#the babysitters movie

[delicioushottubpeanut]

♡ babysitter

oneshot - inspired by that one edit

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.

[too-deviant]

strategic manoeuvre.

— WITH…ART DONALDSON!

contains...babysitter!reader, age gap, 18+ MDNI, art cheats w reader but it is lowkey implied that tashi planned the whole thing, car sex, semi-public sex, head (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, inspired by this post from @traumatrios

You had never been interested in tennis before Art. 

You weren’t interested in sports at all, really — you just wanted to buckle down and focus on your college work, earn some money with an easy part-time job. You didn’t have time to follow sports, or anything else. 

But then you got a call. You had been in the middle of a lecture when your phone buzzed against your notebook, a California number shining up at you and enticing you to pick up. Normally you would’ve let it go to voicemail, but you had recently gone around some of the fancier hotels in your city with flyers, asking for babysitting jobs and posting your number, so you excused yourself with a wave and took the call in the hallway. 

You didn’t know who Tashi Donaldson was when she introduced herself, but the hotel she’d asked you to come to later that night was fancy enough that you didn’t question it. You had done an extensive google search afterwards, of course, but simply raised an impressed brow at her repertoire. 

Then you met Art, her tennis player husband and the father of the lovely little girl you would be taking care of, and suddenly you were pretty interested in tennis. 

It started when Lily had a bad nightmare and you couldn’t get her down — well, it started when you met the guy, palm sweaty in his own as he introduced himself, but it didn’t really start until you had to put one of his old games on the TV for the girl to watch until she fell asleep at your side, tear tracks from her bad dream dry on her cheeks. 

You had been planning on carrying her back to her bed when she was down for the count, but you had been so fixated on Art’s movements; his determined look, his arms, his legs, that you ended up dropping out too. You woke up a few hours later with a blanket over your body and Art standing quietly at the kitchen island behind the sofa. 

“You looked peaceful. Didn't wanna wake you.” He’d said, sipping at his tea, and you knew you were done for. 

Now all of a sudden you had time to watch a tennis match in the morning, play one as background noise while you studied. You had started following his tennis journey right from the Junior Open in 2006 — you didn’t think you'd ever actually see him again, but you could fantasise about it whenever you remembered the smell of his cologne as he thanked you for taking care of Lily, promising a big tip would go straight into your account in the morning. 

(The money went in fifteen minutes after you’d left).

It came as a pleasant surprise when Tashi’s number popped up on your screen once more, a few months later. You had been in your kitchen, and took the call the moment you recognised the digits. 

“We’re a little ways out of town.” She’d said, “But Lily raved about you for days after last time, and we know you better than a stranger. If you can’t make it out here, don’t worry, but we still wanted to try our luck.”

We she’d said. As in her and Art. 

You cursed yourself for lusting after a married man in the uber to the hotel. 

From then on out, you became their primary babysitter. Since they travelled a lot, and Tashi’s mom was with them most of the time, you only really sat for them once every couple of months. The town you lived in was sunny and had a huge private sports centre for professional athletes — a fact you weren’t aware of until Art told you over a cup of tea — so they always came back. You were glad you could count on them coming back — it was like magic, the way your phone lit up with Tashi’s now saved contact whenever the late night bingeing of matches and interviews stopped fueling your infatuation. 

The guilt was almost enough to make you ignore it, say you were busy or just get a new number all together. But you never did. As much as you knew it was wrong, you always dropped what you were doing and drove to that cushy hotel where the receptionist knew your face and let you in with a smile. You travelled that same memorised route to the master suite, knocked on the door and made sure you were standing far enough away from the peep hole that you didn’t look weird and distorted when Art would look through before letting you in. 

It was always Art now. Tashi had greeted you a few times but lately it had always been him — a sick part of you thought she might’ve known about your crush on him, played with it for fun because she couldn’t play tennis anymore. But that was crazy, and you really needed to sort yourself out. 

You would greet him with a smile, push through the small talk, lean up against the kitchen island and watch his shirt stretch around the planes of his back as he made you coffee (On those unlucky days he would be wearing a shirt. Sometimes he would be just done with warm ups and physio and would answer the door half naked and covered in sweat. Those were the good days). Then Lily would come running at you from her room, hug you around your waist and pull you in to play; Art would laugh and grin at you, sliding the coffee cup in your direction and holding your eyes before heading to his room to get ready. 

