#william afton x black reader

[mcondance]

note: office sex, fnaf takes place in the 2000s so william’s gf is a Black juicy tracksuit hyperfem girly!, cervix kissing, praise (it’s me what do you expect), reader has braids, that’s it i believe

something along the lines of being bent over wiiliam’s desk in his office, thrown over mountains of paper spread over his desk while the words almost swim across the pages.

tracksuit pooled around your ankles, the red fabric pulled down hastily to let you and william get to the business that he finds much more important than counseling people on what jobs to get, it’s a show of desperation with how he fucks into you.

your shirt and jacket are splayed by the chair near the door, he’d pulled them off a couple minutes after you entered the room, after the candy scent that always follows you filled his nose as he hangs onto your every little word, his blue eyes dilating like a fuckin pavlovian dog, his whole body pumping blood to his cock at your smell, at the sight of the sparkling glitter that hangs onto your entire being.

your hands grip tight at the old wood, colorful acrylics sliding, trying and failing to find a tether as steve sends your body pressing into his desk. his hips are strong and rough as they slap wildly against the soft curve of your ass, big hands draped over your waist and digging just a little too hard into your dewy skin, a soft sheen casted over you, your back shimmery with sweat and sparkles.

stretched is how you feel, filled an even better word for the way he makes a home for himself inside you, fucks you so good you drool onto the desk beneath you, a disgusting pool of slick spit that you know he’ll see as a trophy after you’ve both had your fills.

a soft chuckle meets your ears, a rough hand slides up your thigh and it has you shivering, clenching down on his cock as he huffs out a groan, his eyes transfixed by how your body rocks forward and your ass ripples with each of his firm thrusts.

with every forward push of his hips the desk creaks, his hips against your ass sounds out, perverse pats and slaps filling the white-lit room. even in the poor lighting you look so pretty bent over like this, braids tossed to the side so they don’t get “messed up”, as he says, his infatuation with everything you do clear as day.

“pretty, pretty girl” he purrs, pushing in as deep as he can go now and you let you a pretty little cry, his girth stretching you out, thick tip pressing softly against your cervix. he stays there, humming appreciatively at your sounds and how you push back against him, grinding his pulsating length against that electric spot inside you.

“feels so good, so go- ah” you cut yourself off with a gasped squeak as he grinds himself just right and pushes forward. your head rolls forward, face down, and you’re pushed onto the desk again, glowy hands flexing as you tense up, teary eyes snapping shut. again he pushes, a little harder this time, and his name tag falls off the desk and clatters to the floor, the noise barely heard by either of you for being lost in the haze of pleasure.

“what, baby? finish your sentence.” he muses with a sensual lilt, delivering slow grinds. he wants to hear your slurred voice, wants to hear your heavy tongue try and fail to convey how you feel. but still, he asks, though he knows you’re too filled to even think.

he receives no response, just a hoarse groan, and his eyes find your hands; he almost coos at the way they’ve stopped grasping at his desk. you can’t even try to calm yourself down. he’s taken that from you.

shaking, you push your ass back weakly against him. he gladly follows your movements with admiration at how good you look fucking yourself on him.

“pussy fuckin’ me so good,” he groans, pulling back and pushing forward, feeding off your nasty, unbridled moans until he’s back at the pace he was before. the lewd sounds of sex fill the room again, your whined response to his groan mixing with skin against skin and the wet squelch of your cunt pervading out through the air.

your hand flies to his soft stomach, nails scraping his pillowy skin. he catches your wrist, intertwining his fingers with yours in a gesture that would be romantic if you weren’t being fucked nasty over his desk.

he doesn’t have to talk much and neither do you, you’re more than happy to just listen to the sounds that escape you both as you meet in the middle again and again and again.

[iluvmegantheestallion]

Cigarettes

(This story is inspired by another writer @scaredofbrits)

Summary: You've been a good girl all your life. Never party, did drugs, have sex, drink alcohol, or smoke until now. You tried smoking until your boss caught you, but instead of firing you, he joined you and taught you how to smoke.

Living in this small town has it perks. Y/n did not like staying here since her parents decided to move here, but you didn't complain. You worked at Freddy fazebear's pizzeria. You do enjoy working, fixing the busted games, and smelling the greasy pizza. Y/n only worked here to save up some money so she can leave this town and enjoy her life. Y/n is best friends with Michael.

Y/n first met Michael in school. He was a popular kid, and you'd see him in your math and science class. He's been suspended a lot. You first got a chance to talk to him when you first became a tutor for him since he was failing his classes. You helped with work, and he started to actually understand, and his grades went up, and that's when you guys became best friends.

You were walking with Michael, and he couldn't be more thankful for you helping him with his homework. "Thanks y/n for helping me, I couldn't do this without you, seriously." Michael looked at y/n sincerely as he smiled at her. "No problem, anything for a friend." Y/n smiles back at him. Y/n saw Michael reached inside his Jean pockets and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He took one cigarette, and he looked back at you. "You want one?" Michael asked. Your goody two shoes mind would clearly say 'no', but you somehow wanted to say yes. "Uhhm, no, thank you." Y/n said, passing on the offer. "Suit yourself." Michael shrugged, nonchalantly placing the cigarette between his lips as he took out his lighter lighting the end of the cigarette.

Y/n stared at intriguingly as he huffed the smoke out. Y/n seen her mom smoked in the house whenever she was stressed about something. "You're missing out, y/n. This shit is relaxing." Michael smirked at y/n as he continued smoking. "Uhhm, trust me, I'm fine." Y/n said back as they continued walking.

Y/n looked down at her watch, and she was late, and she had to go back to work. "Oh shoot, I have to go, I'll see you later, Michael." Y/n says as she hugged him goodbye as she walked away.

Y/n urgently rushed inside the pizzeria. "You're late, y/n." One of her colleagues said to her. "I know I lost track of time -" "Chill out, y/n I was just kidding, I don't think they care. You've been employed of the month, I don't think they give a fuck if you're since your Mr. Afton's favorite." Y/n's coworker said to her they cleaned the messy tables.

"Why do you think I'm his favorite?" Y/n asked curiosity getting the best of her.

"Well, you listen to the rules. You're a workaholic. You fixed the games, and he's never rude to you like he is with the rest of us." Y/n's coworker said to y/n blandly, not focusing on her.

Y/n never knew she was Mr. afton's favorite. He does seem a bit less intense when he was around y/n. He pays her very fairly, and he congratulates y/n whenever she does a good job at fixing the games for the kids, works overtime, and covers other people's shifts.

"I know this may sound crazy but do you have a pack of cigarettes and a lighter?" Y/n as her coworker looks back at y/n surprised with a little smirk on her face.

" Is Miss Goody two shoes asking to smoke?" Y/n's coworker jokes as she rolls her eyes. "Look, I know I'm uptight and never do what teenagers do, but I wanna see what it's like." Y/n answers back. "Ok, fine, but on one condition." Y/n's coworker says smirking, knowing they want something. "You have to cover my shift while I'm gone, I'm going to a party and I don't wanna stay here." Y/n's coworker explains. "Deal." Y/n says as they shake hands with each other. The coworker looks around as they hand y/n the lighter and pack of cigarettes. "Knock yourself out, princess." Y/n's coworker says as they give y/n the rag and walks out of Freddy's.

Y/n has been cleaning, fixing the game, and making sure the kids don't get too close to the animatronics. Y/n checks her watch and decides to take a little break. Y/n went to a secluded room, Michael told her that this was his favorite place to smoke in. "Cmon y/n you can do this, stop being a chicken." Y/n told herself. Y/n pulls out the pack of cigarettes as she puts them between her lips. Y/n started to think about how Michael smoked. Y/n pulls out the lighter and closely puts it at the end of the cigarette, but she is interrupted.

Y/n was startled as the door flinged open as she knew who it was. Mr. Afton. Y/n urgently places the lighter in her pocket and the cigarette in her hand and hides it behind her back.

"I've never knew you were a smoker y/n? You don't seem like a girl to do that?" William says camly making y/n a bit nervous.

"I wasn't smoking?" Y/n lies as William chuckles.

"Oh love, I'm not blind I saw you." William smirks, coming his way over to y/n.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Afton, please don't fire me. I just wanted to try. And how it feels like -" y/n was rambling as her heart started racing but William cuts her off.

"Nonsene darling, I just came here for a smoke break myself. It gets tiring running this establishment." William told y/n as he comes closer to her.

"I see you wanted to learn how to smoke, I can teach you if you like." William smiles. Y/n felt a bit weird about this situation since her boss was teaching her how to smoke, but she was Willing to learn.

"Don't be afraid, darling. I don't bite." His whispered as he smirked. Y/n nodded her head as William smiles at her.

Y/n places the cigarette between her lips as William lights it. "Take your time, darling. Inhale and let it out." William explains as y/n follows his exact words.

Y/n inhales the smoke as she lets it out all out. Y/n coughed a little bit, but it was actually quite fun. "There you go, darling. Now you're getting a hand of it." William congratulates. "This quite relaxing, actually." Y/n smiles as she continues smoking.

William pulls out a pack of his own cigarettes and puts in between his lips. "May I borrow your lighter, darling." William asks his soft British accent, rolling off his tongue so perfectly. You give him the lighter as he lights his cigarette as he inhales the smoke and lets it out.

"Come closer y/n, I want to show you something cool, sweetheart." William says as he smokes but holds it in his mouth.

Y/n comes closer to William as they look like they were gonna kiss. Making y/n have butterflies in her stomach. The two of you connected your lips together, and the smoke went into your mouth as you both didn't take your eyes off of each other. William chuckles as he inhales and blew it out. You both started smiling, which turned to laughter.

"This was really fun, but I have to get back to work, darling." William says making y/n frown, but William notices.

"Don't be sad, darling. we can still do this again." William holds your face into his hands. Y/n smiles as he looks at William.

"This will be our little secret." William says as he kisses the tip of your nose as he smirks at your flushed face. William walks towards the door, winking at you, leaving you alone in your room.

Y/n smiles to herself as she continues smoking, and she smells the strong and toxic smell that fills the dim light room. I guess y/n isn't goody two shoes after all.

[jokeringcutio]

"Almost Kidnapped" - BLACK PHONE & FNAF CROSSOVER - READER INSERT (GRABBER X READER (and implied your boss William Afton having an eye on you) [ 2/?]

AN: Enjoy your Sunday 🥳 As I am known to do, I might just start a few drabbles in this setting because I love it. Might follow up on this [ This is a nice job ].

Summary: You have a narrow escape. ( 'You're working at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place for William Afton and Mr. Henry, and Albert Shaw (aka the infamous kidnapper known as The Grabber) regularly performs as a magician at parties').

Fandoms: Five Nights at Freddy's, The Black Phone | Rating: Mature?  Warnings: Talk about arousal (but quite politely), Reader almost gets kidnapped. Older man/younger woman, Only implied William Afton x Reader & Grabber(Albert Shaw) x Reader, Flirting with murderers? Not betaread. [ Support x ]

"Five minutes, no more," Erica's voice cut through the cacophony of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place. “I’ll cover for you.”

Gratefully, you nodded, muscles uncoiling as you slipped out the back door, hoping your boss wouldn’t notice your short absence. But it had been such a hectic day. The pizza place was stuffy and crowded, with multiple parties held at once. And Freddy’s was short of staff, leaving you with Justin and Erica. Lucy was ill, Jax was abroad, and Mike and El were at a wedding. Thank goodness you had Erica by your side or you wouldn’t survive the day at all.

Especially with the way your boss, Mr. Afton, kept looking in your direction with that stern gaze. As if he saw something that disturbed him. You had checked your uniform several times, made sure there was nothing stuck between your teeth, and all of that. Whatever made him look at you that way, it was unnerving you and you needed a breather.

The second you stepped outside and the hot summer air brushed past your cheeks, you realized you were not alone. A black van was parked in the parking lot in front of you. Its owner was busy loading the van. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Today’s performer hadn’t left the premises yet, it seemed.

Not many people came around the back; only staff or suppliers. Well, both staff and supplier then, you thought amused.

You curiously watched as Albert Shaw tried to stack cardboard boxes inside the van. He was still dressed in his magician’s clothes. Black flared pants clung to his legs, a top hat perched atop a head with a face painted ghostly white. Red peeked from beneath his black shirt, a silent scream against the somber attire.

He looked pretty hot… for an old man.

Okay, you had to shake that thought away. You knew you and Mr. Shaw had some kind of flirty thing going on – although granted, it could just be mostly in your head. Something along the lines of wishful thinking and so on… But having such thoughts about him would only make things awkward. You needed to clear your mind before you approached him. Will those dirty thoughts away.

Which was pretty hard as you watched him bent forward and caught a good glimpse of the tight fabric stretching around his thighs and... You quickly glanced away and swallowed. Hard.

This was ridiculous. You were already incredibly itching down below, but who could blame you? You’d been focusing on little details like this the entire afternoon. You’d last seen him only half an hour ago or so, when he was giving his last show. He’d been performing all afternoon. The way he captivated the room and made children smile had something magical. Perhaps it was only fitting that he performed as a magician. But still… There was something about this man.

You just couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. Your gaze traveled to see how he lifted one of the boxes. His unclad forearms tensed, his muscles and veins showed, and you bit your lip. Yep, definitely appealing. The man looked like he was a lot stronger than anyone would give him credit for. You wondered if he worked out.

But what was he stacking in there? You knew he had been the entertainer this afternoon, but Mr. Afton and Mr. Henry bought a lot of their party supplies from him too. Was he taking empty boxes back with him? They shouldn’t be heavy. So what was he doing?

You curiously peeked around the average-sized man, catching a glimpse of stacked boxes and brown paper bags now that the backdoors were open and the interior of the van was exposed. Then he shifted until he blocked your view.

Albert Shaw bent forward a little, clearly putting some of his magical equipment inside the van before he straightened his spine and turned around. When he saw you, he flashed you a smile.

“If I had known I had an audience I would have put on a better show,” he greeted you in that low and gravelly voice of his. Did he smoke, you wondered? You’d never seen him do it. But how else could he sound this animalistic, this raw?

The white makeup cracked as his smile broadened. Sunglasses hid his grey eyes, leaving you to guess the expression that lay within them. Your pulse quickened.

“I’m just here to catch some fresh air,” you truthfully replied. And did you just stammer? You didn’t, right?

“Getting a little heated, sweetheart?” he murmured, and by the gods… that did things to you. It was almost as if he knew how he affected you.

“Trying to escape the chaos for a moment,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. You tilted your head, eyes tracing the contours of his frame, the sinewy strength of his arms. "Your performance earlier today was... mesmerizing."

He chuckled, a sound that rumbled from deep within his chest. "I try to please my… audience," the way he said that last word sounded sinful, as if he implied something erotic.

You bit your lip. "Well, you're very good at what you do," you said, stepping closer, the gravel crunching beneath your shoes.

