in hickeys, maybe even have a few rounds with you to make sure you remember that no one could take care of you the way he does.
Pansexual and non-monogamous, doesn't care who he gets to dick down as long as it's someone.
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kazmyass · 6 months
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hi !! could you possibly do a oneshot or something where Mike comes home from work early one morning and he sees that the reader (could be GN or male if you happen to write male stuff) is still asleep on the couch, (they take Max’s place in being Abby’s babysitter but they DON’T work for the aunt) and he’s so tired that he ends up grabbing a blanket and cuddling up next to them? and then when they wake up they’re like “mike?? are you okay??” and he’s just a flustered mess? thank you so much! <3
Wakey Wakey
Pairings: Mike Schmidt x male!reader
Description: after a long night at work, mike just needs some comfort from abby’s babysitter, aka, his boyfriend
Warnings: little tiny sexual innuendo at the end if you squint, falling asleep together, fight scene kinda? mostly fluff tho
Words:  704
Prompt: cuddling
A/N: I LAURVED WRITING THIS MIKE IS MY LOVEEEEEEEEE send me more requests for him cus tbh, this was fun af
Mike had just had one of the worst nightmares in his life. So bad, in fact, that he left work early. It was the same nightmare he had been having for years, but instead of finding his little brother, Garett, gone a minute too late, he came face to face with the kidnapper. Only the kidnapper had a mask on- a yellow bunny mask with a purple bowtie at the bottom.
Having been caught off guard, Mike ended up on the ground, beaten and bruised, as he watched his younger brother be coaxed into the station-wagon, and driven away, never to be seen again.
As if the dream wasn’t enough, he had woken up feeling incredibly sore. Bruises littered his arms and torso, but nothing too serious. Mike was too tired to stop and question why he even had bruises in the first place. It was only a dream after all... right?
It was only 4:58 when Mike got to his house- a mere hour before he should have even left work in the first place. He fumbled with his keys, trying to find the right one to open the house. When had he acquired so many keys?
All the lights were off, except for the light above the stove, which provided just enough light for Mike to find his way to the sofa. He sat, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, when he heard a soft snore. He looked to his right to find y/n curled up under a fleece blanket. He smiled softly. How did he get such a handsome boyfriend? And one that happened to babysit as well?
Mike scooted closer to y/n, pulling him close to his body and laying down against the pillow behind him, so that he was holding y/n. After a while he let sleep overtake him.
When y/n woke up, he was definitely surprised to see Mike home early, much less on the couch with him rather than in his own bed. Y/n crawled over Mike quietly, tiptoeing to the kitchen and turning the stove light off, as the natural light began to fill the kitchen.
He pulled out the egg carton from the fridge, as well as a pack of bacon. If Mike was home early, y/n might as well surprise him with breakfast.
“Is that eggs and bacon I smell?” Abby loudly ran into the kitchen.
“Shhh, we don’t wanna wake your brother, do we?”
“Oh right,” She whispered. “Is that eggs and bacon I smell?” She said much quieter that time.
“Yeah, thought I’d surprise Mike,” Y/n said, laughing a little to himself.
“And why is that?” Y/n jumped a little when he heard Mike’s voice. He turned to see Mike still in his security outfit with messy hair and a crooked smile on his face.
“Well you certainly surprised me when I woke up,” Y/n said. Mike blushed.
“That wasn’t- I didn’t-”
“It’s okay Mike. I liked waking up like that.” Y/n said with a soft smile.
“Waking up like what?” Abby asked, looking between the two boys.
“In your brother’s arms,” Y/n said, making Mike blush again. Abby simply stuck her tongue out and faked throwing up.
“When I grow up, I’m never gonna be in love. It’s gross,” Abby said.
“You might change your mind hun,” Y/n said.
“No,” Abby stated, matter of factly, pulling a piece of paper out of who know where and began coloring with the crayons that were already spread out on the table from last nights drawing session.
Mike wandered closer to y/n, wrapping his arms around y/n and hugging him from behind. When y/n placed his hands over Mike’s, Mike hissed.
“Mike-” Y/n looked at Mike’s knuckles that were raw from the “dream” fight. “Are you okay love? What happened?”