You would be knee deep in headless barbies and chewed up polly pocket clothes when he and would return, dressed up and ready to go. He would lean down, kiss Lily on the forehead, and press his hand to your back in a silent goodbye. Then he would leave, and you would spend the whole day trying to pull yourself together. 

He was married. He was ten years older than you. He had a child, and was paying you to look after her. 

But he always made you coffee when you arrived — just how you liked it because he remembered. He always checked in on you, asked you how your life was while you nursed the mug that was warm from the beverage and his hands. He would tell Lily to behave for you because We like her, and we don’t want to scare her off. He would let his land linger on your back half a second longer every single time he left. 

But.

But Tashi was the one who would call you. She was the one who made you coffee the first time, told you it was the least they could do for you. She would walk out of her room with Art, smile at you and tell you how beautiful you look in that shirt. She would grin at you before leaving, waiting patiently by the door for her husband to take his hand off your back. 

You were evil. Truly. The guy was married. 

But as evil as you were, you always made sure there was an old game of his playing on the TV when they would return — because then Art would prompt you to stay and listen to him talk about it. And you would have an excuse to lean up against that island and watch him make tea while Tashi excused herself to bed. Hours would pass before he was checking his watch and hissing out an apology for keeping you so late, and then letting you leave. 

The first couple of times he’d simply make sure you got in your uber safely. Then he started calling cars himself, the same ones that would drive him and his family to and from matches, press events. The same sort of service celebrites used, not their babysitters. You didn’t mind — it was a thrill, listening to him ask the person behind the wheel to make sure you got back safely.

(The bar was under the court at this point, but at least you were aware of that).

But tonight was different. In more ways than one. 

In the beginning, all was the same. You were left sitting on the plush carpet of Lily’s room surrounded by lego pieces, a burning in your gut and guilt in your heart. You played doctor, you made dinner, ordered room service after her relentless begging, put on a movie, carried her sleeping form to bed, came back and watched Art play tennis until he returned. 

You had started to run out of games to watch, ones you hadn’t already seen, so settled for an old game from 2006. He was playing against his old partner, Patrick something, and you wondered where the lesser known second half of Fire and Ice had disappeared to after that night. 

Then Art came back, Tashi right behind him, and you smiled at them both over the back of the sofa. Tashi watched the game, something unfamiliar glinting in her irises, before blinking back at Art, “I’m going to bed.”

He responded a little slower, kissing her goodnight and looking back at you, “Tea? This game was one of my most memorable.”

“Even though you lost?” You teased, leaning against the marble. 

He paused, looking back at you. He blinked, “Yeah.”

You drank your tea. You pretended like you weren’t full of shame for standing that inch closer to him. You let him talk until he had nothing left to talk about, and watched him check his watch. You waited for him to pick up the phone and call the car — only he paused by the phone, hand floating just before it, and retracted his steps to the kitchen, “I’m gonna drive you back, if it’s not too much trouble. Saves waking up my driver.”

“Oh.” Your fingers twitched, and you told them to stop. “Sure, of course.” 

Art’s car wasn’t what you had expected. Thinking back on it, he didn’t seem like the sports car type, but his status and riches led you to assume you were about to get into one of the two seats in his Bugatti — you didn’t. The black jeep was expensive enough for someone like him, but close enough to home that you didn’t feel like an outsider climbing into the passenger seat.  

The drive wasn’t all that far — twenty minutes both ways, so Art would’ve been back before Tashi fell asleep if he hadn't pulled into a parking lot five minutes out. 

Your lips parted, eyes following his hands as they slid slowly off the wheel and into his thighs. His chest rose with a deep breath and his jaw constricted when he swallowed. Then he was looking at you, eyes piercing. 

“Lily likes you.”

You were unsure, feet shifting beneath you, the sound encasing the silence of the space and forcing you to stop and blink, “I’m glad. I like her.” 

“Tashi likes you.” 

You weren’t too positive that she would like you if she could feel how you were feeling now — that all too familiar heartbeat pulsing between your legs with every one of Art’s breaths. 

“I like you.” He finished, tilting his head until his temple rested softly on the headrest of his seat. His smile was almost taunting when he undid his seatbelt, “Which is your favourite?”

“What?”