"Need a hand unloading?" The words slipped out before you could stop them, an offer to linger in his presence, to be closer to him. Something about him was attracting you like a magnet.

"Already done," Shaw said, gesturing towards the back of his van. The doors stood open like dark wings, and you peered inside, drawn by curiosity. You saw the boxes he’d placed inside, the brown paper bags. The sight of several black helium balloons bobbing against the roof of the van caught your attention.

"Black ballons?" You asked curiously, a smile playing on your lips. He usually supplied colorful ones to Afton and Henry.

"Part of the act," Shaw replied, a hint of pride in his voice.

You smiled at him before looking inside once more, admiring the balloons when something metallic clattered to the ground from his grasp.

"Oops," he muttered, a clumsy interlude to his usual grace.

Instinctively, you bent to retrieve it, your fingers brushing the cool metal. It was a silver bracelet, engraved with arcane symbols. His bracelet, you recognized with a start. He always seemed to wear it, just like the rings on his fingers – which you hadn’t studied to see if he was married or not… of course not.

You were weighing the bracelet in your hand when something tickled your senses; a prickling warning that made the hairs on your neck stand.

In a swift motion, you turned back to him, thrusting the bracelet at him with both hands and surprising yourself when you noticed this simple gesture seemed to increase the space between you. It made him take a step back. You hadn’t felt him coming.

“Oh, I forgot,” you started, exclaiming it a little too happily to cover your fear.

Albert Shaw stood momentarily frozen, a canister in his grip, aimed at you. You could see the way his jaw twitched, as if you had caught him during something sinister. Your heart thudded against your ribs, each beat screaming for you to flee, to scream. But no. Surely, you must be mistaken. You’d play this the clever way, distract him, puzzle him. Surely you were misinterpreting things. He was just loading his van. The canister must have fallen out or something.

“Your card,” you said, scrambling your brain for words. You searched for his gaze behind the glasses, your breath steady, betraying none of the terror that surged through your veins. He was close enough that you could see the faintest quiver in his hands and smell the sharp tang of chemicals coming from the canister.

"I’m so sorry, Mr. Shaw," you said. You tilted your head, feigning innocence.

Albert Shaw's composure cracked, the corners of his lips started to tremble as he tried to maintain a small smile. The canister disappeared behind him, his arm hooked as he hid the item behind his back as casually as he could muster. But you had seen it, and you had felt the danger. The fact that he hid the item now only raised your suspicion even more. What had he wanted to do with that thing? Drug you?

"I seem to have lost your business card and I was wondering…” you bit your lip, faking shyness. You wanted to take a step back but didn’t dare to move. The air between you was thick with tension, as if one wrong move could mean the end – of what, you didn’t know. Surely you were just paranoid. Surely, the man hired to perform at kids parties wouldn’t try and hurt you.

But still… it felt off.

Putting your hands behind your back, you looked at him through your lashes as you murmured gently if he could perhaps give you another card. Yeah, that’s it. Fake ignorance. Flatter him. Flirt a little. What harm could it do?

It seemed to work as his breath hitched in his throat, his chest rising as his lips parted in a stuttered yet silent sigh. You thought you could see his nostrils flare as he tried to compose himself.

"Of course," he said, a low murmur that sounded bittersweet. He reached into his van, movements deliberate – but you still caught sight of how he placed the canister out of view, in a corner behind the door. Now you could no longer see it and attempt to read the label. You could only guess what it had been filled with.

He fumbled with his bracelet, putting it back on smoothly before he pulled out a card with his name and number on it. Then he offered it to you with a hand that trembled ever so slightly. Calloused fingertips brushed gently past yours as he pressed the card into your hands. A current of electricity snapping between you, dangerous and undeniable.

"Thanks, Mr. Shaw," you said, pocketing the card without looking, your eyes never leaving the abyss of his sunglasses. You deliberately mentioned his name, hoping it would disarm him and put any nefarious thoughts out of his head.

Well, depending on the nature of those nefarious thoughts.

He stood close to you. So close that you could feel the heat of his body, a wall of warmth as he leaned in close to point at the details on the card.

“In case you ever need me to liven up a party,” he murmured, voice dark and deep. His breath skimmed your ear as he murmured instructions on how to reach him, voice low and rough, like dragging stones across velvet. "Call anytime."

"Will do." You pocketed the lie along with the card, stepping back, distance a frail shield.

"I think more than five minutes have passed,” you said, hesitating. You tried to search his eyes through the glasses but they remained hidden from you. All you saw was Shaw’s crooked smile.

"I’m afraid it has,” he agreed, warmth bleeding through his tone, a contrast to the chill that had crawled into your bones when you’d been on your knees to retrieve his bracelet for him. A bracelet that seemed to be clasped quite securely around his forearm, you noticed. How had he lost it anyway?

"Got to head back," you said, stepping away and flashing a small smile to signal you were ending the conversation. Get out of here, your mind screamed. Don’t be silly, another voice inside your head whispered. Why would Mr. Shaw harm you? Everyone knew who he was. He was a well-known face around Freddy’s. “Break's over."

You turned to leave but then froze when you felt a hand upon the small of your back. He touched you. He actually touched you. A gentle but firm touch, and for a moment you thought you would die. That this was it. That he would drag you into his van and slam the door closed, taking you away from your job and the life you had once known.

But nothing like that happened. His touch was heavy but gentle. Not in a harmful way. Not in a way to pull you aside. It was a guiding touch, protective almost, leading you to the safety of the backdoor.

He walked with you. The sound of his footsteps on the gravel first and then on the pavement as you neared the threshold kept you distracted. Up this close, you could smell his heady scent, a mixture of cologne and sweat. You heard his breathing, low and ragged. You felt his touch searing through the fabric of your uniform.

His hand tightened against your spine, fingers pressing deep enough to claim. A silent message carved into your skin.

Your lips parted, astonished, confused.

Then he released you, as if surrendering something precious.

"Until next time.”

The words were a whispered promise, a low grumble heavy with implications and sentiment – but loud enough for you to hear.

“Bye, Mr. Shaw,” you said, hesitating. You didn’t want to give him a promise of meeting him again, although you were certain you would see him more often as he regularly performed here.

But what nonsense were you thinking?

You halted at the door, flashing him a final smile while you watched him take a step back into the sunlight and out of the shadow of the building. The paint on his face was a blinding white and you had to squint your eyes a little when you studied him.

He seemed harmless. Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling you had when you picked up his bracelet and handed it back to him. The feeling that something really bad was going to happen.

You closed the door.

Had you averted danger? Or had your senses been wrong?

AN: Well? Have you averted danger? Let me know.

[angeliccelestt]

[pleasantangelpaper]

Character Masterlists:

Hello! This will be my Masterlist for fics about different characters!

(Anything made with FTM reader in mind is from when I was certain I was FTM, I am no longer sure, and therefore have settled upon gender neutral reader.)

If a story contains smut, I will have a 🍋

Remus Lupin:

-The Man in the Moon: Remus Lupin x Trans FTM! Reader

-To Keep You Warm: Remus Lupin x GN! Reader

William Afton/Steve Raglan

-To Run From The Sky: William Afton x GN! Reader (Part 1)

Stu Macher

-Video Killed The Radio Star: Stu Macher x Fem! Reader (Part 1)

Billy Loomis

*Coming Soon*

Stanford Pines

- My Knight in Shining Glasses (Part 1)

[scarisd3ad]

Promptober ‘23 taglist

Promptober ‘23 masterlist

If you would like to be tagged in every post for Promptober this year please like/reply to this post 🫶🏻

-

@leonkennedylefthand @maexyn @truecobblepot @mfnqueen1 @zoey5252 @nezukos-number1fan @bxbyyyjocelyn @dr3amyk1ng

-

[bratphilia]

glass window (w. afton x reader)

request: "POOHKIE BEAR HEAR ME OUT!!!! dad's best friend!william. y'all just moved into the neigborhood, and you've been oh so busy with college/working that you hadn't had the time to introduce yourself to william (tho steve for the sake of keeping his identity yada yada) and so like, the moment you get the chance to? william aka steve cannot contain his thoughts abt you oml !! ur just so fucking pretty !! delicate !! those fucking skirts you wear, in the summers of utah (i think thats where the movie/fnaf location is canonically) he'd so.. hungry for you.. bonus points if theres a height/size difference omg JUST HEAR ME OUT POOHKIE!!!- i'll be going under as the 🧚‍♀️ anon!"

note: okay yeah i went a lil crazy with this one but i just loved this request sm. probably my favorite fic ive written so far.

pairing: steve raglan / william afton x reader

tags: age gap (reader is college age 18-21 and william is 45-50), creepy and stalking behavior from william, oral sex (m + f receiving), slight dubcon, doggy style, mating press, multiple orgasms, william having insane stamina at his age

you and your parents just moved to hurricane, utah, aka the most boring town you've ever been to. the second day in your new house, while you were at your criminology class, your neighbor, steve raglan came by to welcome your family to the neighborhood. they mentioned having a college aged daughter. he didn't think much about at the time. it was a passing comment after all.

a few weeks pass by and steve started to become a frequent visitor to your household. however, each of those times you have either been at school or at work. he had no idea who you are.

that is, until one day you come home in the evening after a class while steve is over having a glass of wine with your dad. you close the door behind you to see the door to the backyard open. curiously, you poke your head out and spot your dad with an unfamiliar face, and you stand shyly in the doorway expectantly.

"hey, sweetie," your dad says. "this is steve raglan. our next door neighbor i was telling you about."

you walk towards him when steve holds his hand out for you to shake. "nice to meet you, mr. raglan."

mr. raglan. his ears practically perk up at that. he drinks in your appearance. you're wearing a black, short tennis skirt that stops mid-thigh with a pretty white blouse.

"nice to meet you too," he says politely, trying his hardest not to come across as creepy.

your dad turns to you. "how was class?"

"it was okay. i do have a lot of homework to do, so i should probably go," you say, then turn to steve and wave as you go, "it was nice to meet you again."

his eyes never leave your bare legs as you walk away. and well, he wanted to fucking ruin you.

steve notices something interesting about you while mowing the lawn. there's a gate in the back of your house where he can see a glass door from the angle he's at in the front of his yard. a glass door that, he discovers, is the back entrance to your bedroom.

he decides to make good use of his porch.

at this point, he contemplates buying a pair of binoculars, but that felt like a little too much. for now, he had the view he needed to satisfy him. he even took a few photos that he saves for material to use in his personal time.

unbeknownst to you, steve is absolutely obsessed with you.

his heart skips a beat every time you take a walk in the neighborhood, when, coincidentally, he's sitting on the porch pretending to read a newspaper, and you wave at him and smile. he always returns your smile and waves back kindly.

one day, when you're walking past his house, he notices something gold falling to the ground. when you're out of sight, he goes to investigate, only to find a gold ring that could have only belonged to you. the perfect opportunity. steve waits about a week and keeps your ring with him on top of his nightstand.

sometimes, he notices you like to leave your door open on a particularly hot day. surely you couldn't be naïve to think no one would break in, right? you're just so pretty, who knows who could follow you home from the shadows.

on one particularly hot day, you leave your door open. almost invitingly. and steve watches as your mom's car passes by his house, going out, while he knows for a fact that your dad is working. it's his time to strike.

steve makes his way across the street and through the back gate. he looks through the window to find you reading a book while sitting on your bed. he taps on the glass to get your attention. your eyes snap from the book to the door to see him standing there.

"hi, uhm, can i help you, mr. raglan?" you say, getting up. you look shocked, clearly a little freaked out he came through the back of your house, he presumes.

steve smiles and walks in uninvited, making you back up a little as he steps closer. "hi stranger, i just wanted to return something of yours that you dropped a few days ago."

he turns up the ring in his hand and watches your eyes widen. "i've been looking all over for this! thank you so much."

steve watches as you take the ring from his palm and slip it back on your finger. "you know, i've been wondering something."

you look up at him. "what's that?"

he chuckles lightly and closes the door behind him. "i can't help but notice that you like to leave your door open, and i just wonder how you possibly think that's safe for you."

"i—i don't know what you mean," you say, confused. you fidget with ring on your finger nervously, not liking the direction this conversation is going in.

"well, you know just about anyone could come in here and take advantage of you. you wouldn't want that, hmm?" he asks, stepping towards you and cupping your jaw. "or maybe you would. is that why you do it?"

you inhale. "mr. raglan, i don't think this is appropriate—"

"neither is the way you've been teasing me, little girl," steve retorts and you flash him a scandalized look. "oh, come on, don't think i don't notice. your short skirts showing off that even tinier figure and the way you always seem so eager to get my attention. i know the game you're playing."

he cups your jaw as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip for entrance. you grant him access and he slips his tongue into your mouth. it's a slow, sensual kiss. you're moaning into his mouth as he takes full control. 

steve's hands travel from your face, to your waist, and to your ass to squeeze. you whimper into his mouth and he laughs lowly against you. 

slowly he breaks away from you. "take off your clothes and get on the bed on all fours. now." 

you make a show of taking off your clothes for him. you keep eye contact with him as you unbutton your shirt and discard it mindlessly. then you reach around your back to unclasp your bra, baring your chest to him.

"beautiful," he comments. "take off your panties but keep the skirt on." 

you do what he says and get in the lewd position steve requested a moment ago, mind racing with what he would possibly do to you. you grip the sheets almost nervously and rub your thighs together to relieve the tension in your core. 

steve practically saunters over to you and gives a low whistle. "such a pretty pussy." 

you blush realizing your skirt rode up to your waist. you shiver when he places a cold hand on your ass, kneeding it roughly. 

"ooh," you moan, arching your back needily, making him laugh.

"need it that bad, huh, baby?" 

"yes," you say quietly, turning head around to look at him. 

"don't worry, honey, i'll take good care of you," he says with a twisted smile. 

he leans forward to press a kiss on your slit, moaning at the wetness that drips onto his lips. he wastes absolutely no time eating you out and laps at your pussy like a starving man. you can't bear to look at him anymore, the obscene noises of him slurping causing your face to burn with embarrassment.

you can't help but push back against his face much to his delight. you can feel his beard scratching against you, as delicious as you imagined. the friction of him smothering his face into you is making you whimper and moan helplessly. you wish you could grasp onto him or close your thighs, but this position and being completely at his disposal makes it all the more hotter.

he smacks kisses on your clit, sucking and rolling the sensitive nub around with his tongue. one particular harsh suck where he tugs on your clit ever so gently with his teeth has you coming on his face. he keeps going until you're squirming and begging him to stop.

he pulls away from you almost remorsefully. "thanks for the meal, babe," he says, wiping his mouth. something that would have otherwise made you cringe in disgust if it didn't come from him.