“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” Mike murmured. Y/n got the hint that he didn’t want to talk about it but he kept it in his mind that he should ask again later.
“I liked waking up like that,” Y/n said.
“Yeah?” Mike asked, placing a kiss on y/n’s jaw.
“Yeah.”
“Well I liked falling asleep like that. Let’s do it in my bed next though. WAIT- I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT!”
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ch1llyic3y · 10 months
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Let's just get one thing straight. Cause bookstagram and booktok got me BENT. Move Aaron Warner. Cardan Greenbriar. Ravi Singh. Rhysand. Percy Jackson (Honestly they're tied... But it's not abt bae Percy rn.) Peeta Mellark is THE book boyfriend. That boy lived and breathed FOR Katniss Everdeen. He put her before himself EVERY SINGLE TIME. He was tortured for her. Even with altered memories he went to district 12. And planted primroses for her deceased sister. He volunteered for her even when he could've lived and been with his family. This boy was brainwashed and the first thing he asked was about Katniss. Who he 'hates'. He has loved her since he was 5 years old. FIVE YEARS OLD. Everyone could see it. Everyone but them could see how much they loved each other. The way they'd START a war for each other. They're the IT couple. He's the NO. 1 book boyfriend. And she's the NO.1 book girlfriend. IDC IDC IDC IDC.
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cherryredstars · 3 months
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Can you do the Mike bodyguard x introvertshy!reader (fem)
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Pairing: Mike Schmidt x fem!reader
Summary: It’s never a good idea to ask Abby for help.
Word Count: 1K (Not Edited)
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This is by far the easiest job he’s had. 
It sounds insane, but it really is. Even though he’s highly underqualified and it was a god given miracle he got the job, it’s by far the best job he had. More than generous pay, reasonable hours, and the girl he’s protecting is more than happy to have Abby for company. That’s not even the best part. The best part is that he gets all of that, simply for doing nothing. Literally nothing. 
Is he technically supposed to be protecting this rich dude’s daughter that he has never heard about until he started working as her bodyguard? Yes. And he does do that. You won’t believe how easy it is to protect someone. Especially when said person is more of an introvert than he is. Which means, he protects her while she’s inside her stupidly expensive, gated mansion that has a state-of-the-art security system. Yup, paid to do nothing except look outside her bedroom window every now and then.  
And the girl, she isn’t bad to be around. She doesn't look down on him or Abby for being working class. She strikes nice and polite conversation. Genuinely listens and nods along to what someone is saying. Smiles like the sun and has giggles that glitter. Insanely pretty, looks like a dream. Mike isn’t opposed to the fleeting touches she gives him either.
Really, he almost craves her attention. 
He wants to explore her soft, delicate mind. Wants to see what she thinks about and how her own mind keeps her company. He needs to know what words and what topics will keep her engaged. What does he have to say and ask and do for her to perk up in that specific way she does. What will make her voice ring out forever and ever and ever. 
Note for future reference: Abby is not the person you recruit for help.
Abby, surprisingly, doesn’t make up a fuss when Mike asks her. She only pauses from her drawing, gives him a bored look, and mutters out an ‘whatever’. She does give him a blank stare when he goes over the plan with her as they eat dinner, but that’s not anything new. On the drive to the mansion, Mike constantly annoys her about remembering what they went over. He only stops when Abby tells him a car is about to hit him when he was looking back at her and not on the road. She scared the crap out of him, and he grumbled and scolded her the rest of the ride for saying such a horrible joke.
The real disaster happens when they get there. It’s normal in the beginning. Mike scans his identification badge at the gate, parks in his designated spot in the employee lot, helps Abby carry her coloring supplies inside, and he meets you at the door. You have a smile on your face as you see Abby, instantly taking the things out of her hands as you strike up conversation. You act like whatever Abby is saying is the most important information in the word, nodding along with a serious expression and applying a perfectly timed comment. He trails behind the two of you, his heart swelling the tiniest bit. 