“The games.” He clarified, knowing his question was too broad and that you would have to ask, “The ones you watch every time you’re over. The ones I assume you watch even when you aren’t sitting for us. My games. Which is your favourite?” 

“Oh. Um —“ Slightly distracted by the way he shed his jacket, dumping it in the backseat. He’d lent all the way forward to take it off and his eyes didn’t leave yours once. “I don’t know.” 

“The one you were watching tonight.” He asked then, “What’d you think of it? Honestly.” 

“Honestly?” You swallowed, mortified that you were even entertaining this, “You looked a little distracted.” 

He huffed a laugh, finally looking away and letting you breathe. It didn’t last long, because he was then getting out of the car and rounding the front of it. 

The breeze was cool when it hit you, Art blocking most of it from where he stood in the gap. His hand was still on the handle, but you were busy unbuckling your own seatbelt — the message had been received, you had crossed a line and he was kicking you out of his car. 

But when you turned, legs swinging carefully into the cold, his hand on your knee stopped you from really getting out. Your eyes snapped up to his, and you realised you had been caged — with one hand on the door and one hand on you, Art Donaldson had you right where you had been dreaming of him having you. It felt surreal. 

“My opponent. In the game from tonight.” He breathed, glancing around casually like you were having one of your simple conversations over tea. “He slept with my wife.”

Out of all the things… 

“What?” Your eyes darted between his, but the rest of your body otherwise remained still. Even when his hand on your knee travelled upwards. 

“He’d slept with her before. In college. We weren’t together then.” He was now watching his hand move, like he wasn’t the one moving it, “But then he slept with her again, in Atlanta. After I’d already married her.”

“Wow.” You breathed, mainly because it was the easiest word you could slide out of your mouth whilst holding your breath. His fingers reached your thigh, begged to dip between them. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He was quick to respond. Your legs parted on instinct, and at this point you had surrendered to being an awful person — although maybe you’d fallen asleep on the couch and this was all a dream. You didn’t think you’d be able to face Art if it was. You couldn’t even face him now. 

He took the newfound space for granted, stepping between your legs and holding them open with his body. His hand on the door followed him, taking its new place on your other leg. He rubbed up and down your thighs, but you couldn’t look away from his face. 

“I don’t want you watching him play.” He spoke lowly, tracing his fingertips around your waistband, “I’ve seen enough of his games.”

“Okay.” You didn’t hesitate to let out, swallowing the hungered saliva that had built up in your mouth. 

He unbuttoned your jeans, pulled the zipper down — painstakingly slow, but it allowed you time to brace your hands on the seat and the dashboard so you could raise your hips and let him slide them off you. 

You were stuck in your head, but Art didn’t seem to notice since he was too busy folding your jeans and hanging them over the open car door. You dared question it through a heavy breath but he just moved on to your panties, throwing them precariously on the dashboard and exposing your glittering cunt to his bright eyes. 

“We shouldn’t —“ It was a half-assed attempt at reconciling with your guilt, but the fact that you were half naked and spread eagle made it lose its meaning. 

Art shushed you, kneeling down so he was looking at your pussy, “We can, and we will.” Then he glanced back at you, brow arched, “Unless you don’t want to.”

Any sense of rationale had fucked off when he put his hand on your leg, so you swallowed and said, “I want to.”

He wasted no time, licking a thick stripe from your asshole to your clit. You knocked your head back with a gasped moan, bucking into him and hissing when the gear stick poked you in the back when you led back too far. 

You let out a shaky breath as he lapped you up, tongue dipping inside of you before travelling up to that sweet spot and sucking at it gently. You gasped and moaned, hands scrambling between holding yourself up and holding him down. His own were resting on your thighs — his calm and collected demeanour was a drastic contradiction from your own. 

His head nodded calmly between your legs, relaxed in its position — yours, shaky and tense all at once, neck bracing whenever you fell back. His hands tapped soft melodies on your skin whereas yours tightened around whatever was in their old, whether that be the leather of the seats or the blonde of Art’s hair. 

When he finally came up for air, his chin was coated in your slick, and he licked his lips clean before straightening up above you. You watched, paralysed, while he unbuckled his belt, threw it over the door with your jeans, and sent you a look under his lashes that you’d only seen him wear during his tennis matches. 