"ready for my cock, sweet girl?" he asks.

you can only murmur out a "mhm" as you were already too fucked out to verbalize anything.

he just laughs at your disposition. "don't get too tired on me yet, sweetheart, i still have so much planned for you."

the clinking of metal gets you excited all over again. he pushes into you with a groan. "fuckin' tight like a vice," he curses.

he thrusts into you experimentally, gaging your reaction for which angle makes you moan the loudest. when he finds the right one, he picks up the tempo instantly. your room is filled with the noises of his balls smacking against your ass, his grunts and your incessant moaning. he wraps a hand in your hair and the other rests on your hip for leverage.

"you like that, baby? like the feeling of me inside you?" steve asks you teasingly but you can barely respond. "fuck, you feel so good around me. my good girl."

"please, let me come," you whine desperately, bucking your hips backwards so it meets his thrusts.

"i will, honey, i will."

suddenly he flips you over so you're on your back and bends your legs in half. the manhandling is an added bonus. "i want you to look at me when you come, okay?"

"okay..." you mumble, letting him use your pussy for whatever he pleases at this point.

one specifically hard and calculated thrust has you reeling. your orgasm is definitely in sight. you can feel your stomach begin to coil, ready to snap.

"mr. raglan!" you draw out the syllables of his name, signifying you're close.

"ngh — keep calling me that, honey, it's so fuckin' hot."

you can feel him close as well as his grunts and groans grow louder and his thrusts get more erratic and shallow. he decides to drill into you even harder for the sake of your own orgasm, making you almost scream out his name as you squeeze your eyes shut and come.

he pulls out before he finishes and beckons you over to him. "suck me dry, baby. want you to taste yourself on me when i come."

tiredly, you sit up and take is cock into your mouth. since he's already close he takes the initiative to thrust into your mouth while you gag around him. the noises you're making only add to his arousal.

he's grunting incoherent dirty praises, about how good and tight your mouth feels, and how you're such a good girl for him. he comes with one final, drawn out groan as he throws his head back. spurts of his ejaculate shoot down your throat and you try your best to swallow what he gives you, but some dribble down your chin.

you pull your mouth off of him and he brings his lips to your for another kiss, licking the remnants of his orgasm from your lips and chin. when you pull away breathlessly he's grinning from ear to ear.

"so good f'me," he compliments sweetly, making you smile.

maybe hurricane isn't so bad after all.

[fandomwritingbit]

💀Hallowe'en Special💀

After Hours,

Springtrap x fem reader

Synop: Sneaking into a horror attraction after dark was really fucking stupid and you're about to find out just how much. 

A/n: I totally get that this probably isn't everyone's cup of tea, so please be warned, also bare in mind writing for Springtrap is completely new for me.

Warnings: Springtrap/william afton. Explicit non-con/rape. Violence. Threat. Themes of kidnapping.

Credit to image creator.

It was everything you expected and more.

The building reeked of lack of care, practically falling apart with all its paint peeling and the half illuminated sign. It looks creepy as fuck. That's why you came. 

You love to be scared. And this place has the potential to be truly terrifying. 

You spoke to a friend of yours who told you they'd done exactly this a week or so ago. And it was soooo much better after hours, when you can go where you want to and do what you want to; which in your case is dick around with the animatronics. They were supposed to come along as well but flaked out last minute, leaving you standing in front of the place on your lonesome. But you’re not one to be defeated by a shit friend not showing, so you’re still going to go in.

And so, with your phone torch lighting your way you go to the back of the building. And unsurprisingly you're greeted with a high fence with its gate chained closed. That isn't going to stop you though. Smirking, you throw your backpack over the fence and then slide your phone under it, torch up so you can sort of see what you're doing. 

One foot wedges in the metal, the toe of your shoe just able to fit through the diamond-shaped gap enough to give you purchase, letting you slot your other foot in the gap a little higher up. It was easy really, almost like they wanted you to hop over it, no anti-climb or spikes or anything. At the top of the fence you sit for a moment, wishing you kept hold of your phone for a photo here, illuminated by the solitary light of the building sign. Oh well, there's always the opportunity on the way out. 

You jump down, careful to land with bended knees, if you hurt yourself you wouldn’t exactly be able to call an ambulance. From there you dust yourself off for a minute and grab all your stuff, wincing when the harsh light of your phone catches your eye. 

"And now the fun begins." You whisper to yourself, as you slip around the building, quickly laying your eyes on the back door, which according to your mate was easy pickings, quite literally. Shoving your makeshift kit into the lock, it only takes a few moments of jiggling in before, hey presto, the bitch clicks open. It really was too easy. 

Inside, you flash your torch around this hallway, thinking to yourself that it looks like a 'back-stage' area with all the clutter and, god, the dust, which now flitted through the air disturbed by your movement. Honestly, with the amount of it caked on everything you wouldn’t think that this place was operational. Box after box lay on the chequered tile floor and you follow them down the corridor, checking door handles along your way. 

One opens to reveal a small cupboard filled with toilet roll and cleaning supplies. Another to one with stacks of papers, documents of some kind, probably accounts or some shit, but seriously who keeps paper copies nowadays? But the third one was the most interesting one. 

The metal door was a labour to open, scraping into the floor over a mark from others doing the same thing, the room was dark but you can tell instantly that it’s much bigger than the previous two. You use your phone torch to scan through the pitch black, revealing the jackpot. Animatronic heads are mounted on the wall like the room belongs to some kind of a  game hunter. Pointing the light down, you see the rest of the beasts, huge chest cases and clumpy-looking feet littered along the floor And in the corner the skeletons, light bouncing off them back at you, their eyes reflecting red. 

“Ho-ly shit…” You say into the darkness, grinning from ear to ear. This place was fucking insane, in the absloute best way. You waste no time inserting yourself in the room, placing huge metal heads over your shoulders and snapping a few pics looking like some demonic purple rabbit. Then some more with your arm draped over these endo-skeleton things, these took you a bit longer to build the courage to touch because fuck, their eyes were staring right into the depths of your soul. But once you did touch them and they didn’t pounce on you, you felt reassured enough to tackle anything else this creepy attraction would throw at you. 

After about ten minutes in your photoshoot, you leave the room wanting to see more than the behind the scenes stuff, you may as well see all the bits the normies get to see. Looking online earlier you knew all about the set up, creepy 80s looking corridors designed to mirror an old pizzeria chain, where apparently some kids had gone missing. Patrons could even sit inside the faux-security office taking shifts trying not to jump out of their skins as robotic creatures stalked them. Now that, you’re dying to see. 

It takes you no time to find the corridors leading to the security office, on the way discovering the dormant animatronics. One a seven foot fucking teddy bear, another a beat up looking rabbit. Golden- or maybe green, it’s hard to tell in the absence of light. This one is particularly nerve-wracking, something about its stance, it’s head tilted to the side but its eyes looking up. 

“Fuuuuck,” you giggle, angling your head to look into the creature’s mouth, open only slightly. “the designers did a good job on you, shit…” It’s only when your face gets very close to it, the robot shifts, its metallic body struggling loudly in the otherwise silent building. You flinch hard, body shoving itself away from it, thudding against the wall hard enough to wind yourself. It quickly halts, the movement dying when its head fully rears. 

You breathe out shakily, laughing at your own stupidity, clearly you triggered some kind of motion sensor and paid the price for it. You shake your head at the beast, moving away from it down the corridor and into the office, careful not to get too close to anything else that could try to scare the shit out of you. You finally manage it, and step into the office through a doorway without the actual door part, an excited smile spreading across your face. This is so fucking cool, you think, crouching down to look at a monitor on the desk, then deciding to sit in the grimy swivel chair in front of it. You then notice that the desk has drawers in it and move to look through them, an eagerly curious part of you taking over. The top one is full of a tonne of random shit sellotape, paperclips, a computer mouse and its ancient cord. The one underneath though, sticks, you rive it hard to try and open it, even more intrigued that it wouldn’t open. You jiggle it hard, the rattle echoing in the large room, but your efforts amount to fuck all and it doesnt move an inch. 

You sigh, calling the drawer a bastard under your breath and recline a little in the seat, closing your eyes for a moment. When you open them you nearly jump six feet in the air at the sight of that fucking animatronic from earlier, the yellow bunny, standing in the the doorway, it’s huge head peeking round the corner, staring directly at you. How in god’s name didn’t you hear the fucking thing move? It must weigh loads and it looks old, so there’s no way it can move silently.

“God, this place.” you say, to yourself, to the room, it doesn’t matter. You’ve had enough scares for tonight, it’s probably best if you bail before you trigger any other attractions. No longer smiling, you stand up hesitantly, moving slowly and consciously. Some kind of dread now hanging in the air because this fucking rabbit is really creepy.

You walk up to the door and carefully squeeze yourself through the gap, desperate to not touch the thing. Managing it, you outwardly sigh, that was a small mercy because some loud noise from the robot would probably give you a heart attack right now. You step away from it, ready to get yourself out of here. But the second your back is turned the most agonising sound makes you freeze. 

Breathing. Raspy, pained, human, fucking breathing. 

Your turning around is prevented by the cold grip on your throat, backing you up against its metal body, its lack of body heat making goosebumps spring over you instantly. Uselessly, you push against its hold, instinctively wanting to get away from it and the reality of what was happening. But your struggling just makes it grip you harder, thick plastic fingers tight on the base of your throat. 

A deeply coarse sound vibrates from the creature, a breathy sound that takes you a while to realise is laughter. Laughter cold and mean, making your heart hammer in your chest. “What stupid little girl snoops around in the dark on her own?” Each word sounds painful, it must take the thing sheer will to push past such agony just to taunt you.

You tremble, “What- what are you?” the words so quietly terrified you can’t believe they’re your own. There’s no way this is part of the attraction. Just no way anyone would program this to grab patrons so violently. This was something all too wrong and all too real. 

Without warning or hesitation the creature uses your throat as leverage to slam you against the wall, there’s no room for protest or struggling, it’s power is inhumanly strong. You cry out when your body hits the concrete, its unfeeling coolness stark contrast to the fretful heat coming from you. The robot’s head cranes down above yours, a subtle clicking alerting you to every slight movement. You’re winded, energy trickling down your face as tears when you’re dawned to the terrifying conclusion that you’re trapped.

It finally answers you, the raspy voice coiling your stomach in fear. “Your worst fucking nightmare.” The creature must hear you sob in response because again it- he laughs, it’s cold and mocking. Only stopping when he takes the time to parrot your desperate fearful noises back at you, making himself laugh again. It’s becoming clear to you that this must be a person, someone inside this awful thing, an employee gone rogue, trying to scare the living daylights out of people stupid enough to break in… maybe. But that voice…

“You’re hurting me.” You choke out, unsure of what you’re trying to accomplish. Internally reasoning that people have empathy and people can be talked down, you hope that he’ll let you go but it seems more and more unlikely by the second. The hand on the back of your head flexes, tangling in your hair and yanking your head upwards so you can glimpse him out of the corner of your eyes and the sight is just awful. 

The inexpressive face comes close as the man inside hisses through the rabbit mask, “You don’t know the meaning of hurt.”  

“Look,” you whimper, “I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have come here.” The words are near incomprehensible through your tears. “God, I shouldn’t have come here…” You repeat, body convulsing under the monster’s grip. Your crying is loud in the corridor, echoing off the hard floors and mirroring the heartbreaking sound back at you. You're lost in it for a couple of seconds whilst this thing seems to just enjoy the sound, before the air is knocked from your lungs by the creature’s hand trailing down the arch of your back, all the way down to your behind where he grabs a hard handful of your flesh. It’s so unexpected that you just stare at what you can see of him over your shoulder, now silently shaking. The action turns your stomach, it doesn’t hurt but it’s rough and riddled with intent. 

His other hand moves, turning you around before again shoving you to the wall and caging you in with his massive frame, using that insane strength to push you down to your knees. “No,” He almost coos, “You shouldn’t have. But don’t worry… I won’t let you go to waste.” 

Whilst you're still making sense of the words, the monster grabs itself at the waist, huge fingers prying between the metal plates and rummaging until he frees his very human and very real penis. You don't want this and the disdain is evident in your eyes, but a dark part of you thinks that to please him will make him let you go. He holds himself before you, there's no illusion even with the suit that he's huge and the thought scares you.

The metallic hand in your hair pulls your head towards him and you obey, fear making you compliant. He smears himself against your lips, precum already leaking from his tip and laying warm on your face. He doesn't have to tell you to open your mouth, the rough tilting of your head is enough, and you hesitantly part your lips, flinching when he yanks you towards him. Your eyes involuntarily close when he shoves his cock in your mouth, he doesn't hold back, pushing himself as far in your throat as he can before you gag, your hands frenzied grabbing at the creature's hips. He pulls back for a moment before shoving back in repeatedly, forcing your jaw open to accept him each time. 

He grunts, burying himself inside your throat and holding you still. "You'll have to do better than that, if you're scared of me hurting you." The snarl in his voice makes your eyes wide with realisation of what he wants. You obey without question, hollowing your cheeks and sucking him as good as you can, his grip relenting enough to let you. Swirling your tongue on the underside of his shaft with only the goal of getting this over with as soon as possible. It’s like he knows and the huge hand in your hair slows your movement, forcing you to take him slow and deep, revelling in the feeling of your hot mouth and the frantic way your eyes dart around. 

The salty taste of his big cock stirs you, and each time he uses your mouth it makes your heat betray the pain of his brutal hold. It’s instinctual and even though your mind is against it your body is reacting. Trying to push the conflicting feelings from your mind you continue sucking, an eagerness spurring you on when he groans, he’s close, you can tell from the leniency in his grip. But just as you’re getting your hopes up that he’s going to finish, he pulls your lips from him, making you look up at the terrifying form above you. The sudden dread that sizzles through you is inexplicable, it’s almost as though you forgot how horrifying this costume was and the reminder shocks your core. 

You look so frightened kneeling there, your pupils tiny and your lips still parted, saliva dripping down your chin that underneath the mask he smirks cruelly, the action painful enough to make his cock twitch. With how warm and slick your mouth was, he can only imagine how tight your little cunt is going to be, fuck it’s been so long since he last broke a pretty thing like you. He’s going to savour it. 

“Stand up.” The monster commands, the raspy voice insanely harsh. You obey without question your legs trembling as all trace of hope leaves you, all chance of this ending any time soon trickled between your legs. As soon as you reach your feet his large hand grabs your shoulder shoving you forwards, back towards that old guard’s office you left only minutes ago, but it felt like years. Stumbling through the doorway, the brief idea of running flashes through your mind, but you’re too scared, you don’t want to make what this man was going to do worse. 