You lead them to the living room, taking a seat on the floor with Abby sitting besides you. You spread out all of Abby’s coloring supplies on the coffee table while Mike finds his usual position at the doorway of the room. He’s directly across from the girls, giving him a perfect view of them drawing and coloring. He’s fidgety the whole time. He can see the girls talking, but they speak in hushed whispers among themselves. He thinks it’s idle chit chat and he’s anxious for when Abby starts with the plan. 
He wishes she never started with the plan.
Abby looks up at him, their eyes connecting. Mike gives her  subtle nod, looking away quickly when you look up from your paper and follow Abby’s gaze. Abby turns back to her paper, and you follow soon after. As Abby colors in a rainbow on her paper, she speaks up. 
“I think my brother has a crush on you. He was asking me how he could get you to talk to him.”
He’s going to strangle her. 
Mike’s mouth drops open at Abby’s words. His cheeks feel like they’re melting from how hot they are. His eyes are saucers as he looks to his sister, his gaze shifting to you. You’ve straightened up, a bashful look on your face as your cheeks darken with a blush. Your gaze meets him, and the two of you look away quickly. It’s awkward after tha. The two of you sneak glances at each other every now and then, looking away quickly as your eyes meet. He might just quit. 
At the end of his shift you walk him and Abby to the front door as usual. Mike’s carrying all of Abby’s things, Abby already wobbly on her feet with a need to sleep. At the doorstep, Mike gives Abby his keys to unlock the car, ushering her to go inside and he’ll be there in a minute. Abby goes without a fuss, too tired to talk. As she gets inside, Mike turns to you, his ears burning pink. 
“Hey, listen. I’m sorry about what Abby said earlier. Really, it was in-”
He’s stopped short by you shaking your head, a small smile on your face. “It’s okay, Mike. Really.”
It eases his worry slightly and he nods and he goes to turn away. Halfway to the car, your voice calls his name again. He turns around questionably, seeing you still in the doorway. Your hands are clenching the side of the door tightly, and your cheeks flame. “I… I can’t wait to talk to you tomorrow.”
Mike is left a gaping mess as he watches you hurriedly closing the door. His face is tomato red as he robotically turns around and gets inside his car. He almost shits himself when Abby pops out from the backseat, her face appearing above the middle console. 
“Does this mean the plan worked?”
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animentality · 3 months
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Just finished watching the FNAF movie (hooray for early UK release!) and I unironically loved it. Some things I want to mention…
Spoilers under the cut!
MATTHEW LILLARD AS WILLIAM AFTON 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻
JOSH HUTCHINSON AS MIKE SCHMIDT 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻
Honestly me just losing my fucking shit whenever there was a reference to the lore/games?!?! Like I was SO excited it was unreal
THE TOREADOR MARCH?!? FOXY SINGING?!? BALLOON BOY?!?! VANESSA?!? THE FREDDY LAUGH?!? THE “IT’S ME” WRITTEN ON THE MIRROR?!?
Not gory at all tbh like there’s a couple of scenes involving blood but most of the kills cut away before showing anything (there WAS a scene where Freddy chomped someone’s torso in half but you only see her bottom half afterwards, like the bite happens in the shadows)
There were, in fact, five nights at Freddy’s (and one day) (yes I counted lol) and absolutely nothing of particular scariness happened on Nights 1 or 2, Night 3 was cute, Night 4 started off cute but got sad and then Night 5 was kind of terrifying, kind of funny, kind of fucking awesome and filled with lore
They definitely missed a trick by not mentioning the Bite of ‘87 (or ‘83? Idk) or Golden Freddy but I know there MIGHT be a sequel so… 👀
I spent the whole of the movie trying to figure out who the fifth child/animatronic was 💀 like obviously Freddy, Chica, Bonnie and Foxy… was the fifth one the fucking cupcake?!?!
The cupcake was kinda goofy but I loved it all the same
The animatronics went from villains to not villains to villains to not villains again like what a journey
Look most of my FNAF knowledge admittedly comes from watching Markiplier and JackSepticEye playthroughs but since when was Vanessa William Afton’s daughter?!? Also is Vanessa THE Vanny???
