HELP

Fell to my knees in a target when I saw Josh won’t have his curls in FNaF 2 💔

reading my old Billy posts made me giggle so hard

i hope you guys know that i take screenshots of the posts that i giggle super hard at

can i sleep with you instead 😕👎

we should fuck doggy style so much i need to go to the vet

Sorry. Not putting my dick in anything that has fleas. Hope your vet visit goes well.

HELP FR

The horse comment took me OUT

My favorite quote:

“Alpha by nature, leader by choice.”

Taking off my pants AS I type this

Happy Accident

a little NSFW Mike Schmidt imagine :3

MDNI 18+

This was just going to be a blurb, but I'm losing my mind over the thought of a touch starved, depraved, horny, & slightly perverted Mike Schmidt... so enjoy 2.4k words of filth <3

(gender neutral! reader ❤️)

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• You'd been babysitting Abby for a while, but when Mike got that new night shift job... well, you weren't sure it was going to mesh with your schedule. Still, he needed you. And how could you say no to those big brown eyes?

• So, you started spending your weeknights at the Schmidt house. Mike would get home right as it was time for you to leave for school/work, so you had to get ready at his house, too.

• That meant bringing a change of clothes, usually thrown carelessly into an old blue duffle you used as an overnight bag.

• Coincidentally, Mike's work bag was strikingly similar to your own. If it wasn't just a tad bit dirtier, well... it might be easy to get them mixed up.

• Or... maybe the slight physical differences don't matter when you're both running on hopes, prayers, and caffeine. Hey, it's not easy adjusting to a new schedule. Especially one that requires Mike to leave when he should be going to bed.

• It only took a few days for him to slip up. You were running late that night, and while he couldn't blame you (you get what you pay for, and he hadn't paid you at all) he also didn't have time to stop and chat like normal.

• Instead, he hiked (what he thought was) his bag up on his shoulder, gave you a curt goodbye, and left for another shift at Freddy's.

• At first, everything was normal. He did a quick lap around the building, tried to ignore the creepy shuffling noises coming from shadowy corners, and checked the monitors once or twice before settling down into his chair for the night.

• Mike reached into his bag for his prescription, medicine to help him sleep. Or... perhaps a snack. Maybe even a hoodie he could bunch up on the desk and use as a pillow. Something like that. What his hand actually came back up with made his mind go blank, and he immediately forgot what he'd wanted in the first place.

• In his hand, he held... underwear. And not his own. Definitely not his own. Mike froze, heart pounding as he tried to make sense of what he was holding.

• You. You'd starting bringing a change of clothes for babysitting now, hadn't you? In a... a bag that looked nearly identical to his own. Oh. Oh no.

• Mike dropped the article of clothing, face flushing a deep crimson. Then, feeling guilty at leaving your clothing on the grungy pizzeria floor, he quickly tossed it back in the duffle bag and zipped it up.

• He kicked the whole thing under the desk, trying to hide the evidence further. Who from? He had no idea. Mike felt extra grateful today to be in the one room in the whole building without a security cam.

• Yeah. That's right. No one had to know about this. That he'd... well, it was an accident anyway. How could he have known it wasn't his bag?

• Taking a deep breath, he started to come up with a plan. He'd say he realized it wasn't his bag, but only after getting to work. Once he'd noticed it was yours, he left it in the car and didn't touch it. There. That would work.

• Relieved, Mike lay his head down on the desk to try and get some sleep.

• Unfortunately, sleep never came. He still felt bad about taking your bag, even if it was an accident. What would you wear to work? You always left right as he came home, even if he brought your bag back after his shift you'd still end up leaving late.

• It also didn't help that Mike didn't have his sleeping pills. Or his cassette tape with "sounds of Nebraska" recorded on it. All he had was a stupid Nebraska poster, and a bag that wasn't his. Mike tried staring at the poster, but without the accompanying music and medicine, it did nothing but annoy him.

• Stupid trees. Stupid Nebraska. Stupid job. Stupid Mike. How could he make such a dumb mistake? Surely you'd be angry with him. He hadn't paid you in weeks, and then he goes and makes things even harder for you?