You don’t have the chance anyway, with crazy strength he catches your arm, forcing your body down onto the desk in front of you. A pathetic whimper leaves your lips at the rough action, your whole body still shaking. Once he has you where he wants you, the creature’s huge hands rake over your body, no gentleness or intimacy in his touch, just pure malicious lust. He gabs at your breasts, fingers digging harshly into the sensitive skin, then roughly pulling up the fabric of your shirt, so roughly the material tears. You’d be cold if not for the raging adrenaline in your veins. At the sight of your naked torso the mascot bears down on you, no emotion in its dead eyes, “Such a stupid girl, coming here, getting yourself in trouble. Is this what you wanted, huh?” To punctuate the question he takes hold of your face, squeezing your cheeks so that you let out a shaky gasp. 

You wrap your fingers around his wrist, pulling against the hold that was making your teeth hurt, but he doesn’t move an inch. At your silence he grabs your left tit pinching your nipple so hard your body raises from the desk to try and escape it. “Huh?” He snarls again. And you try to shake your head, but with no way to move you’re forced to speak. 

“No-o.” Your voice cracks, your answer making the creature above you grind his cock against your thigh, the godforsaken suit preventing him from touching himself, his own unique fucking torture. His mocking spurs a sudden surge of fight  and sees your legs rise and kick hard at his chest, the dull thud of striking metal echoing in the dark room. It’s useless, and his laughing is only proof. He holds your legs against his chest with one hand, using the other to tug down your legging and the panties you were wearing underneath, taking them completely from your body and discarding them on the dirty floor. 

Looking down at your wet cunt he near growls, such a slick little fucktoy that walked right into his grasp. Cold metallic fingers trace over your entrance, pulling your folds apart to see the trembling of your hole, your unwanted wetness coating his fingers. You hate yourself for being aroused but maybe it’s for the best, maybe it’ll make this more bearable. You quiver when his digit pokes inside you the costume fingers large enough to stretch you open when he sinks in, you groan the invasion pressing against a coil in your core. Seeing how your pussy swallowed his finger so well, tight around him when he fucked it in and out made him pull away, needing his hands to hold your thighs down as he rubbed the head of his dick against your entrance. Desperate to feel the grip of your walls on one of the only parts of him that remained intact. 

He shoves into you roughly, forcing your walls to accept him, all air in your lungs leaving in a suffered groan. He’s thick and long and pushing to the hilt you feel more than full, like he was taking you over, touching all of you at once. The stretch burned but the pain quickly dulled when he began rutting into you, a selfishly brutal pace that had you helplessly gasping. He fucks you as deep as the suit will allow him, the waist of the costume slamming into your hips so hard the desk thudded against the floor. 

It’s like you’re outside of your body looking at the scene, feeling his hands move to lift your body from the desk, holding you and manipulating the angle of his pounding to suit him. Shoving into the part of you that makes you scream and your juices spill around the base of his cock. It doesn't feel real, but at the same time is brutally so an unwilling pleasure seizing hold of you and making you clench around his length. He groans,not stopping his pace as you begin to flutter around him, what a filthy fucking thing you are to enjoy this, he thinks, the thought making him fuck you harder. Forceful thrusts that quickly beginning to stutter as the monster nears his end, bursting inside you like an animal and stuffing you full of him. You’re dirty, used and broken, letting the cum seep around him, dripping down onto the desk. 

He holds you still for what feels like hours before dropping you down onto the slick tabletop, leaving you to crumple on the floor. There’s no coherent thoughts in your mind, just a frightening emptiness as you get to your knees and crawl over to where he threw your clothes, hands shaking as you try to gather them up. He chuckles at your form, bruises already beginning to show on your hips and thighs, before slowly walking to you, a cold metal foot shoving you over, your body thudding into the floor. 

“Now, where do you think you’re going?”

A/n: Here it is. My second Hallowe'en event, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed. I know this is very different to the kind of thing I usually write, but heck, why not try something new. X

Stay tuned for my third fic!

[naffeclipse]

A Gesture Returned

Reader x Orca!Eclipse

Commission Info

I had so much fun writing this request by the sweet @rinzydings who wanted a Y/N reuniting with Eclipse, and bearing a very important gift (and confession)! Their Y/N is so sweet and I loved combining their character with Eclipse's. There is so much sweetness and fluff! Which is must deserved after all they've both been through. I hope you enjoy! <3

———

The gray base is stark against the icy expanse of the north pole. A structure long since frozen into its foundation and left almost lost in the piercing wind and swirling snowflakes, you glance backward at it once before leaving it behind. 

It’s been a year since you first met the orca siren. You saw him in between that time in the mild temperatures of spring, where the negative degrees weren’t as bitter with its touch and the sun rose and fell in time with a full, proper day. Now you have returned once again in autumn, in the aftermath of a summer full of endless sunlight. 

Of course, you kept busy. Other destinations called out to you, and you felt yourself rushed to find the last of the places on your must-see list to ensure you would not go without. Pictures platter the inside of your computer of beautiful landscapes beside tropical seas and sprawling cliffs.

Slowly, your gloved hand falls into your inner pocket. Touching over the thickness of your coat, you remind yourself that your gift is still there. It’s waiting for the recipient. 

Michael and Vanessa know your intentions. After a whole year of adjusting to your relationship with Eclipse, they are easing into the thought of you growing close with a siren that was once out of the realm of nightmares for them. They no longer fear for you like they once did. Your dear Eclipse and your sweet friends share far more in common than they once believed.

Your decision sits heavy on your heart—not with dread or anxiety—but with eagerness. A want to fling it out into the world and cause it to rear into realization runs through you. You dearly hope you may relieve yourself of this tension very soon.  

Eclipse is out there, somewhere. He must have caught sight of the helicopter approaching. 

You’ve learned much about Eclipse’s life and culture that you’ve gathered in your short bursts of seeing him. Courting gifts and becoming mates are important. You understand now what exactly it means to belong to him, and for him to belong to you.

For so long, he has waited in the icy waters alone. His family was dragged up in nets and gutted with spears by a horrible, wicked man named William Afton. He grew up with no kindness, warmth, or guidance. You couldn’t fault him for the tragedy that befell him, but you did grow fearful after he stole you away the first time and changed you against your will. 

Now you’ve had time to understand him. You watched him let you go, and you returned to find him waiting with open arms. 

Your gloved fingers roam over the irregular and smooth shapes of the gift you come bearing. He gave you so much. There’s something you want to give him in return. 

Vanessa and Michael might not understand everything between you and Eclipse, but they support you. 

You choose Eclipse.

Leaving the base behind, you waddle—ever the bird in Eclipse’s eye—across the frozen layers of ice that make up the great Arctic. You do not wander for long before the sea spreads dark and blue beside you. The sharp contrast of pale snow and choppy, deep waters overwhelms your sharp eye for images to capture.

You have many pictures of the ocean. Each one uses the light and angle to capture a swell of waves, the same as you experience a great rise of emotion, searching for your mate.

Emerging from the depths with a striking arch of his lithe and powerful body, Eclipse lifts his head above the sea. His stunning dorsal fin strikes high into the air, burning red and orange before melting into the lovely pattern of black and white upon his body. Even at this distance, you see his mouth full of teeth spreading into a grin.

A soft sound carries over the waves. A song of welcome. You close your eyes briefly to truly catch the sound of Eclipse’s voice over the Arctic wind and splashing waves.

You hold up your hand and wave, at last breaking into a trot as best as you can. Avoiding a dreadful plunge on the slick ground, you trek to the edge of the water. Eclipse dives down. Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Eclipse!” You call as you drop to your knees beside the water. “Eclipse, I’m here!”

You lean over the slushy tide, mixing with shards of ice and blue-gray water, only to be greeted by a crescent mark face of black and white. Eclipse thrusts himself beside you, pushing onto the ice with an impressive flick of his tail. His impressive size easily dwarfs you. Minding the droplets flinging off of his sheeny body, he drapes himself along the ground before you in a dramatic presentation. 

“Birdie,” Eclipse rumbles deeply. A flare of deep joy overtakes his red and yellow eyes. His grin remains wide, and it is painful to wait for his hands to dry enough before he takes you by the arms and engulfs you in his presence. “You came back.”

“I said I would,” you answer softly. 

“You did.” He turns his face down, and with delicate effort, pushes your goggles carefully up your face. The bitter sting of the frigid air rushes your skin. To combat the dangerous cold, Eclipse captures you in a full-face nuzzle.

You softly sigh under the tender but deep fussing of his flat nose against you. He moves over you, going from cheek to cheek and even tucking himself under your chin for a moment, uncaring that your wool scarf gets in the way. His tongue slips out from between his lips to lick at your jawline. You resist a ticklish twitch, and instead, anchor him for a moment against you. Closing your eyes, you return the gesture and lay yourself entirely against his face. 

For one precious moment, Eclipse warms you.

Then he kisses you on the nose. You laugh once in quiet surprise. 

“Let me see you,” he whispers.

You hold still, your eyes squinting against the brightness of the sun shining over Eclipse as if he were waxed and polished. His body never ceases to amaze you.

Gently, he takes your hood and pushes it back. The cold quickly swirls over your head. As you learned before your first trip to the icy land, the head loses the most heat from the human body, and that is why it’s important to keep it covered.

Eclipse tenderly lifts his hand and runs his clawed fingers through your short hair. When you first met, he admired your dark strands with the blond streak you dyed into it, straight down the middle. He admired you in the way one would admire an exotic bird.

“Handsome,” he murmurs. “I missed your strange fur.”

“Hair,” you correct with a smile.

“Hair,” he echoes, before kissing the crown of your head. He reaffixes your hood over you before settling his arms over your legs and holding your gaze. “Tell me about your travels, birdie.”

You need not wait for another invitation. It’s not often you get the opportunity to ramble about your photography, but Eclipse always lends a listening ear. You’ve learned how genuine he is, as curious as you are, and just as insatiable for new, beautiful things. 

First, you tell him about Ocracoke Island. It is not the most exotic land you’ve traveled to, but it is nonetheless abundant with stunning seashells and a lively beach filled with yellow sands and green waters. Then you traveled to Shell Beach in the Australian winter. Awe Striking scenery fueled your photograph as the pale beach glistened to tiny, white shells beside an ever-endless blue sea. Then you traveled to Jeffreys Bay. The water is most gorgeous there, a pale blue-gray with rich seafoam flooding over an entire shoreline worth of shells. 

He doesn’t ask, but it’s clear that you favor tropical and seaside environments during the last six months of your travels. Eclipse has many questions when you talk of such places, such as the creatures there or what you enjoy most about visiting such environments. He draws his claws softly over your gloved hands as you continue to speak. 

Truly, he gives his full attention. Though his eyes may wander over your small fingertips or short stature, he is no less aware of what you spill from your lips.

As you finish telling him of carefully walking along Jeffreys Bay, you gently free your hand from his grasp. His eyes flare for a moment. His claws flex, watching hungrily as you reach into the inside of your coat and withdraw the most precious gift you are about to give.

“I have something for you,” you start softly, your fist curled over the offering, “It would mean so much to me if you accepted it.”

Eclipse tilts his head down, eyes crinkled in curiosity. The shine of his burning red frills catches on the sunlight. You swallow down your heart. Carefully unfurling your fingers, you present Eclipse with a courting gesture.

Laid upon your hand is a cord of strung seashells. Tiny, spiraling, and flat shells clink softly together to form a gradient of deep red, burnt orange, periwinkle, soft baby blue, and pure frost. Six months you spent finding the precise colors. The ones of Eclipse, and the ones that were on your tail when he had changed you into a siren. Those cool, soft colors never quite left your head.

Neither has Eclipse left your heart.

The gravity of the gesture is not lost on you as you study Eclipse’s wide eyes and gaped mouth. He reaches out as if handling thin ice, and strokes the shells with his clawed fingertips. The seashells are tiny but solid. A musical clink echoes at Eclipse’s brush of his hand, and he lifts his eyes.

“I accept,” he answers in a low, powerful voice.

Your entire being flutters, warm and reassured.

“May I?” you ask softly, lifting the cord and carefully taking the ends. “It’s meant to be worn… if you want to wear it.”

“Birdie, I desire nothing more than to display your gift on my body.” His declaration sends a sweeping heat into your cheeks. 

“Your hand,” you say, your eyes filling with misty tears.

He obeys, offering his arm. You level him out to expose his wrist. Slipping the bracelet of seashells around the sinew-packed bones, you deftly tie it and ensure the cord will not unravel anytime soon. 

“You gave me many gifts during our courtship,” you say deliberately. You lean back to admire it upon his wrist. “I wanted to return the gesture in kind.”

His hand clenched as if to contain emotion within his fist. He holds his hand and twists it this way and that, watching the seashells swing slightly against his shiny skin.

“This means much to me, birdie,” Eclipse lowers his gaze at last to you. His chest puffs up with pride. The glow in his gaze is as soft as candlelight. “I will treasure it.”

“I’m glad…” you say, holding back something behind your tongue that stings and causes your entire body to squirm.

In the moment your eyes dart away from him, heavy with words you can’t yet dislodge, a claw curls carefully under your chin. A spark fires in your chest. Gently but firmly, Eclipse lifts your head to look deep into your eyes. His constant grin thins into concern.

“What is troubling you?”

Your throat bobs softly. His eyes dart once to your gift before returning to you, and for a moment, a shine of fear returns to his gaze. The same as when you told him you had to leave the very first time.

You answer quickly but softly, “I’ve never stopped thinking of you, and I've never stopped caring for you, Eclipse.”

His expression softens like the sky in the morning after a wicked blizzard. His claw carefully draws along your bottom lip.

“My little siren,” he rumbles, but there’s a hint of melancholy in the endearment. “How precious you are.”

“I've come to a decision.” A fluttering erupts within you, and you slowly reach out to hold tight to his arm. “Eclipse, I want to stay with you.

You watch in both awe and whirling emotion as Eclipse is struck dumb. His jaw drops. His eyes flare wide open. His touch upon you slackens as if he were about to slip back into the water in his stupor, but instead, he looks at you as if seeing you again for the first time.

A fist squeezes your heart, and you forget to breathe. Is it too late? Does he still want to have you?

“I’m… I’m…” The apology fumbles on your tongue as you try to turn away, but Eclipse grabs you tighter, stopping you in your tracks.

Then you feel the tremors in his hand. Ripples of emotion take over his strong and sleek body, falling down his shoulders and into the very flukes of his tail. His eyes burn deeply.

“You will stay with me?” he asks, caught somewhere between disbelief and wonder. “Truly, birdie?”

“Yes,” your voice almost cracks. “I love you. I want to be with you as a siren.”

Saying the words frees something within you. The pulse pounding in your ears calms. Eclipse’s hand upon your chin softens into a tender touch. He leans very close. In a gentle brush of his sea-salt-tinged lips, he kisses you deeply. His fervor almost pushes you back, but his arms wrap around and hold you perfectly in place.

He breaks the kiss softly. 

“I love you, my mate.” He tilts your head softly as he nuzzles your cheek. “When you are ready, I will take you into the water.

Your heart sways within you. It is difficult to not recall how frigid and consuming the Arctic is, and the panic you felt underneath the water. But this is different.