You had been keeping quiet earlier, but when he bottomed out inside you and started to piston, your mind went wild. Choruses of Oh my God and Fuck!, shouts of Art’s name and whimpers under your breath — it all came tumbling out and you couldn’t even try and stop it. 

Not that you wanted to; your vocality seemed to make him go faster, harder. It made him vocal, no longer calm and relaxed as he had been when eating you out, but loud and gruff. Grunts and moans you had dreamt about hearing outside of a television screen, now being huffed into the air you shared. 

You came with a whine and Art followed not long after, and you settled there for a moment — legs spread in his passenger seat with him standing between them — until you could muster up the strength to push yourself up. 

Five minutes later and you were both dressed, Art’s black jeep parked outside of your apartment building. You hadn’t exchanged any more words, but when you turned to slam the door once you had jumped out, you found his eyes on yours. 

“I have a game this weekend. Two hours out. Tashi wanted you to come. A gift, for all you’ve done for us.” 

(You went to the game. Art won. Tashi grinned like she’d made it happen and then offered to buy you a drink).

divider by @cafekitsune !!

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 168

So. Apparently halfas are like phoenixes or something, which Danny would’ve really liked to know. 

See, usually with ghosts if they’re forced to retreat to their cores they reform as was, but apparently, since they’re still partially living, schrodinger's people and all that, halfas have to regrow their body from scratch. At least that’s what he’s understanding from Frostbite. 

But how come he has to deal with it? It’s Dan’s fault for trying to pull such a stunt! Oh, it’s either him or Vlad? Well fuck, he might have calmed down and is going to therapy in both the living realm and the Zone, but he’s waaay not equipped to raise a child except for like, monetarily wise. 

Well dammit, how long will this core incubation thing last, he has his new job in… let him check which offer he accepted again… He has his new job in Coast City that he needs to finish packing for and then all the rest of the stuff to do. 

What do you mean it’ll take months?! He doesn’t have months?! Urgh, fine. At least being a mortician isn’t that exciting, nor dangerous. Just hand him Dan’s core and he’ll figure things out for the living side of things. He’s sure Tucker and Sam wouldn’t be against helping, if only to try and claim favorite aunt or uncle spots. 

[zeroreasonstocare]

Choso loves inviting you over even when he has the day off, always claiming Yuji wants to see you. He loves watching you sit on the floor with his little brother and play games with him while he sits on the couch. He especially loves movie nights, where he invites you to watch whatever Disney movie Yuji had picked out (usually The Lion King or The Emperor’s New Groove; you both have the movies memorized by now). Yuji on your lap, already asleep halfway through the movie, you really close next to Choso and eyes all droopy and sleepy, his arm around your shoulder, everything about movie nights is just so perfect to him.

On the other hand, he hates when you start to babysit Megumi. Not that his little brother’s best friend is the issue, not at all! It’s Megumi’s caretaker that’s the problem. He doesn’t like how flirty Gojo gets with you, and how you don’t know how to react. He doesn’t like how you let the man stay (a little too long for his liking) to chat with him about Megumi, or how he insists to pay you even when you say it’s not a big deal. He especially doesn’t like how smiley you become afterwards, but you (unknowingly) make it up to him when you look at him and ask when the next movie night is with your bright, sweet smile. If he could, he’d make every night movie night.

Masterlist

[hiding-under-the-willow]

Late night phone calls on long distance assignments

[whispering-ways]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾★ falling asleep ★☾⋆⁺₊⋆

✶ summary: you're mike's babysitter and you spend night after night taking care of abby. tonight you're exhausted and mike's the one taking care of you.

✶ pairing: mike schmidt x reader

✶ tags: no warnings, just fluff :)

✶ notes: i haven't finished the fnaf movie, but i've been a fan of the series for such a long time and i absolutely love it so far!! here's a short little fic that i've been thinking about for a couple days; i just really like the babysitter reader headcanon and had to write something with that <3

You gaze at the clock, which read 3:26 a.m. You sighed in disappointment. Although only a few minutes had passed by, it seemed like it’d be forever till Mike came home. You’d spent all night taking care of Abby and as lovely as she was, you were exhausted.

The whole night had been spent cooking and playing and looking after her and by the time she fell asleep, you could barely stay awake yourself. You couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer. Before you knew it, you felt your eyes slowly close and you fell fast asleep on the couch. 