• With his stomach in knots and his mind and heart still racing, Mike resigned himself to not sleeping tonight. Instead, he pushed himself up from the desk and started to pace around the abandoned pizzeria.

• Part of him just needed to relieve some nervous energy, and the other part needed a distraction. From the guilt he felt, yes, but also from that goddamn bag of yours.

• Well, not the bag so much as your clothes. The... intimate ones. Mike slapped his palm to his forehead, trying to physically force out the disgraceful thoughts plaguing his mind. You weren't interested in him like that. This was so fucked up. He was so fucked up.

• A few more slaps to his forehead later, Mike halted in his pacing around the dining room. It had suddenly occurred to him that if anyone did happen to be watching, he'd look pretty silly smacking himself and muttering under his breath like he was.

• Mike turned and eyed the nearest security cam with suspicion, until a soft scraping noise drew his attention on stage. Had Bonnie always been looking this direction?

• Feeling the same level of nervousness and guilt, now accompanied by fear and paranoia, Mike retreated back to the safety of his office. There, he faced the same problems as before, a spike of excitement running through him as his foot brushed your bag under the desk. Maybe he'd take a quick peek at your things?

• No. He couldn't. He shouldn't. It wouldn't be right.

• Still... what else could he do tonight? Mike glanced at the digital clock on the edge of his desk, the flashing red numbers seeming to taunt him as he realized he still had five more hours left in his shift.

• Fuck. With a grunt, he slammed his head down on the desk and covered it with his arms. Just because he couldn't sleep through work tonight didn't mean he had to do his job. No, Mike had decided the very first night that he wasn't paid enough for this bullshit. So he simply worked as little as possible.

• He wasn't going to watch the monitors. And he certainty wasn't going to think about you. Nope. He was simply going to sit here and do nothing. Think about nothing.

Think about nothing.

Think about nothing.

Think about nothing.

• His strategy seemed to work for all of two minutes, repeating the same phrase in his head over and over until he couldn't stand it any longer. Images of you kept popping into his mind. Your smile, your eyes, and that sweet expression of pure warmth you gave him whenever he came home from work. Like you were genuinely happy to see him.

• Nobody else had ever treated him as well as you did. That's why he had to keep these feelings buried, stomp the embers into ash and blow those ashes into the wind. He couldn't afford to lose you.

• Still, Mike couldn't help but wonder. What if the feeling was mutual? Something in his chest stirred, and suddenly all he could imagine was seeing that warm smile of yours underneath him in bed. Would you still be able to run that cute mouth if he pinned you down to the mattress, legs thrown over his shoulders? Or would you find a way to tease him, like usual?

• Shit. Was it getting hot in here? Mike sat up to remove his jacket, then stupidly started for the duffel back to put it away. Right. Not his.

• Mike closed his eyes and suddenly, the piece of clothing in his hand wasn't his at all, but yours. Your underwear. Mike was considering removing his jeans too, as they were rapidly becoming too tight.

• Breathe, Schmidt. Mike took a few deep breaths, but nothing was helping. His blood grew hotter, his pants tighter, and his mind more muddled.

• This was usually the point where Mike would pop on his headphones, listen to the familiar sounds of his tape recorder, stare at a poster, and think "Nebraska" thoughts.

• Unfortunately, without his equipment... this wasn't going to work. He couldn't make it through another ten minutes without some kind of relief, much less an entire shift. Mike dropped the jacket and his hands went to his belt, undoing his pants and immediately dropping those to the floor as well.

• Yeah... maybe a little "stress relief" was all he needed. A distraction. Something to take his mind off you.

• Mike couldn't help but let out a chuckle at that thought. Take his mind off you? As he was palming his hardening cock through his boxers? As if.

• If anything, this would only make him crave you more. But, as he freed himself from the (slightly sticky...) confines of his underwear, he decided that would be a problem for future Mike. Currently, he just wanted to cum. Preferably in you, but all over himself while thinking about you would have to do for now.

• He tried to start slow, he really did. But in a matter of minutes, he was fucking fervently into his hand, hips bucking up off the chair slightly. He kicked off one shoe and wiggled a foot free of his discarded jeans, spreading his legs for stability as he sank back into the seat.