He loves you truly. He let you go, and you step back willingly into his arms. 

“I will make it quick, birdie,” he whispers, “I am yours eternally.”

You smile before caressing his face, touching the corner of his mouth, and feeling the slipperiness of his black and white skin. 

“And I’m yours,” you smile.

With gentle reverence, Eclipse helps you undress. You urge him to hurry once the cold begins to attack your skin. Mentally, you must brace yourself once more for the cold of the water. Eclipse cradles you close against his body as you shiver violently in the sub-zero temperatures.

He bows over you, and with a conjuring of a song from deep within his chest, magic fills the air with the force of thunderous waves. It fills you as he presses his lips to your mouth, and together, you slip under the surface. 

Your courting gift of seashells sways around his wrist in the water.

The power of his magic takes you gently out of a world of footsteps and leg strides and into a body fit for cutting through storms and sailing through seas. The colors upon your fluke tips are the same as you remember. This time, you allow him to remove the last of your clothing. Completely bare, transformed, and magically thriving, you are reborn.

He embraces you. The length of his tail easily surpasses your own, and you are held safe as he kisses you within the frozen brine.

[mcondance]

hush baby. william afton. (allusions to daddy issues, general old william using / taking advantage of young reader yk the drill)

william fucks like his age. he fucks like a man who knows what he wants from years of getting. he will get what he wants from you, too.

he drains you of everything you can give him and then, he pushes for more, craving complete control of every thing you feel. its why he picked you, could just see you ending up like this, a slut for his taking, nasty and open to the filthiest things he’s only ever dreamed about.

it’s sad, what you went through to end up like it like this, used and shown no respect in your most vulnerable state, but he pays it no mind when he’s driving into you from behind, towering over your body and stretching your cunt to its limit.

amusement is written over his hardened face, the hilarity of what you allow him to do to you overtakes him as he watches himself breach your entrance over and over again, your cunt having to work to take him like your body knows this is wrong.

but it lets him in, you let him in like it’s right, wince through the pain until it turns to pleasure and he’s battering your pussy with no regard for the pain that’ll resurface the next day.

pain is how he got you, tucked away in your brain, steering you toward a man like him. and pain is how he keeps you, the dull ache of his cock abusing your pussy, the digging of his fingers tucked between where your thighs and tummy meet, the stimulation sending sparks shooting through you.

you’re so nasty when you’ve got a nastier man inside you, when his want to unwind you and use you is reciprocated. drooling on his bed sheets, leaking on his cock, the perverted desire of his heart is realized.

he’s got you singing, speared on his cock and taking it so well. he fucks you like he’ll throw you out tomorrow and you welcome it, soak his cock every time your mind registers the brutishness behind his thrusts, every time he manhandles that spot inside you.

your fingers curl around the column of his headboard, clamping down on them to award yourself some semblance of grounding but it’s in vain, he’s too ruthless and horrific, fucks you too deep with every sob he retches out of your raw throat.

you let him do what he wants, and that’s exactly what he does. you’re all wet cunt and choked moans, a test subject for his disregarded boundaries. his boundaries are your boundaries, the wires crossed and fused incorrectly a perfect path for his will to become reality.

he’s taking advantage of you, it’s what you both know, know what business a man his age has with a girl yours.

but being taken advantage of is how you like it.

every push into you is meant to to hurt, to make those crossed wires fizzle and spark with satisfaction. maybe it doesn’t count as being used if it’s what you want, too. it’s lost in translation, by now, only left with william fucking you exactly how you’d expect him to, how you fantasized about from the moment you saw him.

he’s thankful to have someone like you, someone who’ll let him push and poke and prod and mold into his. he goes crazy every time you bite and choke on your moans, every time you huff and rasp like he’s wounded you but make no move to run from him or to stop. he likes it filthy, and in you, he can have that whenever he wants. he can be what you need, if you let him have you in return. you do let him have you.

you say his name like a prayer, choked and battered and begging for him to twist and turn you inside out just like he wants to. willing to be used, to be fucked dumb and brash.

you like it like this, domination has revealed you as a drooling, moaning, vile mess. it lay dormant, waiting for someone to draw it out. waiting for william to lay you bare and new.

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒

ㅤㅤghostface!mike schmidt x afton daughter!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, dark content, ghostface au

word count: 4.5k

summary: how were you supposed to know one of your closest friends was also the one in desperate need for revenge?

warnings: dubcon (this can also be considered noncon to some since there's the fear of death in place so if that's not your thing please don't read), knife use, manipulation, voyeurism but no one actually sees, daddy kink, piv, blowjob, nonconsensual somnophilia, male masturbation, reader doesn't know what william did, dirty talking, creampie

a/n: a day late but happy thanksgiving everyone 🖤 i am thankful for my josh hutcherson phase (normally I was going to post this yesterday but oh well you get it)

**dividers made by @saradika xx

How long has it been since you came here? How long has it been since you witnessed the clean beige exterior that now looked more suffocating than liberating? 

You observe the dust over the picture frames as you drop the suitcases, the sudden release of weight making your back bend back like a bow. You stare for a while. Your dad had bought this particular vacation home ages ago. Ironically he had done it so the family could spend some quality time together over the summers. That was before the incident. Before your mom left, only leaving you and him. 

Now the dirt outside was muddy from the pouring rain. Leaves turning to mush under the pressure of tires and boots. You hear the faint sound of the car door closing. Moments later Mike stands behind you. You can feel his breath tickling the back of your neck. It soothes you. 

“So this is the famous summer house huh?” he looks around, not bothering to close the door behind him, he takes a step further. “God, it’s cold in here. Please tell me there’s a heater somewhere.” 

“Probably in the basement. Remind you this place wasn’t meant for winter.” 

“Yeah I can see that from the windows,” he turns and finally closes the door. “It’s a bit eerie that anyone might just watch us from down there.” 

You scoff, “Who’s gonna watch? This house is the only one. Besides it’s just a couple days.” 

Your dad was finally selling the place. Meaning you had limited time to pack the things you wanted to keep before the rest was torn out. You knew packing all the old pictures would be overwhelming so you asked Mike to join and he was more than eager to help out—which was a bit surprising but you were grateful nonetheless. He was always kind to you. Always so gentle. He made your heart jump whenever he looked into your eyes, observing, searching them for something more. You never knew what he was searching for. 

Mike walks ahead with just his backpack, he’s wearing all black: black hoodie, black pants, black jacket. . . he’s completely contrasting his surroundings. He turns to you with rounded eyes and you melt a little. 

“So where am I staying?” 

“Let me show you,” It’s odd being in the halls again, you remember them feeling endless when you were a kid. The floor underneath you creaks. “Luckily we have a bunch of rooms. I don’t know what my parents were thinking, it’s not like we entertained a lot of guests.” 

“Well, it worked out in the end. Now I have a place to say.” 

“Silver lining,” you agree, showing his room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to head to bed and we can brainstorm where to start in the morning.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he steps inside the room and you can’t help but be reminded of how out of place he looks. “Good night.” 

“Good night, Mike.” 

He stands at the door with furrowed brows and downturned lips. Not that it’s important what his expression is. It’s not like anyone can see it underneath his mask. The mask that he’d bought last second. It is now or never. And this is his chance to avenge his brother, his broken family. This is the solution to all of it. 

It doesn’t help that you’re soundly sleeping. Your lips slightly parted, more skin showing with each rise and fall of your chest. Mike takes a step further inside. The wind howls against the naked windows. Yet, your room managed to stay warm. You turn around to lay on your back and he sees you parting your legs underneath the comforter. His cock grows hard at the sight, he’d love to take you right now. Fuck you until you gasp awake, your sweet cunt dripping with arousal—you’d tell him to stop, not recognizing who he is and he’d go on until you’re creaming around him. Your body becoming sweaty and warm. 

Mike licks his lips and rubs a palm over the outline of his cock. His eyes search your room. You hadn’t unpacked yet. Your suitcase open with clothes pouring out the edges. You probably just picked that flimsy shirt you were wearing and headed to bed. He slowly walks to the pile of clothes, within, he finds a pair of black lace underwear. Mike picks it up. A gloved thumb follows the patterns of delicate flowers. His lips curl upward, just what you were planning on doing with him here? In your old family home where it’s just the two of you?

He stands at the edge of your bed. He’s amazed at how much he can get away with without waking you. It’s amazing how much you trust him without a second thought. 

Too bad he doesn’t trust you. 

With your panties, he fists his cock, the fabric catches against the head prompting the jerk of his hips. He strokes himself fast and hard. Precome seeping into the delicate fabric. His eyes are glued to your lips, the pacing of your breath, your body that’s sprawled underneath the sheets. His cock twitches. Balls tightening as he imagines the sounds you would make for him with a knife against your throat and him deep inside your cunt. 

The smallest of groans manage to escape him as he spills into his fist and the fabric, thick ropes of come staining your panties, he inches closer. Hips stuttering helplessly while wishing to see himself dirty your pretty parted lips. He knows he will soon enough. He sees the way you look at him, how desperate you are for affection and a sense of belonging. Mike enjoys the sense of control he has over you. It makes it all that much more sweeter. 

He’ll take you. Break you. And pull you back together again. 

He’ll ruin William Afton’s precious little girl. 

You’re blessed with a little bit of sun today. Bits of dust sway in the air, boxes upon boxes standing around you and Mike. Two empty coffee cups lay idly on the floor. You slept like a baby last night, which was something you hadn’t expected, yet when you woke up you felt a bit off. Your door was open for starters. And you definitely remember closing it. Mike had just shrugged it off, saying that you were tired and probably forgot. 

Which is likely, now that you think about it. 

Mike picks up one of the framed photos of you and your dad. Despite the sunlight filling the living room, a chill settles over your skin. He observes the photo longer than necessary. Then he traces the engraved name underneath the picture. 

“Afton,” he murmurs. “I keep forgetting you’re an Afton.” 

He doesn’t let go of the picture as his eyes meet yours, you don’t like the look in them. He almost seems angry. 

“What does it matter?” you say in a sheer tone. “It’s not like it means anything whether I’m an Afton or not.” 

“I’d beg the differ. And I know some other people would too.” 

Mike places the photo in a box, eyes dropping to the floor. Heat rises to your cheeks. You’re confused. Very confused. “Are talking about Freddy Fazbear’s? You know I don’t like talking about that Mike.” 

“No need to get defensive. I’m just saying that your surname isn’t nothing,” he gives you a small smile but it does little to calm your nerves. “You were never suspicious of him?” 

“Of what?” 

He gives you a blank stare, “Of the murders.” 

Your mouth opens and very promptly snaps shut. Mike was never interested in this before. He hadn’t even asked about it, not once. Your shoulders drop and your heart feels heavy in your chest—Were you ever suspicious of him? Of your own father? To be fair you never thought about it. You shut your eyes and plugged your ears. You never wanted to think about that wretched pizzeria and all the things that happened in it. 

Your stomach jumps when he reaches out, curling his palm over the slope of your knee. You release a long breath. 

“Sorry for bringing it up,” he says, his eyes now soft. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“That’s okay.” It wasn’t. You get up, feeling the weight of his gaze as you do. “Alright, I think I’m gonna take a brisk shower then we can make pasta or something.” 

“I can start on that,” he answers. “Pesto or marinara?” 

“You can pick. I’m fine with either.” 

He nods and you leave before he stands. You feel icky all over. The dust and the sudden reality check about your father’s pizzeria and his role in all that had happened make you desperate to scrub yourself clean. 

You swiftly enter the bathroom, shutting the door behind you, giving it a hard shove until you hear the satisfying click. The inside smells of lavender. 

You strip and throw your clothes into the washing machine. The water warms up easily when you step inside. You draw the curtain shut and sigh at the clean water caressing your skin. Warm showers are the solution to everything. Even daddy issues. You begin to wash your hair, a soft moan dropping from your lips as you massage your scalp. The water trickles down your neck and between your breasts. With soapy hands, you give yourself a firm squeeze and graze your thumbs over the pebbled nipples. 

“That’s nice,” you sigh, hands moving up to rinse your hair. Maybe after the shower you can lay down and treat yourself until lunch is ready. Your vibrator’s fully charged, and the prospect of Mike hearing the faint buzz of it makes your pussy throb. 

Just as you reach for the loofah a soft click echoes in the steamy room. 

Your body tenses. Your heart suddenly beating a mile a minute. 

Your eyes turn in the direction of the door but you can’t see well with the curtain. All you see is the blurry darkness of the hall thanks to the open entrance. “Mike?” you call out, voice trembling. “If that’s you it’s not funny.” 

Of course, it’s not him. Even from here, you can smell the pasta sauce. Pesto. You desperately search for any kind of weapon you can use but all you see are shampoo bottles and the loofah you’re currently holding. You swallow. Turning back to the curtain, you see a faint shadow. It tilts its head. 

You need to attack. Need to do something before they do. How did they even get in here? 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. 

But you’re frozen with fear as the stranger curls their fingers around the shower curtain. The rest happens suddenly. The curtain is ripped open and you see who it is—Mostly. You see the mask, two pitch-black eyes staring back at you. Instead of screaming you jump away, the porcelain slips from underneath you, you fall and as soon as you do, you’re swallowed by darkness. 

Your eyes flutter open. There’s a sharp sting against your forehead. 

“Thank god you’re awake.” 

“M—Mike?” 

Your vision stops shaking and you finally see him. Mike, and his two soft brown eyes staring down at you. He’s holding a ball of cotton, the white stained by a bit of red. “What. . .” You attempt to get up but quickly forgo your decision when your head throbs. Mike clicks his tongue and presses the cotton to your head, your eyes tear up as it stings, but it slightly subsides seconds later. Looking down, you notice a towel was thrown over you. 

“I should be asking you that, how the hell did you slip?” 

“I. . . I didn’t.” 

“What do you mean you didn’t?” 

“There. . there was someone in the shower,” Your blood freezes as you remember. “He. . .I think it was a he? He was wearing a mask and he opened the curtain and fuck—I was so scared Mike.” 

Your arms move on their own and wrap around his neck, pulling him close. It takes him only a second to mimic your movement, wrapping his arms around your cold shivering body. His fingers trace your spine. A pleasant shiver runs up your back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you now,” he murmurs. “But. . . the door was closed.” 

What? “What?” You shake your head as you pull away from him, ignoring the towel slightly sliding lower. “There’s no way. How did you see me then?” 

“Well, I shouted for you but you didn’t respond. Then I knocked and you didn’t respond again. The door wasn’t locked so I let myself in.” 

“And you found me unconscious? No one was here?” 

“Only you.” 

You shudder. That’s absolutely terrifying. 

“Come on let’s. . .” he swallows and you notice his eyes lingering where your towel has fallen. The swell of your breasts exposed. Looking away, you pull the fabric up and properly wrap it around yourself. His eyes move up to meet your gaze. “Let’s get you dressed and then we can eat.” 