Going into soft play with the pre schoolers at work is NOT going to be the same after this film 💀
Literally all of the people in the cinema freaked out when Springtrap appeared oh my god
We have come SO FAR since the SFM fanmade videos of William Afton in the Springtrap suit getting springlocked and dying surrounded by the ghost children in the animatronics like holy shIT?!?!
“I always come back” - cue the 20 people at the 10:50am showing I was in absolutely losing their fucking shit
In the sequel (if there’s a sequel) I DEMAND more Matthew Lillard as William Afton/Springtrap like yeah he’s dead but FLASHBACKS!!!! Prequels?!? So much potential there. What I’m trying to say is that we deserved more of him, he was amazing but only there at the beginning and the very end, that’s my top complaint tbh
Not that scary to be honest but there’s some jump scares
I will say this, it definitely felt VERY campy at times, like there were moments involving murderous animatronics where we were all giggling in the cinema
Abby (Abi?) was VERY cute and sweet but also I wanted to shake her like you fucking idiot why are you going up to the scary ass animatronics?!? Stay in the office with your sleeping brother
The fact Mike still has custody of his sister after their aunt was presumably murdered in his home is not adding up but hey ho 😂
Is it the best movie ever made? No, but it was enjoyable for me so I call it a win
If anyone has any questions or wants to talk about it, feel free to hit me up, I won’t be able to reply until just over 4 hours time though as I’m about to head into nursery and do a shift so… yep!
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spookyhotmess · 11 months
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corvidae-lover · 1 month
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Realizing Josh Hutcherson is 5'5 really is going "if I can't reach this cupboard without standing on a chair it means he can't either" (I'm also 5'5 but still growing) and then snickering
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fryerdan · 6 months
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Saw the FNaF Movie, very fun! Have a drawing :D
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goodsiesposts · 9 days
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Hi im janitor hutchersons younger sister🤓
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pyro-chaos · 6 months
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Mike Schmidt x Reader
Pt: 3 Friday Nights
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Summary: Abby’s first sleepover gives you and Mike some alone time.
The friendship continues
Tropes: fluff, sultry thoughts but no explicit smut.
Word count: 3337
And they were roommates…
Pt. 3 of This Series
A\N: Hey!! So I’m a bit more insecure about this one than I am with my previous two parts. I still think it’s sweet, and I like how it turned out, but let me know if I should do a rewrite!!
“I mean truly, the stark change within Abby…”
The school counselor’s words fall on ears occupied with something else.
“….I mean I’ve never seen…”
Mike tried to pay attention - at the beginning - but eventually the words tangled together to create a meaning the counselor could’ve communicated with one or two sentences.
“… so quickly. Whatever you’re doing, it’s clearly…”
Plus, Mike has more important things on his mind.
“… good that she has someone like you.”
Mike barely catches the end of her…seemingly endless lecture.
He hears the compliment. It feels unwarranted but Mike politely grins anyway.
Mike has questions. He has so many questions.
The problem that the counselor is referring to… Abby healed it on her own, mostly. Her friends helped her - but crawling out of her shell - thats all her. Mike just made sure she didn’t die. Even then…
He still feels stabbing guilt; a lot of the time. For what he almost did.
“Sh - She gets nightmares, sometimes,” Mike does too, but this isn’t about him.
“is” he gulps down the lump in his throat, “- is there anything I can do?”
The counselor folds her hands together like she’s trying to explain something to a feral child. Mike recognizes the gesture. It’s not one of genuine kindness; it’s the kind of gesture someone enacts when dealing with a delicate situation.
“Does she talk to anyone? About the nightmares.”
Mike huffs, “she’s pretty tight lipped about it,” but he knows that she wants them to stop.
“No,” the counselor almost sounds amused, Mike tries not to let the tone offend him.
“I mean does she talk to anyone about it.”
Ah. He gets it now.
“You mean like a shrink?” He questions.
The counselor nods and gives him a look doused in sympathy. It makes Mike want to get up and leave.
“Can’t afford it.”
“Ah,” she says, before launching into another lecture about how to avoid dreams, and calm anxiety before bed.
Mike listens this time.
The day after the meeting, Mike goes about his day.