• Precum dribbled down his cock, coating his length and providing some much needed slick. Mike held his breath without realizing it, growing closer to the edge but still not quite there. Damnit.

• After what felt like an eternity of effort, Mike pulled his hand away with a rather pathetic whine. Panting, he scowled down at his still-twitching cock. This was exactly why he didn't often... well, take matters into his own hands.

• It wasn't enough. It wouldn't ever be enough. Not without your warm body wrapped around his. Hand, mouth, anything. Mike would take absolutely anything you were be willing to give. Especially in his current state.

• But he wasn't going to get that, was he? Not now, and probably not ever, if he was honest with himself.

• Mike's heart and cock ached in tandem, frustration bubbling to the surface and drowning out all other thoughts. How could he have been so stupid? Now he'd have to sit here half-naked and even more worked up then when he'd started. Mike bit his lip at the realization that he'd just checked himself into the next circle of hell.

• No, no. He could finish the job. He had to. There was no way he could endure this all shift. Even if he managed, what then? Go home to you and try to muster up an apology while on the verge of creaming his pants? Absolutely not.

• Mike worked his cock again, faster this time. His eyes scanned the room, subconsciously searching for something, anything to help. He was aching. The pressure built and built inside him, his stomach muscles clenching and unclenching in soft ripples as he threatened to spill. It didn't come. He didn't come.

• Finally, his gaze landed on something that made him shudder in excitement. Thinking with his dick and not his brain, he reached for the duffle back under the desk. He just needed a little something to help fuel his imagination. A nudge, that was all. Just a minute. He could return it back to it's spot in your bag after, and you'd never even have to know.

• Shaking, he brought your underwear to his nose with his free hand. The other was gripped tightly around the base of his cock, his mind and senses too overwhelmed by frenzied lust to do anything more than inhale deeply.

• Fuuuuck. It smelled like you. Well, that much was obvious, but never in his wildest wet dreams had he expected you to smell so completely delicious. His mouth watered almost as much as his poor weeping cock as he gave it a few languid strokes.

• In this moment, he wanted nothing more than to put his face between your legs and feast. Lick and suck and fuck you with his tongue, swallowing every drop of your cum until you had nothing more to give.

• His tongue peeked out to lick at the cotton-y fabric of your underwear, imagining the damp spot was from your arousal and not his own mouth. That small taste of you is what finally sent him hurdling over the edge, inhaling sharply and getting one last whiff of your scent before frantically cumming into the closest piece of cloth... your underwear.

• Rope after rope of pearly white release soaked the fabric, again and again until he'd emptied his balls... and then some. Mike fucked into his hand until it hurt.

• When he eventually re-gained enough of his mental capacities to realize his mistake, he let out a groan. Gingerly, he peeled the sticky fabric from his softening cock, whining at how his sensitive damp skin was now exposed to the cool air.

• As he peered at the ruined garment in front of him, Mike came to the conclusion that his situation was not salvageable. He was completely and utterly fucked. In more ways than one.

• He gently tucked himself back into his boxers with a shudder, still reeling in the aftershocks of his intense orgasm. Okay, step one, get dressed. Step two, skip town and never look back. No way in hell he could face you after this, even if he could miraculously get the cum-stains from your clothing.

• But... he had to, didn't he? He couldn't abandon Abby. Or his home. Or you, even, as much as he wanted to crawl into a hole and die right now.

• So, Mike spent the rest of his shift using an ancient bathroom sink and hand soap trying to scrub the evidence away. Maybe... maybe he could salvage this after all.

Or maybe when he looked at you from now on, he'd only be able to see a sick, twisted fantasy, and the shameful result of his indulgence.

Probably the 2nd one. oh well.