Your last night here. Finally. 

After the unfortunate fall in the shower, you never managed to shake the feeling of being watched in your own house. You didn’t say anything to Mike but you knew he saw how freaked out you were from your eyes, by the way you would jump at every sound. Every time you closed your eyes you saw the stranger’s mask—those damn black sockets and open mouth staring back at you. It didn’t help that every morning you found your door wide open. You could’ve sworn that you closed it. But without fail, the door was open in the morning. 

And you’re so grateful to be done with it all. 

Stacks of boxes stand tall near the door. You were adamant about having everything ready tonight so that as soon as the sun peaked through the two of you could leave. Which was why you had ordered Mike to pack his suitcase— you’re doing the same, folding clothes with shaky hands and hoping the morning would come faster. 

Throwing your shirt into the suitcase your brows furrow, “What the hell?” you murmur as you lower yourself to your knees. The drawers and closet are emptied out, so why the hell do you only have three pairs of underwear? 

Sweat beads at your forehead. With panic, you rummage through the neatly folded clothes. You don’t care about the mess or the fact that you’ll have to fold them again—why can’t you find the other pairs? 

You’re completely defeated as your entire body deflates. Just three. You remember packing ten. They’re gone. All gone. Stolen. 

Your heart lurches and you feel it beating in your throat. You want to leave. You want to leave. You want to leave. 

The phone rings. 

It’s loud and booming. Your eyes shot towards the hallway. It’s the landline. A phone that hadn’t been used for god knows how long. You weren’t even aware that it was still connected. 

You blink rapidly, forcing the sting of tears to fade. You stand on shaky legs as you head towards the phone in the living room. You vaguely hear Mike mumbling a melody that’s familiar but also not at the same time. 

You stare at your reflection in the widows as you pick up the phone. Normally you’d appreciate the view. The dark sky, the swaying pine trees. But not today. 

You clear your throat, “H—Hello?” 

You hear a faint static, a low internal breathing, then the silence talks back, saying your name. You shudder at the rasp in his voice, fear weighing you down and gluing you to the floor. “Who is this?” you ask. 

“You know who I am,” he murmurs and takes a deep inhale. “We’ve met before remember? That moment in the bathroom.” Your body freezes all over, he chuckles, then speaks as if reminiscing a fond memory. “You looked so amazing. Nipples hard, body wet. Were you touching yourself?” 

You remain silent, eyes glued to the hall that is lit by Mike’s room. You want to call out. You really do. But you’re terrified. 

“Was it him you were thinking about?” 

“That’s. . .” you swallow. “That’s none of your business.” 

“Everything you do is my business,” he snaps but then the harsh baritone of his voice quickly softens. “Fine. Don’t. I know the answer anyway.” 

“What do you want?” 

“I want the truth, Miss Afton.” Your breath catches, your knees begin to shake. “Just answer my question and maybe you won’t die.” 

You remain silent and you hear the smile in his voice, “Good girl. Now, do you know your father is a murderous piece of trash? Yes or no?” 

You close your eyes, shake your head, you can’t answer. “Fine,” he huffs. “Do you think you deserve to live?” 

“I. . .” Your mouth goes dry and your fingers tighten around the phone. “I do.” 

Honestly, you’re not sure if you believe that. 

“Oh, I’m sorry but that’s just not correct,” he answers with a melodic lilt. “You don’t deserve anything. Why should your life matter more than the other kids that were killed by your father?” 

“It shouldn’t.” 

Your voice barely comes out in a whisper now. Your eyes drop to the floor, maybe if you run and get to Mike in time you can save you both? 

“Is your dad a killer yes or no?” then he adds. “You better answer correctly this time.” 

“I don’t know,” you say this time, he clicks his tongue in annoyance. 

“Wrong.” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath you open them again. All you see is your reflection. “I’ve been watching you,” he says. “You sleep like a log. I watched you. Fucked my fist while you were sleeping soundly, dreaming of sunshine and rainbows,” he sighs. “Or whatever the fuck girls like you dream about.”

You’re appalled by the sudden gush of wetness that courses through you. You shake your head, trying to push the images away. “Please don’t do this,” you beg. 

He stops speaking for a good while, for a second you think he hung up, but then you hear his breath in your ear and know that he’s still there. “I keep forgetting.” 

“Forgetting what?” 

“That you’re an Afton.” 

Your heart drops to the pits of your stomach. Every fiber of skin burning and tingling with the realization. You’ve heard those words before. You’ve heard the hidden accusation in them. Your ear burns from the phone pressed against it, you press it harder, not wanting to miss a second of dialogue. Your lips brush against the plastic as you do. 

“Mike?”

The line goes dead. Silent. And you realize you preferred words coming from the other line. Tortorously slow, as if in a dream, you place the phone back in its cradle. You feel him before you see him. Your head turns. You feel every muscle pulling as you do. 

And there he is. 

The man with the mask. 

“Mike?” you say again with less conviction. He tilts his head, not moving, not saying anything. Your body stiffens and your eyes drop to his hands where you see the sharp edge of a knife. You drag your gaze back to the mask, hoping that you’re staring into his eyes, “Why?” 

He takes a step forward and you take a step back. You’re inches away from the wide windows. “I had a brother,” he says, you’re surprised to find yourself relaxing upon hearing his voice. “I’ve tracked down the suspects. Looked at similar cases for years. Every bit of information leads to Afton.” 

“I had nothing to do with it.” 

Another step. The glass is cool underneath your palms. 

“You father did,” he answers. He stands only an inch away now, your stomach jumps when he presses the sharp edge of the knife against your neck. You hold your breath. “The day he took him is the day I lost everything. My family shattered. All because of him. And now. . .” Mike presses the knife harder, a hint of pain blossoming from where he’d cut. Your eyes snap shut. “Now I’ll take his little girl. Eye for an eye.” 

“Mike, please,” you whisper. Then you say something that surprises you both. “Take off the mask. If I’m going to die, I want to see you.” 

He tenses but obliges anyway. The mask falls to the floor, his hair mussed, soft curls fall over his forehead. A bit of stubble on his chin from not shaving at all since you two arrived. He doesn’t look scary, not at all. He looks vengeful, yes, but the softness in his eyes is still there. 

“What are you going to do to me?” 

Mike’s nostrils flare as he inhales, he exhales through parts lips, you feel his warm breath on your skin. “I’m going to ruin you.” The knife is replaced with his hand, he squeezes your throat, pulls you away from the glass, and slams you into it. “You’re mine now. I own you.” 

You shudder as he lets you go, his hands fumble with his jeans, and the fabric pools at his ankles. “Get on your knees and suck daddy’s cock.” 

You stare at him, wide-eyed but do as you’re told anyway. You drop to your knees. His cock achingly hard in front of you. He holds himself and drags the wet tip across your lips. He slides the underside of his cock against your face and without thought you dart your tongue out, tasting him. Mike groans, the sound rattling in his chest. With no warning given, he slips his cock between your lips and stops halfway. Your eyes water at how thick he is. 

When you look up you see he’s holding his phone, camera directed at you with his cock in your mouth. “Sorry,” he says with a faint smirk. “I need a souvenir to remember how good you look with my cock in your mouth. Who knew Afton’s precious daughter was such a slut.” 

Your eyes flutter as he shoves the phone back into his jacket pocket. He cradles your head and starts fucking himself deep into your mouth. “You know,” he rasps. Mike pushes himself especially deep and smiles broadly when you choke around him. “You really should be thanking me for not slitting your throat during all the nights I watched you.” 

He suddenly stops and pulls out until it’s only the head between your lips. His cock throbs on your tongue, he forces your gaze up to him, “Thank me for not slitting your throat.” 

“Thank—” It’s hard to speak with him still between your lips. You swallow and try again, your nipples tight. “Thank you for not slitting my throat.” 

“Such an obedient girl,” he muses. “I’m going to fuck you in every corner of this house. Get up—” 

He says that but lifts you himself, impatient, he presses you against the window, your cheek smushed against the clear surface. Your neck strains a little. His breath caresses the back of your neck, his lips on your ear, “Time to pay for your father’s sins.”

Mike lifts your shirt and pulls down your sweats. His cock lays heavy above the small of your back. Warm and wet. You clench as he pushes you forward, your breasts fully pressed against the glass. He kicks your legs apart, holding your arms back, Mike slips inside you with ease. Your breath halts in your throat. You only feel pleasure. You drip down his length, and with a groan, he buries himself to the hilt. 

“I knew you’d been waiting for this,” he groans. “So fucking wet—” 

“M—Mike—” 

He clicks his tongue and cocks his head to the side, his forehead brushing against the back of your head. “Not Mike.” 

“Daddy,” you moan as he pulls out and slams back in. You choke. “Daddy—” 

Mike fucks into your harder, the sound of skin against skin echoes in the room, wet squelches following. Your knees shake as you find yourself completely immobile against the glass. His fingers curl around your neck and he yanks your head back, hips relentless. 

“Look at that, anyone could see you now. I wish we had an audience.” Your cunt squeezes him like a vice, his hips stutter forward, a sharp moan rattling in his throat. He laughs. “Does that turn you on?” Helpless, you nod. “That’s it, take it. Daddy’s whore.” 

“Kiss me—please—” 

The plea takes him by surprise, he stops, hand tensing around your neck, you feel the pulse of his cock deep inside you. He drags his hips down your neck and teases you with his teeth. Goosebumps rise over your skin. And finally—finally—those perfect plush lips meet your own. It’s cruel really. The red strings of fate that tie you two together. You’re still not sure what to make of it all. Or of him. But you surrender. You surrender to his mouth and tongue. Mike swallows you whole. His tongue moves lavishly over yours, sliding and sucking as he presses harder inside you. 

“Gonna come inside,” he breathes into your mouth. His hand drops between your legs, your body shaking as he draws tight circles around your clit. 

Mike’s lips meet your throat, gentle then ravenous, making their way to the blankets of your clavicle, scraping the delicate skin. You arch against him, pleasure building, craving more. He thrusts harder, deeper, the pleasure increasing with each movement. His fingers grab your hips, and you can feel yourself tightening around him, his cock slamming against your core inside of you. Obscene sounds come from where he’s playing with your clit. You feel like a rag doll. And soon the coil snaps, you’re falling. 

Your entire body goes tense, his name leaving your lips in an urgent plea as the pleasure overtakes you. You shake and tremble, Mike continues to hammer into you, hand leaving your core and bracing itself near your head. Briefly, you manage to look outside. See the darkness that looms over the forest. Then you notice his reflection in the glass, eyes meeting yours. 

He smiles. 

Mike moans loudly, lips parting, his hips stutter over and over, spilling himself inside. Your eyes roll back, a whimper falling from your mouth as you take all of it. He holds himself there until his come starts to drip from where he stretches you. Your forehead finds purchase on the glass. Cold and soothing. His lips brush the back of your neck. 

“You look so tired already but we’re not done yet,” he parts your lips with his fingers and pushes them inside. Teary, you find his eyes in the reflection once more. He’s pleased. “I was serious in what I said, Miss Afton. I own you, now.” 

“Mike. . .” 

“And no matter where you run off to,” he murmurs, cutting you off. A hint of annoyance in using his name.  “I’ll always come back.”

[jokeringcutio]

"This is a Nice Job" - Black Phone & FNAF Crossover - Reader Insert (Implied William Afton x Reader & Grabber x Reader) [ 1/?]

AN: As I am known to do, I might just start a few drabbles in this setting because I love it.

Summary: You're working at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place for William Afton and Mr. Henry, when you have a chat with the hired magician for the day: The Great Al.

Fandoms: Five Nights at Freddy's, The Black PhoneRating: Teen? Warnings: Older man/younger woman, Nothing Explicit (yet), Only implied William Afton x Reader & Grabber(Albert Shaw) x Reader, Flirting with murderers? Reader likes her job around kids. Not betaread. [ Support x ]

This was actually inspired by @cartoonykat's ask:

Loud music filled your ears, interrupted by the occasional shouts of little children as you darted between the tables, a tray of fizzing drinks balanced precariously in your grip. The squeals and laughter of children swirled around you, their faces smeared with icing and joy. You placed a paper cup before each eager set of hands, your smile never faltering.

"Careful now, don't spill," you murmured, patting a small head as its owner looked up at you with wide, grateful eyes.

"Thank you!" the child chirped, clutching the drink like a treasure.

"Happy to help," you replied, your voice a soft melody amid the cacophony of celebration.

Your gaze swept across the room, ensuring all was well, when the sudden hush of captivated little ones snagged your attention. There, at the center of the restaurant, stood Albert Shaw, the hired magician for today’s party. Freddy’s Pizza Place usually had a few performers they worked with, including a clown and this magician. His white-painted face was stark against the backdrop of colorful streamers, his large sunglasses hiding eyes that held secrets darker than the void.

‘The Great Al’, they called him, as he conjured silk scarves from his large top hat, making them dance like serpents charmed by his will alone. With the hat off you could see the shoulder-length dark hair that he hid underneath his hat most of the time. It was already turning grey, betraying his age which was harder to pinpoint with all the makeup covering his face.

He plucked coins from behind ears, eliciting gasps and giggles from his audience, each trick a thread in the tapestry of his dark artistry. He was good with the kids, you thought. His low voice occasionally made its way over the music that he had playing in the background. You found yourself rooted to the spot, your heart thudding a dangerous rhythm.

"Watch closely," he intoned, his low gravelly voice a siren's call that reverberated through your bones. A deck of cards appeared in his hands, flickering through his fingers as if alive. Strong hands, you noted. Thick fingers. Delicious. No – You shook the dirty thoughts away. You shouldn’t be thinking about one of the restaurant’s performers like that.

And then, with a flourish that defied logic, the cards transformed into a flurry of doves, their wings beating against the still air of the restaurant. The children erupted in applause, but you barely heard them. Your pulse quickened. The magician smiled as he revealed a small box and teased the kids with it. It was empty, but after a magical spell, the box was suddenly filled with enough candy to share around. You’d seen this performance several times now, and every time he managed to captivate you.

"Impossible," someone whispered beside you, echoing the disbelief that churned in your thoughts.

Al's performance built to a crescendo, the very air charged with anticipation. With a final bow, he finished, receiving thunderous cheers from his young fans.

"Amazing," you breathed, the word slipping out like a prayer to a deity you were only beginning to comprehend.

"Excuse me,” the voice cut through the din of merriment, stark and commanding. You flinched, recognizing the voice before you turned around. “Could you come here for a moment?"

Oh no, have I done something wrong? The worried voice echoed inside your mind. I was only looking for a moment, Mr. Afton, you thought to yourself, focusing on what you could say in your defense. I was still on the job and paying attention.