Everything goes how it’s supposed to go. He goes to work, coordinates with his project supervisor, and eats lunch.
Until he gets a call from Abby’s school.
When Mike’s coworker, Jordan, calls him out of the work room, he says it’s an emergency.
Mike’s heart fucking palpitates. He almost drops the damn drill.
He’s never struggled to take off his gloves, or unclip the bulky helmet, but he does now. His hands get clammy and hot. It gets hard to breathe.
Mike’s still has the safety goggles on when he gets to the phone.
“Hello? What’s wrong?”
Abby’s voice comes through the other end, “Can I have a sleepover with Selina?”
Mike exhales. He rips the safety goggles off and rubs the bridge of his nose.
He takes one more deep breath before answering, “Is that all you called to ask?”
Abby confirms before launching into an explanation, “Please, please. Katy is going, and so is Josie and Sofia and they’re making cookies and Silena has a trampoline.”
Mike’s tapping the phone, his fingers feel tingly and that urge to hold his breath comes back, “Look, I don’t think that’s a good -“
“- No, It’s fine. They have a trampoline Mike, please.”
She doesn’t get it.
That’s the hardest part. She doesn’t understand that she’s not safe at someone else’s house. Overnight? What if there’s a fire? or what if she can’t sleep?
Mike remembers the school counselor's words about Abby’s progress. He would’ve taken her opinion with a grain of salt, if he didn’t see it for himself.
Even according to Mike’s independent observation; Abby’s started to smile around other kids a lot more compared to before.
In fact, she’s planning fucking sleepovers with other kids.
Mike thinks about his mom.
What would their parents do?
“I want to talk to Selina’s parents first.”
So, Mike does end up talking to Selina’s parents.
He meets them in the parking lot after school.
They explain the whole ordeal. Their plans and the occasion that sparked the sleepover.
They seem normal. They remind Mike of coworkers his dad used to invite to 4th of July grills.
The mom - Janice - works at the hospital, and the dad - Sean - works at a bakery.
Sean and Janice give Mike their house address. So, he knows where to drop off Abby after she goes home to pick up clothes and a sleeping bag.
When Mike enters the car, he’s greeted with two sets of expectant gazes.
Mike’s eyes shift between the two of you, Abby’s grinning, but you just look sheepish.
Mike rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, “make sure to pack your toothbrush.”
Abby smiles on the way home.
You're in the living room when just Mike walks through the door.
You have pajamas on, and you’re lounging on a loveseat tilted towards the TV. A mug of wine rests on the coffee table. Along with some type of cheese and cracker.
Something smells good.
“There’s food on the stove, it should still be hot” you call, then eat a cracker.
Mike beelines a straight shot to the kitchen, “Thanks.”
You mhm through a mouthful.
Mike can’t wait to eat, but when he reaches for a plate he sees the specks of sawdust layering his clothes.
He clenches his jaw, and counts backwards from ten.
“Hey, uh, I’m gonna shower first, but if you leave the dishes I’ll do them later.”
Your eyes stay glued to the TV, “Okay, there’s also wine on the top of the fridge. If you want any.”
Mike showers and dresses. When he returns to the kitchen, the quietness hits him square in the face.
Abby’s not in the house, and it feels like he’s forgetting something important - Like his keys are missing, or he lost his wallet - It puts him on edge.
Despite his unease, something sweet and warm, like syrup, spreads through Mike when he serves himself a portion of dinner.
It’s mostly covered up by the gray-haired worry about Abby at someone else’s house, but Mike won’t deny the comfort of having a good meal, and wine, after working.
Mike doesn’t know how he did it when he lived alone with Abby. He had to cook, clean, and pay bills. All on his own.
Back before you, Mike would have to leave in thirty minutes for his second shift of the day.
Mike wonders if Abby enjoys the new schedule as much as he’s enjoying it.
He brings the food and the wine to the coffee table, and sits on the sofa adjacent to your loveseat.
Mike has no idea what the fuck you’re watching, but it seems…interesting.
He doesn’t care to complain, though. It’s not like he’s invested in the show.
A few beats of comfortable silence fly by before you speak, “How was work?”