After some time has passed, you hear the door open, though you felt too tired to care in the moment. You are a light sleeper, but in your state, you could barely decipher Mike's softly spoken words as he came in. You sense his presence moving about the kitchen and you guessed he was just fixing himself a meal. You sink into the sofa, exhausted, lying down on the couch to catch some more sleep. What felt like a couple of moments later, you felt arms around you.

At first, you assumed it was Abby, trying to wake you up for a glass of water. However, when you sense yourself being lifted into the air, you quickly realized it had to have been Mike trying to get you off the couch. It confused you, but it was far too early in the morning for you to be able to care. You drift off once again, too fatigued to comprehend much more.

You wake up in the middle of the night to find yourself on a mattress and not the couch cushions you remember seeing. You look around, taken aback to discover Mike by your side, fast asleep and limbs splayed out. Taking in your environment, you notice a few dirty shirts, a couple of books about dreams and a Nebraska poster up above you.

You deduced that this was Mike’s room, but you had no clue what you were doing here with him, in his bed of all places. That’s when you put two and two together: Mike must’ve carried you here after seeing you asleep on the couch

You laid back on the bed and looked towards him.  You had to admit, he looked pretty cute. He looked so peaceful right now; it seemed like he didn’t have a care in the world, a stark difference from his usual furrowed brows and dark circles. And for someone who didn’t have time to go to the gym, his arms were pretty muscular. You’d always thought he was attractive, but tonight definitely painted him in a whole new light.

You didn’t know what compelled you to do it, but you scooched forward so that your head was just a few inches from his chest. Although he’d been in a small sweaty office for most of the night, he honestly smelled pretty good; he smelled like pine and rain. His presence lulled you to sleep, and you soon fell back asleep.

You felt a subtle tug across your body, and to your surprise, it was his arm embracing you, pulling you towards his chest. You couldn’t complain though; it definitely felt nice. You closed your eyes again, a soft smile stretching across your face. You didn’t know where this would go when you both woke up, but for now, you were too blissful to care.

[fanofspooky]

Scream Queen - Samara Weaving

[forecast0ctopus]

do u think they ever explored each others bodies

[ethory]

returning to this blog very briefly to say: same group dynamic

[lily-s-world]

I am of the idea that all vampire characters are queer until proven otherwise.

[burst-of-iridescent]

what's your opinion on whether or not canon zutara could have made sense to happen by the finale?? i can't decide if i would have preferred them getting together or just hints at it and then it's revealed in tlok that they got married (and ig the comics would include the story of them getting together then)

my stance has always been that the show should have ended with no canonical romantic relationships, or a hint of future zutara at best. we didn't need anything more than a quick, intimate scene where zuko and katara discuss their futures and promise to keep in touch, with maybe a lingering glance or two to foreshadow romantic feelings. no kiss or grand declarations necessary.

that being said, if a romantic relationship had to happen, zutara was both built up more and made more sense narratively than kat.aang and mai.ko. i wouldn't have liked a zutara kiss in the finale for many of the same reasons i didn't like the kat.aang one, but it would've at least been thematically fitting and consistent with the characterizations of everyone involved - unlike zuko ending up with someone who never underwent any of the growth he did, and katara entering a lifelong romantic relationship without even so much as a word to give us insight into her sudden change of heart.

the only way to really do justice to zutara would've been with book 4, allowing plenty of time for a proper slowburn friends-to-lovers arc, but the reason so many people ship them today is because their relationship at the end of the show is the perfect jumping-off point for a romance. canon didn't actually have to give us anything more - the seeds were all planted already, and the imagination of the fandom would've done the rest.

[comicbookddr]

#MBAVChallenge → Week 8/8 Favorite Seer Moment

Die Pod! is such a cool episode! Love the colorful horror visuals >:)

[slothzone]

[Gif Description: 6 gifs featuring Ethan Morgan and Benny Weir from My Babysitter's a Vampire. In Gif 1, an annoyed Ethan grabs Benny by the wrist and says, "Come on." In Gif 2, Benny grabs onto Ethan in a panic while Ethan slams his bedroom door. Gif 3 features Benny and Ethan hiding under a pool table. In Gif 4, the two cuddle while asleep. In Gif 5, both smile as they dance haphazardly. In Gif 6, Benny is shocked as he says "No way!" while Ethan turns to face him in surprise. End description.]