Mr. Afton, your boss and one of the restaurant’s owners, stood in the dimly lit entrance to his office, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He was tall, his stature was impressive for a man of his age. Already greying at the top, hair thinning, large glasses enlarging his eyes, belly poking out from underneath his arms.

You hesitated, your gaze lingering on the excited group of kids that had gathered around Albert Shaw. But duty called, its voice as inescapable as gravity. With one last glance at the festive chaos of the party, you made your way toward your boss, the weight of his stare pulling you forward like a marionette on taut strings.

"Mr. Afton," you greeted him, striving for a tone of respectful professionalism despite the unease coiling in your stomach.

"Come inside my office," not a question, but a demand thinly veiled with kindness. His lips curled into a semblance of a smile, not quite reaching the coldness of his eyes behind those aviator glasses.

Mr. Afton was a tall man, taller than most that you met in your life. His hair was thinning on top and greying but still had a lively curl to it. His eyes seemed larger behind the thick glasses he wore. Strands of grey adorned his pepper-and-salt beard. He was the exact definition of a ‘dad bod’.  In fact, you had heard he had a family, even though you’d never seen them. Rumors said he was divorced.

You followed him inside to see a large desk, files, and papers strewn all over it. There was an animatronic in the corner of the room, purple, with ears hanging. You thought it might be some kind of rabbit.

The thud of the door closing behind you made you jump and you turned to look behind you to see Afton had closed it. His eyes met yours, only for a short while, and you fidgeted nervously with your hands because… had you done something wrong? Had he caught you looking at the magician? That must have been it, there was nothing else it could have been. He must think you to be slacking. But you weren’t. You were still alert, still focused on any peep from a parent or child.

You needed this job and actually liked it more than you thought you would.

"I've been watching you,” your boss started, licking his lips as he walked toward his desk and then turned to lean against it. He folded his arms in front of his chest, his purple tie wrinkling with the motion against his yellow blouse. The sleeves were pulled up, showing strong forearms riddled with veins and scars.

“You have a knack for this,” he started in that low, stern voice of his. “Keeping the little ones entertained."

"Thank you, sir," you replied, shuffling awkwardly in front of his desk. There was a chair there, but should you sit down? He remained standing so you should too, right? Your mind was racing. Had you done something wrong? Had you not followed protocol? Was your uniform in order?

"I just want to make sure they're all having a good time," the words stumbled from your lips, clumsily and awkwardly, but the smile you managed afterward seemed to soften the look in Mr. Afton’s eyes.

"Indeed." He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, like a storm cloud blotting out the sun. "However, I couldn't help but notice you seemed... distracted. By the magician, was it?"

You swallowed hard, caught off guard. "He's very talented," you deflected, but Mr. Afton's gaze pierced through your defenses, reading unspoken words.

“I,” you hesitated and watched as your boss raised a brow. Swallowing down your fear and gathering your courage, you spoke up again, louder this time. “I was still keeping an eye on the kids and delivering orders though. I might have seemed distracted but I was still doing my job.”

“So it seems,” Mr. Afton murmured, pressing a finger against his lips thoughtfully. You watched the wrinkle between his eyes deepen as he frowned.

"Be careful," he murmured, his voice silk over steel. "You are a pretty girl and I have noticed the man has been looking at you. People aren't always what they seem." There was a warning there, wrapped in the velvet of concern, yet it felt like a threat all the same.

"Of course, Mr. Afton. I'll remember that." Your words were steady, but inside, confusion and curiosity churned. Why did it feel like he cared? And why did it matter so much?

"Good." He clasped your shoulder briefly – a gesture that tried to be fatherly but felt possessive. "Keep up the good work. We need employees like you."

"Thank you, sir." You nodded, excusing yourself from his heavy gaze, a strange sense of relief flooding you as you stepped back into the colorful light of the party.

But as you returned to refilling cups and plating slices of cake, you couldn't shake the feeling of Mr. Afton's eyes on you, nor could you ignore the tingling sensation where his hand had been.

What had that been all about?

You wove through the sea of balloons and streamers, your heart still thudding from Mr. Afton's cryptic parting words. The din of the party enveloped you, a cacophony of glee that almost drowned out the lingering unease. Almost.

The magician, Albert Shaw, stood center stage, lowering his sunglasses to reveal his pale eyes sweeping over the crowd like a predator surveying prey. Tiny hands clapped with fervor as he flourished his final trick – a bouquet appearing from thin air. The children squealed, their delight pure and infectious. But when your gaze met his, something flickered there – an abyss that beckoned and repelled.

"Bravo!" The word slipped from your lips, but the echo in your mind whispered caution.

"Thank you, my dear audience!" Shaw's voice wrapped around the room, velvet lined with smoke. His bow was elegant, yet each movement seemed calculated, a dance with shadows only he could see.

As you slipped behind the bar, the festive chaos became a blur. You began stacking cups, the routine task grounding you. You missed Erica and Lucy. They at least pulled you into conversations every now and again. Today, your only colleagues were Mike and El, who were just teenagers whose hormones had started to work and who were way too busy with each other than with managing the tables. And there were Justin and Jax. The two J’s. Boys who had worked here for so much longer than you that they often forgot you were there and were mostly talking to each other.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts, focusing on the music that played from the speakers softly in the background, that you hadn’t noticed the magician’s approach until his presence loomed over you. Albert Shaw leaned against the polished wood, his silhouette casting a long shadow in the neon glow.

"Could I trouble you for a glass of water?" His request was simple, mundane, but it crawled under your skin, insistent.

That voice, you thought, hearing that deliciously dark rasp in it. Was he a smoker? Whatever caused his voice to sound like that, it worked for you. It did things no employee should have to go through during working hours.

Embarrassing really.

"Of course," you replied, your voice steady despite the tremble in your fingers. "It's on the house," you joked. You poured the water, the liquid crystal clear and innocent, an odd contrast to the darkness that seemed to cling to him.

"Generous," he remarked, a smile quirking at the corner of his mouth. It was a smile that promised secrets, a whisper of sin.

“I do have lemonade, soda, perhaps a fizzy drink?” You offered, cocking a brow. “I know there are cans of beer in the back. I could get a real drink for you. No costs.”

The man’s expression was hard to read, with all the makeup and the dark glasses hiding his bright eyes once more. But you thought you could see his smirk grow. His fingers curled around the glass of water, muscles tensing.

“A soda, then,” he said after a contemplative hum. “I still need to drive home.”

“A soda it is then,” you confirmed, looking at him from over your shoulder as you set to work to get him his free drink. “Most men prefer the beers.”

“Like I said,” his gravelly voice came while he tapped the brim of his top hat. “Got to drive.”

You watched as he sipped from his glass of water. Little droplets of sweat were running down the sides of his cheeks, smudging the white of his makeup.

“Responsible,” you murmured, placing the soda in front of him. “Here you are, sir.”

“Thanks.” He took the glass, fingers brushing yours. Electric. Intentional. You inhaled sharply, the air suddenly thick with something unspoken.

Your pulse raced. This man was danger masquerading as charm, and yet, you were drawn like a moth to a flame.

You cleared your throat and quickly turned away.

"Nice performance," you managed, feeling heat creep into your cheeks. The innocence of the party around you clashed with the intensity of the moment, the frivolity of balloon animals and birthday cake juxtaposed against the enigma before you. You were vaguely aware of eyes upon you, but when you looked up, all of your co-workers were busy minding themselves.

“You’ve seen me perform before,” the magician said. Touché. He was right there. “Was today’s better than all my other performances? Or just not as bad?”

You turned to face him again, forcing a small smile.

“It’s always a pleasure to watch your shows,” you hesitatingly confessed. Were your cheeks red again? Could he see that you were blushing? You hoped not. You clumsily started to wipe the bar with a wet rag, wiping away stains of spilled drinks and oily fries.

"Albert Shaw," he introduced himself formally, though you already knew. His name had been murmured in hushed, awed tones all day. He was on the list in the backrooms, hired via Abracadabra Entertainment & Supplies. You knew Afton and Henry bought most of their balloons and garlands from them as well. Although the agency wasn’t as big as Ha-Ha’s, from which they hired their clowns.  

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Shaw." Your reply was automatic, but your mind was alight with curiosity and a dangerous thrill. You lifted the wet rag, showing you couldn’t shake hands with him, to which he took no notice. He reached for your free hand, despite it being wet from the rag as well, took it without hesitation, and shook it.

You stood frozen, uncertain of what to do or how to react, when his hand was already long gone. But Albert was already talking, seemingly unaware of how the little gesture – that little skin-on-skin contact – had rattled you.

"Please, call me Albert." His tone was insistent, a command cloaked in courtesy.

"Then you should call me…" You cut yourself short, almost giving away more than you meant to, "a fan of your work." Not that he wouldn’t know your name by now. It was on a badge on your chest.

"Perhaps one day," he said softly, "you'll show me what you're a fan of up close." The suggestion hung heavy between you, tantalizing and terrifying.

"Maybe," you breathed, the word barely more than a whisper.

As he leaned forward, his finger darted out to the badge on your chest. “Pretty name,” the words tumbled from his lips far more erotically than they should have. “Fits you.”

He then leaned back on the stool in front of the bar and picked up his glass while you spun around with cheeks all flushed, the wet rag still in your hands. You made the error of pressing the rag against your forehead, making you wince and leave for the backroom to get rid of it and dry your head.

This man was making you do weird things.

Upon your return, he was still at the bar, finishing a talk to one of the parents, and seemed to have taken his glasses off. Finally. Wearing sunglasses indoors was weird. As the dad left, Albert turned back to you and nursed his drink. Your eyes deliberately focused on the kids playing, rather than on the way the magician’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank.

Yup. Definitely not going to look at that.

“You’re enjoying this job, aren’t you?” Albert’s words caught you by surprise and you turned to him.

“Well, yes,” you said, because it was obvious. At least you hoped it was.

“You’re smiling radiantly. Like a bright star in the night,” Albert said, a toothy smile cracked the white of his makeup.

“Well," you replied, trying to steady your breathing. "Their laughter, it's... it's infectious." Your words fluttered out, betraying the turmoil within.

"Laughter, yes," he echoed, but something about his tone felt off. It gave you that weird shivery feeling down your spine. "The sound of pure... innocence."

He drank the soda, watching you over the rim of the glass, and you knew that this was no ordinary thirst. This was the thirst of a man accustomed to getting what he desires, by means unknown and best left unexplored.

You shifted uncomfortably, the weight of his stare heavy on your skin and you vaguely excused yourself. “I got swipe behind here too or the boss will think I’m not working.” Anything to get away from his eyes.

“Of course,” Albert replied, the grin never leaving his face.

“Didn’t he used to perform as well?” Albert’s question surprised you and you blinked up, already holding a broom in your hands.

“Huh?”

Albert hummed. “The yellow bunny suit, if I remember correctly. He told me about it once.”

You had to stifle a laugh. “What’s up with you performers and hiding your faces?” You asked. “You, the clowns, all use makeup. And the acrobat lady too. Or they wear big suits with masks.”

"Ah, but we all wear masks, don't we?" Albert tilted his head, a lock of greying hair falling across his brow.

"Sometimes without knowing it," you agreed, feeling the truth of those words more than you cared to admit. Then you sighed, the broom nearly slipping out of your hands.

“I don’t like wearing masks though,” you admitted almost dreamily. “I like to show the world who I really am. Putting on a front seems incredibly tiresome to me, don’t you agree?”

When your eyes met those of Albert, they were unreadable.

“It’s an astonishing thing, to be bashfully and unashamedly oneself.” The words came out brittle, then he reached into the pocket of his black coat.

"Here," he said, slipping a card from his sleeve with a flourish that made you jump. The black and red design swirled before your eyes, hypnotic. "In case you ever need a touch of magic."

His smile was a predator's grin, yet oddly charming.

“Got to do all my advertising myself. And since you were impressed…”

"Thank you," you stammered, feeling the card's smooth edges as you took it. The numbers danced under your fingertips, promising things unsaid.

"Call anytime," he added with a wink. It felt like a secret pact, one you weren't sure you wanted to be part of.

"Maybe I will," you murmured, pocketing the card, the heat of the exchange lingering like a spell.

As he turned to leave, Mr. Afton's shadow fell over you, icy and suffocating. You looked up to find his gaze locked onto yours, unreadable. Was it anger? Curiosity? Longing?

"Good work today," he said, each word measured and precise, but there was something else in his tone. A darkness that coiled beneath the surface.

"Thank you, Mr. Afton," you responded automatically, trying to sound unaffected. But your heart raced, betraying your composure.

"Keep our guests happy," he continued, his voice low, commanding. "That's what keeps them coming back."

"Of course," you nodded, but his eyes never left yours, pinning you like a butterfly in a case.

After a silence that felt like an eternity, Mr. Afton’s stern gaze finally left your face and he turned away from you. “Good girl,” it was but a low whisper, and you had to blink, wondering if the words had been real or if you had imagined them.

The moment you came out of your daze, Mr. Afton had returned to his office, seating himself behind his desk and leaving the door ajar so that he was in your field of vision. Your eyes searched the bar, but it seemed that ‘The Great Al’ had left.

As you watched Mr. Shaw vanish behind the swinging double doors, a shiver crawled up your spine. Laughter and chattering filled your ears, pulling you back to the here and now. And when you looked up, it was to see Mr. Afton as he lifted his eyes from the papers he was working on. Pale eyes that rested upon you for just a tick too long.

You loved your job, but whatever was going on here, you had no clue. The possibilities that filled your mind were too weird to consider. Patting the card hidden away on your body as a silent reminder to put it in your bag before you went home, you decided to ignore the weird tension that had been in the room earlier. And with a smile on your face, you went back into the sea of kids.

You loved this job and all the odd people you met through it.

AN: Guys, I did a thing (: Have you noticed the Arthur Fleck/Joker hints in it.

[charlottecutepie]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

Michael has lost everyone except you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

Michael chuckles, his nightmares telling otherwise.

…

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

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

Michael hates purple colour.

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

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

No, he's not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[angeliccelestt]

Hello! I’m AngelicCelestt She/They (boring user ik sorry smh)

but I’ll be writing fan fiction I have somewhat some experience in fan fiction but I mainly just write full books with my Oc’s I’m working on publishing one of my main books, I’m still nervous to be on a new platform but I’ll get over it, here are the fandoms I’ll be writing for so far.

-One Piece live action and anime in mind

-Five Nights At Freddy’s

-Resident Evil

-Jujutstu Kaisen

Yeah, I’ll end up expanding my fandom list at some point but I’m still trying to adjust to Tumblr I'll link my Wattpad and AO3 even though as of today I don’t have any post on those either.

Feel free to give constructive criticism, tips, and advice but keep in mind that I am currently a full-time student with a job so I wont be posting 24/7.