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Author's note:

Hi!! Hi!! Hi hi hi hi hi!!! 😁 I'm so happy to finally be able to post something again!! 🥰

It's been almost a year now since I posted a fic, I hope this was a decent comeback!! This one's dedicated to all you peeps who love this pathetic, tired little man as much as I do <3 (Also, I've made a side-blog where I will be reposting all my fics. If you're only here for fanfic and not my shitposting, I completely understand! Or if you just want to follow me on both but only turn on notifications for fanfic, that works too! The account is @stop-talking-vtwo )

his freckles are so cute i’m going insane

HIS FRECKLES LAWWWD HAVE MERCYYYY

also why is this picture better than my eyesight 🧍‍♂️

reading my old notes app entries is so funny

OMGGGG i’m screaming thank you so much 🙏🙏❤️❤️

Can you recommend any writers for Josh that are the same level good as your fanfictions? <3

Hey so I made a list of jhutch fanfic recommendations a while back!!

All the fics on there are great, 100% on the "same level" as my work (or higher) I LOVE MY MUTUALS!! <3

Since making that list, though, I've started following a lot more jhutch writers, so here's some more people I recommend + my favorite piece(es) of work by them!!

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@starryhutcherson

"No Hablo Español" - a Clapton Davis fic (18+)

♡

@solarissun

"We are never, ever getting back together" - a Mike Schmidt (& Clapton Davis?) fic (18+)

♡

@ask-jhutchverse

(Doesn't really write whole fanfics; askbox project. Very silly little blurbs about all of the Jhutch characters living together. My fav is probably this one about Mike)

♡

@biblio-smia

(Literally just gonna link their masterlist because they have written SO much for Mike Schmidt + some stuff for Clapton that I loveee. I cannot possibly pick one or two)

♡

@freak-accident419

"Soft Spot" - a Derek Danforth fluff fic <3

♡

@janitorhutcherson

"Stoner!Mike Headcannons" (Y'all I'm obsessed with the idea of Mike Schmidt smoking I WILL be writing a fic based on this one day) (18+)

♡

@amentomensmut

"first time for everything" - another stoner Mike Schmidt fic... (obsessed) (18+)

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(To the mutuals I did not @ here, it's probably cuz you're on my old fanfic rec list and I didn't want to bother you with another tag. Still love y'all!!)

HELP

I’ve written for 3 different fandoms and I was thinking of writing for ANOTHER despite none of them being finished

So, I wasn’t going to post this until i was done the fic but I’ve lost all motivation so here’s a blurb of “We are never, ever getting back together” PT 3

(this is so ass)

It’s all over my wall.

Sweet Dreams

Mike Schmidt x fem reader

2.1k words Tags: 18+, fem reader, somnophilia, free use, head (reader receiving), pre-established relationship, morning sex, pussy sniffing, edging sorta?, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie <3 ─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Mike Schmidt is used to his sleep being interrupted. Whether it be nightmares, the annoying screech of an alarm, or even his own sister, he can't ever seem to catch a break when it comes to sleeping.

What he's not used to, however, is waking up to someone else in his bed. Someone else… shaking him? No, that's not right. What are you doing?

He finally opens his tired eyes, twisting to look over his shoulder and catch a glimpse of you as you cling to his back. His breathing slows, and the memories of last night flood back all at once. Right. He has a girlfriend now. Mike isn't sure he's ever going to get used to that.

"What is it, hun?" He asks, absentmindedly patting the leg you've thrown over him as you continue to lightly shake him awake.

When there's no response, he frowns, squinting at you in an attempt to make out your face in the dimly lit room.

Shit, are you… asleep? The realization hits him like a ton of bricks, and suddenly the "shaking" makes a lot more sense. You're not trying to wake him up. You aren't even awake yourself. You're fucking grinding on him in your sleep.

Mike lets out a guttural groan at the thought, closing his eyes and giving the plush skin of your thigh a squeeze as you continue to desperately hump his leg.

Fuck. He swears he can feel how wet you are even through your panties.

For a minute, he just lies there with his hand on you, letting you cling to him from behind and rock your core against his leg. Should he wake you? Or stay still and let you use him to get off? He only hopes you're dreaming about his cock. And shit, that thought has him stiffening in his boxers.

Past conversations flicker through his mind, and a shiver runs down his spine at the memory of you nipping at his neck and softly begging him to do the very thing he's trying to hold himself back from. Fucking you while you're asleep? It just seems... wrong.