Your question feels like an embrace. It’s the type of question that someone asks when they want to talk, but can’t think of anything else to say.
You want to talk to Mike, and it makes him feel some type of way.
Maybe it’s not that deep.
“Good - long - what’re we watching?”
“No idea. I think she,” you point to a character, “wants to do something that he-” you point to a different character, “doesn’t like. So, she’s going behind his back and stuff. But I’m just watching this because I like the show that comes on next, and I don’t wanna miss it.”
Mike hums through his food. He kind of wants to ask why you’re not going out. It’s Friday night.
Are you feeling alright? What’s different about this Friday from all the other Fridays?
Instead he does the dishes.
When he returns, he’s still not really paying attention to your show. Even though, every now and then you’ll add commentary. He just mhm’s through it.
Does Abby remember his number in case she wants to go early? What if she gets too cold in their house? What if she has a nightmare? Would she call him?
His fingers are pulling apart the threads at the arm of the couch, and his leg is bouncing.
He drinks more wine.
“- about it?”
Mike snaps out of his head, “uh,” he tries to blink himself awake, “- sorry, what?”
You shrug and gesture to his fingers pulling apart the couch, “you’re um,” you clear your throat, “you seem… off. Do you want to talk about it?”
He…didn’t even notice that he was fidgeting with the threads like that.
“Oh,” he chuckles, but the sound comes out sounding more awkward, and nervous than amused, “is it that obvious?”
“No, no not at all,” you make eye contact with him, and that creamy comfort returns to make a sugary home in Mike’s chest.
“Well…” you begin, “…Kinda, yeah.”
This time, the laugh you pull out of Mike sounds genuine. Even to him.
It’s not a huge laugh, more of a happy scoff really, but it makes him feel a little better nonetheless.
“It’s just…” Mike starts, and you direct your body to face him instead of the TV.
Even though your show is playing. You want to listen to Mike more than you want to watch your show.
He has to fight down a smile, “…this is the first time Abby’s had a sleepover.”
Your mouth makes an O-shape, and you nod like you’ve got it all figured out.
“Yeah, the first time is always the hardest.”
That makes Mike think. How would you know?
“My mom used to get so nervous when my brother started going to sleepovers,” you add.
Your understanding of his nervousness makes sense, given the backstory, but there’s a detail in that sentence about you, and it means something to him.
“You have siblings?”
You nod excitedly, “a brother and a sister.”
Mike literally has no idea how he’s never heard about this before, “how - how old are they?”
“My sister’s seventeen. She’s a junior in High school,” you’re talking with your hands as you talk about your siblings. You seem excited, It’s making Mike smile.
“You should see her play sports, she's the Volleyball team captain this year…”
For real, you’re talking about them like you’re proud, and the genuine joy in your tone makes Mike want to crawl up next to you.
“- and my brother’s heading into middle school but he’s such a sweet kid. He used to get so excited when we went to the park. He loves to climb trees.”
It sounds like you haven’t seen them in a while.
The stories connect a few dots for Mike, though. This is why you’re good with Abby.
You and Mike end up talking more, he blames the wine.
Apparently, he gets chatty when he feels that familiar alcohol-induced warmth in his stomach.
Eventually, he asks why you didn’t go out on a Friday night.
The answer is much simpler than he expects.
“My show finally came out with a new season, and the new episodes air on Fridays.”
Mike snickers. His amusement comes at the expense of himself. Of course it was something simple, he doesn’t know why he even bothered to speculate.
He doesn’t expect you to return the question. But you do.
“ - it’s your night off, Abby’s taken care of, and don’t you miss going out and doing your own thing?”
Well, to be honest, he never really had the time. For years, Mike spent nights occupied with…something he doesn’t need to do anymore.
He can’t tell you that, though.
So he says, “Nah, I never went out. Even before Abby.”
“Is it ‘cause you don’t like crowded spaces?”
Mike doesn’t think too hard about that, but he snickers because it feels like you pulled it out of a hat.
He snickered again. He’s doing that a lot around you.
It’s probably just the wine.
“No? Just never had the time.”