MBAV Challenge (1/8)

Favorite Ship: Bethan (Benny Weir/Ethan Morgan)

[whispering-ways]

Hear me out. Softdom!Mike (fnaf) takes you to work with him and wants you to cockwarm him while he looks over the cams

˖⁺‧₊˚♡ checking the cameras ♡ ˚₊‧⁺

◉ summary: mike takes you to work, but you become incredibly bored incredibly quick. luckily, Mike has a solution for that.

◉ pairings: mike schmidt x reader

◉ tags: cockwarming, nicknames like love and baby

◉ notes: anon I literally adore you for this, i know in my bone marrow that Mike is a soft Dom!!! hope you like this short fic!

You were always a fan of true crime since you were little. So when your boyfriend, Mike, offered for you to come with him during a shift, you jumped at the opportunity. I mean the place was just riddled with mystery; I mean missing children at an entertainment place? You knew there had to be some sort of clue to what had happened so many years ago and you were going to get to the bottom of it.

You were expecting a fun night of snooping around, but Mike had said that was absolutely not allowed. It was understandable; he was working hard at this gig and he couldn't have anything fuck it up for him. 

Nevertheless, it actively killed any excitement the pizzeria once had. It didn't take long for you to become absolutely mind-numbing bored. You'd practically done everything you could in Mike's office. Flip through manuals, make paper swans out of old napkins, watch the training VHS tapes, there was nothing more you could do within that office.

"Well, almost nothing," you thought, looking over to Mike. You had to admit, he looked pretty good in a uniform and it's not like you had anything better to do. You walked over to his chair and climbed in his lap, thighs trapping him down to his seat. 

His focus shifted from the cameras to you, moving his hands to hold you up from the small of your back. "What's up love?" he asks with a soft but tired smile.

"Babe~!" you said dragging out each syllable. "I'm so bored...can I please just ride you?" you whine.

Mike's face flushes red, but it slowly leaves as he lets out a tired sigh. "As much as I'd love that, and truly I would, I'm too fucking tired for that and plus I've gotta watch these cameras baby."

You didn't want to push him, so you nod your head, dissapointment written all over your face. You lay your head in the crook of his neck; if you couldn't have his dick inside you, you were at least gonna cuddle him. 

Mike hated to see you upset like this. How could he concentrate on work when his love was in his arms feeling so sad? He patted your back, making you sit back up. "Why don't you just cockwarm me for a bit love? Itd be nice to have you around me while I look at the cameras."

You nodded enthusiastically, happy at the compromise. You quickly reached to pull your shorts off, leaving you in your panties as you ground down on his crotch. Mike put his hands on your hips, pulling you up just enough for him to unzip and push his pants down just enough for you to have access to him. He placed you back in his lap gently and you conrinued to grind down on him, feeling his erection poke through his boxers.

It didn't take long for you to pull down your panties and line yourself up with Mike, impatient to have him inside you. You slowly slipped the tip in, hissing at the stretch. 

"Fuck baby, you're so tight~" Mike groaned out. You loved how raspy his voice would get every time you both messed around. You slipped all of him inside you, finally bringing your hips down to his. His dick filled you up in all the right places; although it was average in size, it made up in length with thickness. 

Instinctively, you started to raise your hips to ride him, before feeling Mike's hands on your side again, pulling you back down roughly. "Remember you're just cockwarming. Don't disobey okay? If you're good for me, maybe we can mess around later after my shift."

"Ugh~ fine," you say reluctantly, sinking back into his  chest.

He chuckles at how much you wanted him. "Good girl," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

Something about being so close to Mike managed to make you sleepy and although you did your best to prevent it, you felt your eyes close.

You woke up to Mike tapping your back again to let you know it was time to go back home. You look up at him groggily before noticing you'd been cockwarming him all shift. Mike wordlessly helped put your clothes back on and led you back to his car, letting you sleep in the back seat as he drove him.

After checking in on Abby and sending the babysitter away, he brought you to his bedroom, gently laying you down on his bed. You instinctively pull the blanket around you, only to have it ripped away a few seconds later, the cold air now jolting you awake. 

You look up to see Mike above you, blanket in hand and a smile stretched across his face. "Baby you can't go to sleep just yet. I have to reward you for being so good don't I?" he said in a low voice.

[fanofspooky]

Pink - Lust, Naïve, Betrayal

[loveroffictionalmen]

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!”