Then again, you'd been not-so-subtly hinting to him that you wanted to try it for practically your whole relationship. Mike's face goes red hot as your words echo in his mind.

You all but begged him to fuck you in your sleep, dirty fantasies whispered in his ear during the heat of the moment more times than he could count. Mike knew very well you'd do almost anything for him.

And, well, if you're dreaming about him, he can't very well leave you hanging, can he? You deserve the real deal. It's his job to make sure you're satisfied, isn't it?

With a deep breath, Mike gently pries you from his body. A gentle nudge has you on your back, allowing him to peel away the blankets and get a better look at your sleeping form. The first few rays of morning sun peek through the blinds, highlighting your figure in a soft warm glow.

You're so pretty like this. Mike can't help but sit up and admire you, watching you squirm and whine on his bed. He absentmindedly rubs at his hardening cock through his shorts, grinding the heel of his hand against his length. He can't help himself, he knows it should be YOU getting off right now, but this view is just too good.

Not good enough. His other hand tugs at your panties, slowly, gently, trying his best not to wake you.

No, he's sure now that you need to stay asleep. You deserve to rest, to be taken care of. There's no reason to wake you.

He loses all interest in his own pleasure once your panties come off- going dizzy at the sight of you dripping on his sheets. Holy shit. THAT wet for him? How long had you been teasing yourself in your unconscious state before he'd finally woken up?

Fuck. Doesn't matter. He quietly lowers himself into position, struggling to go slow in an attempt not to wake you. Strong arms wrap around your thighs, spreading you open so his tongue can do the heavy lifting.

He wants to taste you, but can't resist the urge to smell you first. His eyes flutter shut as his nose buries between your folds, just barely nudging your clit as he inhales deeply.

Even with just the barest flicker of contact to your sensitive spot, your thighs start to tense in his arms. It was clear you wanted this, needed this, needed him.

"You're fuckin' lucky to have me," he whispers, the words getting lost in the soft wet licking sounds as he begins to lap at your wet pussy. You taste so familiar, so warm, like home. He closes his eyes and gets lost in you, groaning into your core as your taste and smell overwhelm his senses.

You may not be awake to instruct him, to guide him with a fistful of his hair like usual, but Mike's sure his performance is more than adequate as you start to lightly buck your hips against his face.

A quick glance up at you tells him you're still asleep, if only barely so. He gently circles your clit with his tongue, preening over the small hum it earns from you.

Your eyes dart rapidly under your eyelids, almost fluttering open as Mike's tongue movements grow more rapid. Fuck, you'd better be dreaming about him.

Mike knows he should finish you off. Put you out of your misery. His poor girl, who knows how long that pathetic attempt to get off on his leg had lasted? Still, he doesn't want this to end so soon.

Something about having you under his control, knowing he could make you cum at any moment, was just so delicious. Mercy be damned, he was going to enjoy this. Play with his pretty little toy till you wake up or gush all over his face. Whichever came first.

Gingerly, still scared to wake you, he prods at your entrance with a thick middle finger. It slides in perfectly, your pussy greedily taking what's offered. For a few moments, Mike just pulls away and stares, hypnotized by the way you perfectly swallow each thrust of his hand.

Usually, you'd be mumbling some kind of praise or thanks right now. Always so grateful when he ate you out, like it was an inconvenience, a favor, something that put you in his debt. Maybe if you could see just how hard his cock was, you'd realize the truth.

Mike enjoyed this just as much as, (if not more than) you.

The throbbing in his boxers made that painfully obvious to Mike as he latched onto your clit, giving it the faintest teasing tug with his lips. Your cunt clenched around his finger in response, hard. That close still, huh? He'd have to be careful.

He focused his attention inside. Quick, shallow thrusts of his hand had your walls fluttering around his finger in a way that made his dick jealous. Before you could tip over the edge, Mike took his hand away, groaning at the strand of slick that still connected his finger to your cunt. Like you didn't want to let him go.

Are you even asleep at this point? Mike spares a glance up at your face as he licks every trace of your taste off his hand. Somehow, you still seemed to be unconscious, through everything. He could imagine you faking it, pretending to be helpless knowing he'd do all the work for you. And he would, too. Mike would always take care of his pretty girl.