You nod, but then you get that wide-eyed excited look that you got when you asked Mike to move in with you,
“Wanna go out tonight?”
If anyone, ever, asked about why Mike agreed as quickly as he did, he’d blame the wine. He’d blame the wine until he went blue in the face and died of suffocation.
He doesn’t even admit to himself that the wine isn’t the reason he said yes.
After he agrees, you tell him about a place that you think he’d like.
You say that it’s, “like a botanical garden, but they put lights up, and serve food, at night.”
You tell him that it’s not crowded, like a bar or club, because technically it’s a fancy place, and that’s why you both need to change clothes before calling a cab.
So, Mike calls a cab. Then, he puts on a button-down shirt, and throws on a pair of his nice jeans.
Still, he feels slightly, very, underdressed compared to you.
You come out of your room wearing an elegant little black dress that hugs parts of you in a way that makes Mike blush and breathe heavy.
Your neck stays uncovered. He sees the skin where the hickies used to be, but this time there’s no hickies.
Mike can think of a way to change that.
His dick jumps, and he wishes he could do something about it.
You make him feel things that he doesn’t want to feel.
“You ready?” You ask, and Mike has to swallow and take a deep breath to keep himself in check.
He’s very ready. Just, not in the way you think.
“Uh, yeah. Are - are you?”
You smile and nod.
The cab drive goes well. Mike’s getting used to the tightness in his pants.
So, that place that you’d said he’d like, he does.
At first, it felt like he didn't belong. A lot of people dressed better than him, many have their hair in hairstyles, and he can’t pronounce more than half the food on the menu.
You can, though.
To be fair, the menu ended up as a non-problem; because after you pointed out the prices, Mike gave you a look, and you gave him the same look back.
You both scurried out of the seating area before an employee could take any orders.
Mike likes the botanical garden.
He likes how you talk in the botanical garden.
It costs to get in, but it’s gorgeous.
It's the twilight hour when you walk through the pathway together.
Sometimes your arms brush.
Every time it happens, Mike’s heart fills with something, but you don’t seem affected.
He glances at your fingers throughout the walk. He starts to note the little divots in your palms. How would they feel against his? Would you be mad? If Mike picked up your hand and kissed the palm?
You talk about the practical uses of plants that you see. Mike learns that dried-up yarrow leaves can help clot blood. He also learns that solar energy powers the lights shining on the rows of green life.
You talk about how cool it is, that the owners made this place one-hundred-percent sustainable, and he can’t help but agree.
Your smile infects him with feelings that flutter through his arteries, and you’re smiling a lot.
Eventually, conversation lulls, but it’s the nice kind of lull. It’s a quiet comfort, like warm sheets and fresh tea.
There’s a greenhouse exhibit towards the end of the pathway. A worker checks in your coat, then tells you where to pick it up at the end of the exhibit.
When he first steps inside, Mike nearly goes into shock over the change in temperature. It’s hot, and he has to roll up his sleeves immediately or risk complaining about it.
It doesn’t help.
The place smells good, though; like moist soil and moss.
The greenhouse has fairy lights hanging overhead, and multicolored flowers decorate the pathway.
It’s laid out like a maze, the illuminated path winds around little islands of floral beauty.
Mike likes the palm trees. Most of them have pretty colored lights wrapped around the trunk.
It’s nice, Mike won’t deny the otherworldliness of the beauty, but honestly, he wouldn’t enjoy it as much if you weren’t there.
You bring a certain excitement to the excursion that Mike doesn’t think he can feel on his own.
You ask him if he likes plants, and honestly, he’s never thought about it.
He shrugs says they’re nice, because they are, and they’re starting to remind him of you.
His shirt collar is drenched in sweat by the time you two get to the end of the greenhouse.
He’s self-conscious about the wetness at first, but then he sees your neck.
It makes him want to do other things that would make you sweat.
The garden isn’t that populated right now. He could do it, if you wanted it too.
Lift up your skirt, press his dick against the plush of your ass. He’d nuzzle his nose into the crook of neck, and breathe you in before dragging his tongue along your nape.
He’d grab a fistful of your tits from the front of your dress.