Still, he has to know for sure. It takes a little maneuvering, but in a few moments he's positioned over you, using all his willpower not to grind his stiff bulge into your pussy.

"Gonna fuck you, princess," he whispers, lips ghosting against the shell of your ear as he plants a quick kiss to the side of your head. No response.

Mike decides to push his luck even further, hiking your legs up on his shoulders and folding you over into an absolutely filthy mating press. He was so worked up from teasing you he couldn't even be bothered to fully kick off his underwear, simply pulling it down around his thighs as he lined himself up with your entrance. His poor cock was red-tipped and leaking precum that soaked him down to the base. A perfect match for your own soaked pussy.

It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time for him to finish. You started creaming around his cock after just a few shallow thrusts, pussy convulsing and milking every drop of cum from him. Mike swears he saw your eyes flutter open for a moment as your orgasm hit, shallow breaths and small whimpers music to his ears as he rode out the high.

As his pulse settled and dick softened, Mike melted into the bed next to you. He wasn't going to worry about clean up yet, not wanting to waste this time with you. No, he'd just throw a blanket over you both and worry about it later. Out of sight, out of mind.

Part of him couldn't believe you were still fucking sleeping after all his effort. Maybe he'd been working you too hard lately, or maybe you'd just built a tolerance over the months of sharing a bed with him. You may have mentioned his tendency to toss and turn in his sleep a few times. Oops. Was he that bad?

Mike wraps a strong arm around your torso, picking you up and guiding you to rest on his chest, no longer worried about the possibility of waking you. He drifted back off to sleep holding you in his arms, whispering a quick "thank you, baby".

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When you finally wake up a couple hours later, Mike just smiles and nods as you tell him about the "wet dream" you had. He's content to lay there with you all morning, stroking your hair and listening to you babble into his chest.

"It felt so real, Mikey. You don't understand." You sigh longingly, tilting your head and focusing sleepy eyes on his.

Mike got the hint from your bedroom eyes alone. The pleading little pout was definitely overkill. Any other morning, he would have fallen victim right away, eagerly scrambling to undress you and lay claim to that perfect body.

However, with earlier satisfaction to tide him over, he had time to tease.

"Oh? I wouldn't understand?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"No!" you insist, shaking your head vehemently. "I don't think I've ever had a dream that strong. I... I think I might have actually..."

Mike just chuckles as you squirm in his arms, eyes going glassy and glazed over as you recall the vivid dream.

"Why are you so damn smug, Michael?" Your demeaner shifts in an instant, playfully nipping at his neck in mock anger. "It was dream Mike who made me cum. You're just lying here like a lump."

He scoffs and grabs at your wrist, pulling away the accusatory finger jabbing into his chest. "You sure about that sweetheart? Didn't you go to bed with panties on?"

For a moment, you just freeze. Mike watches the gears turn in your head as you make the connection, his smile only growing more smug. He had been wondering how long it'd take for you to notice his cum dripping down your thighs.

"Mike! You... you didn't..." gasping, you scan his face for any sign of dishonesty. Was this really happening? Did he really use you while you were asleep?

The chuckle that slips through his lips solidifies it for you, and suddenly you're very aware of just how bare your lower half is. That bastard.

Not that you didn't want it, oh the contrary. This was a dream. Literally. But the fact he'd let you gush over your wet dream to him in detail? Without telling you the truth?

Oh, that deserved punishment.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you squeal, sitting up and slamming a pillow onto his face with both hands.

Finally, Mike can't hold back anymore, and laughs. A true, genuine laugh that you only get to hear in rare moments of joy like this. Even muffled as it is through the pillow, it makes you smile.

He lets you feel like you're in control for all of sixty seconds, only using half his strength to push back against you as you smother him triumphantly.

In one quick, decisive swoop, Mike ends the little play wrestling match by flipping you over. He's on top of you now, forehead pressed against yours as he whispers mere centimeters from your lips.

"M'not letting you sleep through round two, sweetheart."

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Reminder that you should follow me on @stop-talking-vtwo if you only want to be updated for new fic drops and not my shitposts <3

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