He would take off your panties, but he wouldn’t give them back. He’d keep them in his pocket like a treasured souvenir.
Would you like it? If Mike made you walk around with wetness staining your inner thighs?
Maybe you’d find it demeaning, to be forced to walk around like that, but maybe you wouldn’t.
Mike’s very glad that it’s nighttime, because it’s too dark for you to see the outline of his half-hard dick.
The pathway leads to an outdoor bar.
The counter rests under a gazebo-like structure. Vines curl around the pillars like the lights on the palm trees, and quiet music plays over the chatter of the customers.
The bartender greets you by name.
You introduce the bartender to Mike as Miranda, and it takes him a moment to realize that he’s seen her before.
Miranda comments on it before he does. Mike probably wouldn’t have anyway.
“Yeah, I’ve seen you before, you’re the roommate right?” Miranda asks, and Mike gives her a tight-lipped grin.
“Yeah, it’s nice to officially meet you,” he returns.
“Yeah you too,” she says, “Anyway, is there anything I can get you guys? Completely on the house.”
You get a little wide-eyed at that, “Hey no, it’s okay, we can -“
“- I still owe you for dinner last week, remember? It’s fine. Tequila sunrise?”
You ease into your barstool, a soft, yeah spilling from your lips.
Mike thinks it's cute.
However, Miranda’s attention moves to Mike, and his panic chases away the good feelings.
Mike’s never been to a bar like this before. He’s not sure what to order, he’s not sure how, “uh, what do you have?”
Miranda gestures to the bottles behind her, “I can make anything as long as we have the ingredients. What do you usually drink?”
He doesn’t.
“Do you have anything…” Mike’s cheeks are heating, he can feel it, it’s making him feel dumb, “…non-alcoholic?”
Miranda doesn’t judge his inability to order quickly. It helps.
“Yeah, I can do virgin drinks. What were you thinking?”
God, all these questions. He doesn’t like turning down free shit, but he’s starting to feel tempted to.
“What’s popular?”
“Piña Coladas and Strawberry Daiquiris are the most popular virgin drinks, but we also have fountain drinks if that sounds better.”
“Strawberry Daiquiris are good, they’re like slushies.” You interject.
Mike orders a Strawberry Daiquiri.
When Miranda leaves, Mike feels like he can breathe again.
Mike wonders, if you notice the nervousness behind the way he’s crossing his arms, because you smile, and tell him that he looks nice in a button-down.
Miranda returns with free drinks before he can think himself into a hernia.
Abby would like the Strawberry Daiquiri.
For the rest of the night, Miranda makes stops at yours and Mike’s corner of the bar.
Miranda’s presence made Mike uncomfortable at first, because he doesn’t know her, but your friend pulls him into conversations in ways that he doesn’t mind.
It helps that Mike likes how you look at him when Miranda asks him a question.
He likes how you’re paying attention to him, even when your friend is right in front of you.
Miranda comes out from behind the bar when you mention that it’s getting late.
She gives you a hug first, then she shakes Mike's hand.
Her touch makes him think of your palms.
When the two of you get home, it’s just a little past 10 p.m.
Mike wants to thank you, for showing him a place like that, and for spending your evening with him.
He didn’t have to spend the night cooped up, worrying himself into a frenzy, because you brought him out.
The gratitude gets stuck in his throat.
What does he say? Hey, thanks for spending a night around me! Let’s do it again sometime!
Well, sure, he could say that, but he would rather stay quiet.
He doesn’t want to come off too strong, he doesn’t want to give you a peek into the meat of him.
He’s surprised when you say something.
“Thank you for coming out. I had fun.”
The words come out a little awkwardly, like you’re unsure.
Mike’s eyes find yours, and the little smile in the corner of your lips makes him feel better - despite the quiet house.
He licks his lips and offers you a similar small grin, “Yeah, Me too.”
And he means it.
A/N: Although I feel conflicted about this chapter, I’m very thankful for the love you’ve given me on the previous two!
I hope you enjoyed!
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gurlbossw · 1 year
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i want him so.bad
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markerbirthday · 6 months
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just saw the fnaf movie
i have never autismed so hard in my LIFE
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