(AO3 isn’t working for me rn but as soon as it does i’ll put the link on here too)

[pleasantangelpaper]

hehe writing

okay so.. who should I write for? What should I write about? Gimme ideas please <3

Things I will not do. I won’t under any circumstance. ~ The usual stuff that no one who is sane will do such as incest, pedophilia, and beastiality. If you do that shit, go to hell.

~ Drugs, yeah again, just don’t feel comfortable with that, I simply don’t have the experience also.

*THINGS I WANT TO DO*

Fluff!! So much fluff! I love it!

First Dates with (insert fandom here)

Anything Remus lupin. I love him. ……. I’m willing to try writing smut for certain characters…. I just don’t know if it will be good.

Anything Movie!William Afton I go feral for him

*Fandoms I will write for * (A red * means I’ll do smut)

(I hope this goes without saying btw... BUT I AM NOT WRITING ABOUT MINORS.... have a great day.)

Harry Potter Fandom*

Star Wars*

Resident Evil 8

Avengers/ MCU

Jane Austen Characters

Stardew Valley

Scream (1996)*

FNAF (only people)*

Gravity Falls *

The Great Gatsby*

AND MORE!

[ruh--roh-raggy]

Run Rabbit Run (William Afton x Fem! Reader SMUT)

Hello hello! I felt the need to work on something a little different from Home Sweet Home just so I wouldn't get burnt out, here's the product of that. Porn no plot, established relationship and boundaries, be sure to check out the warnings on this one folks! Thank you all so much for reading, if you'd like to be added to my tag list please let me know!

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, MDNI, 18+, established relationship/boundaries, primal play, knife play (no actual cutting), mentions of stabbing, slight physical violence, chasing, shoving, reader elbows William a few times, William wrestles reader to the floor, CNC sort of, cutting off clothes, ripping off clothes, threats of violence, some degradation but not really, biting, marking, possessive!William, choking, size kink, penetrative sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fingering, crying, clit slapping, reader being pinned down and forced into positions by William, hair pulling, spitting, nipple play, age gap (reader in early 20's, William in 50's), aftercare and fluff at the end (please let me know if I missed any!)

You can find my Masterlist here!

Word Count: 3,736

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You pressed yourself against the cool tile wall, your hair sticking to your sweat drenched forehead as you tried to quiet your breathing. You closed your eyes, struggling to listen for any sign of his approach as your pulse thundered in your ears. You could hear it at the other end of the hall, the steady ‘tink…tink…tink’ of a stainless steel blade against tile. You sucked in a deep breath, your only chance of him not catching you is if you could manage to hide. You pressed yourself into the small alcove, hoping the shadows would shroud you just enough to keep you out of the golden rabbit’s sight. A bead of sweat trailed down your temple, dripping off of your jaw and splattering on your bare shoulder. His heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor, the subtle creaking of the suit accompanying every loud thud.

“Run rabbit, run rabbit, run… run… run…” Your blood ran cold at the sound of his voice. He knew you were nearby. That was the thing about him, he never wanted to sneak up on you, he wanted you to know that he was coming, leaving you desperate and scared as you had nowhere left to run. The fear in your eyes would be delicious, if he was lucky enough maybe he’d get the chance to lick the salty tears from your cheek.You caught sight of his massive form shuffling past the opening to where you were tucked away. Your whole body shook as you tried to remain as still as possible, you were finally able to release the breath you were holding as he fully passed by to the other side. You listen to him trudge off, waiting for him to get a considerable distance away before making you move. As carefully as possible you tip toes to the edge of the alcove, peering around the edge to see how far from you he was. You saw him take very slow and deliberate steps, fully dressed in his normal day to day attire save for the addition of the yellow rabbit head and the massive blade in his hand. Deciding you more than likely wouldn’t get a better opportunity you booked it in the opposite direction down the hallway. “Rabbit!” You hear him snarl as he quickly turns on his heels, stomping after you. You stumble around a corner, seeing the door to the main dining room.

You slam against the rusty push bar, throwing the door shut behind you as you stumble into the pitch black room, the only source of light coming from the front door at the opposite side of the restaurant. You sprinted off, hiding yourself under a booth. The golden rabbit crashes through the door, the wooden frame splintering as the latch is ripped from its pocket. He scans around the room, shoulders heaving as adrenaline coursed through his veins. “I know you're in here, rabbit.” His voice deep and gravelly as his eyes scan around the space. “You can't hide forever.” You shuffle yourself away from him, hoping he would wander further into the room, giving you the chance to push back through the door you originally came through and down to the exit. If you could manage to beat him outside you would be able to escape. As you thought of your plan you hadn't realized you lost where he was. Your eyes widened in panic as your ears filled with nothing but silence. You couldn't hear his footsteps anymore, the one indicator of how much danger you were in, gone.

Your blood turns to ice in your veins as you feel his hot breath against the shell of your ear, his dark chuckle making you shiver. “Found you.” He groans as your shoulder connects with his chest, shoving him to the floor before scrambling in the opposite direction. He growls as he chases after you, bounding after you like a crazed animal after its prey. You threw open the door, sprinting down the long dark corridor, sickly yellow light flickering from the dying bulbs as they struggled to illuminate the small space. You slip as you round a corner, managing to catch yourself on the wall in order to recover quickly, you didn't have a fraction of a second to lose. Your pursuer's brown leather shoes slid across the slick tile floor, his body slamming into the opposing wall with a crushing force. You were going to make it, the door was only a few steps away. The glowing red exit sign is a beacon of hope as time itself seems to slow down around you. You hear the golden rabbit let out a guttural growl, charging forward with a new found strength. Your fingers slid against the cool metal of the door, hurrying to push it open, only to find it was locked.

“No.” Your voice shook as you realized he had thought ahead, he knew you would try to get out this way. You shriek as two large hands grab onto your shoulders ripping you away from the door. Your face feels hot as tears begin to flow freely from your eyes. Well, if you had no chance of escape your only hope was to fight your way out. All of your breath gets knocked from your lungs as your back slams into his strong, broad chest. You had to think quickly if you wanted a chance at getting away.

“You're a clever little rabbit, aren't you?” You feel his hot tongue run over the shell of your ear. “Good thing I remembered to lock the door or you would have escaped.” You wind up, sending an elbow flying backwards into his ribs, managing him back with your smaller frame. You bolted for the security room, a large calloused hand catching your arm as you were yanked back to him. You struggled, smacking your hands against his chest trying to kick him, pushing at his masked face as he pressed into you. You gave one violent shove, sending the rabbit head tumbling to the floor. The dilated pupils of William Afton stared down at you, his gray streaked hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. A muscular arm wraps around your waist, you feel one of his legs slip in between yours as he sweeps an ankle out from underneath you, both of you smashing to the ground with him on top of you. You bared your teeth as you fought to push him off of you. He grabs ahold of your wrists, slamming your arms to the cold floor as he pins you down with his legs. “Fuckin’ brat.” He growls. He wraps both of your small, delicate hands in one of his, the other wrapping firmly around your throat, locking your jaw in place so you were forced to stare up at his sharp silver eyes. “You just never know when to quit, do you?” He smiles broadly as he notices the knife you had knocked out of his hand was right at his side. His hand releases your neck, fingers slowly wrapping around the handle of the blade as he picks it up. You struggle against his grasp, your body thrashing wildly underneath his. “Better hold still, bunny. We wouldn’t want someone to get cut, would we?” He drags the dull side of the blade up your clothed stomach.

Your breath shudders out in the silence, watching the shiny steel blade glint in the low light. “You put up a good fight bunny.” He chuckles, gathering up the fabric of your shirt onto the edge of his blade before slicing through it. “Your struggling is only going to make this that much sweeter.” He smiles dangerously at you. He slides the flat side of the blade under your bra, between your breasts, twisting the knife upwards to quickly cut the thin strip of lace between the cups. Goosebumps littered your skin as a chill settled over your exposed body, the thin veil of sweat that covered your torso quickly stealing all your heat away. William breathes out a raspy groan at the sight of your naked form, leaning down to take one of your hardened nipples into his mouth. You can't stop a soft gasp from escaping your lips as you feel his tongue swirl around the sensitive bud. He catches it between his teeth, making you help, before pulling off of you. “I've barely touched you and you're already making such cute sounds, rabbit.” You can't help but blush as he traps you under his gaze. “I can only imagine how fucking pathetic you'll sound whimpering on my cock.” He chuckles. He presses the tip of the knife to your skin, just light enough that it wouldn't puncture your skin. “I wonder how loudly I can get you to scream for me.” His head dips into the crook of your neck, lips fluttering over the sensitive skin. You shudder as he pops off the button of your jeans with his blade, the metal clattering against the floor as he roughly rips your pants down your legs, grabbing both sides of the zipper he rips the denim down the seam, splitting the garment in half. He roughly runs at your clit through your panties with his thick fingers, causing you to cry out from the sensation.

“Already so fucking wet for me.” He growls, pressing against your entrance, making you squirm. “You liked being chased, bunny? Do you like knowing that I'll do absolutely anything to hunt you down and get my hands on you?” Hearing his gravelly tone made heat pool in your core. He hooked a finger into your panties, pulling the fabric back before letting it snap back against your clit, making you moan. “What was that rabbit?” He repeats the motions, making you let out another broken moan. He grabs the thin lace, ripping it with a loud tearing sound before fully removing it from your body. “Such a pretty little thing, I can't wait to fucking break you.” His breath was hot as it bounced against your cheek. Sharp teeth grazing over your skin before he presses a kiss to your temple. He cups your sex, you whimper as you push yourself against his hand, in desperate need of any type of friction. He coos at you, giving you a mocking pout. “Needy thing.” You yelp as he delivers a sharp slap to your clit, making tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the mixture of pleasure and pain. His fingers grow slick with your arousal as he rubs his fingers firmly over you in an attempt to ease the sting. His middle and ring finger dip inside of you, the ice cold metal of his wedding band paired with the delicious stretch of his thick digits making you yelp. He gives you no time to adjust, thrusting in and out of you at an animalistic pace, making you scream in absolute ecstasy as he rapidly works you right up to the edge of your climax. You sobbed as he suddenly pulls out of you, delivering another sharp slap to your clit, dulling your pleasure as you feel fat tears begin to streak down your cheeks. “Poor bunny, don't cry.” He smirks, licking away the salty trail that coated your skin. He pushes his fingers back inside of you, immediately picking up the same pace as before.

“Oh my fucking God!” You manage to yank one of your hands free, it immediately latches around his wrist as he mercilessly fucks you on your fingers.

“So fucking pretty rabbit, my little slut getting fucked dumb on my fingers. Look at how pathetic you are, you're already drooling.” He releases your other hand. He cups your cheek, his thumb running over your bottom lip before he pushes it into your mouth. You eagerly lap at it with your tongue, groaning around the digit as he repeatedly hits the spongy part inside of you that had the edges of your vision going white. “Fuck, you're so beautiful.” He groans, pressing the heel of his hand to your clit as he continues to fuck into you. Your eyes roll back in your head, biting lightly onto the thumb you held in your mouth. You could feel your orgasm welling up inside of you, your moans becoming desperate and needy as you felt yourself preparing to tip over the edge. “Don't you fucking cum.” He growls, not slowing his pace in the slightest.

“Please,” your voice was thick with tears as you begged him. “Please let me cum, ‘s too much.” Your words slurred as you struggled to form a sentence, your mind numb with pleasure. “I want to cum on your fingers please.” Your hips stuttered as he suddenly pulled out of you, your pussy clenching around nothing as your orgasm quickly faded.

“You haven't earned it.” He whispers gruffly against your ear. His strong hands knead your thighs, you hear a soft groan leave his mouth as he admires your glistening sex. His fingers ghost over your swollen clit, making your legs tremble as the sensitive bundle of nerves ached to be touched. His eyes hungrily scan over your body, the way your chest rapidly rises and falls with every breath, the tears that streaked down your face, your lips puffy and pink from you chewing on them in an attempt to keep quiet, to hide how good he was making you feel. The sight alone was enough to ignite something feral in him. You yelp as his teeth sink into your shoulder, hard enough that you knew there would be a perfect imprint of his bite left behind. William marked you as his in any way he could think of; dark love bites in every inch of your skin he could get his mouth on, crescents where his finger tips dug into your his as he fucked you senseless, the smell of his musky cologne permanently saturated into your skin from how closely he kept you pressed to him. You belonged to him and no one else, his pretty little rabbit. He fumbles with his belt and the fastenings on his pants, eventually managing to free his long, thick member. He taps the hot skin against your clit, making your whole body jolt. He pushes his hips fully against your cunt, making you whimper at the pressure. He releases his erection, letting it slap against your stomach. You swallowed thickly, his member appearing impossibly large to fit in your body but you knew he somehow would manage.

“Such a tiny little thing.” He groans. “I'm going to fuck my way into your stomach.” His voice comes out in a growl, he traced a line just under your navel where his pink tip ended. He ruts his hips against you a few times, letting out a gruff moan as he lets his cock get coated in your arousal, the friction of the firm muscle sliding over our aching sex making you mewl. He teases your clit a few times before lining up with your entrance, your hips jolted from him barely pushing inside of you. He curses under his breath. “You feel so fucking good.” He wraps his hand around the shaft, simultaneously stroking himself as he watches the tip of his cock disappear inside of your tight entrance. He gradually works you open, managing to push himself deeper inside of you with every thrust, your walls spasming around the intrusion as you cried out in pleasure. Your nails dig into his biceps, one hand still roughly holding your hips in place, making it impossible for you to squirm away. He takes his time pulling out of you to the tip only to push himself entirely inside of you, his hips pressing firmly into the plush of your thighs. You couldn't think straight, incoherent nonsense falling from your lips as you tried to formulate a string of words to beg him to let you finish. Your whole body burned with your impending orgasm, the feeling of him nestled right against your cervix making you see stars as you tried to fight through the nearly incomprehensible fullness of him member being stuffed inside of you. He roughly grabs your jaw, forcing your mouth open. He leans over you with a smirk, spitting directly onto your eagerly awaiting tongue.

“My slutty bunny.” He purrs, giving your face a small shake before letting your go. His grip on your hips grows impossibly tighter, he pulls all the way out of you before slamming you back down on his cock. You scream his name, your back arching off of the floor. The force he fucked you with was almost inhuman, his hips snapping perfectly against your clit as he bottomed out in you with every thrust. You clawed at him, bright red marks covering his pale skin. You didn't have any time to even ask for permission to finish, your orgasm ripped through you so quickly, you nearly blacked out from the intensity. You yelped as he delivers another sharp slap to your clit, this time it only added to the aftershocks of your orgasm that ripples through your body. “You wanted to cum on my cock that badly, hm?” He asks as he maintains his relentless pace. You could only nod in response, your brain utter mush as you felt your walls stretch around him. “I’ll make you cum then my dumb bunny.” He pouts. “You're going to keep cumming on my cock until I've decided you've had enough.” He snarls, thumb roughly swiping over your clit, the coil already beginning to tighten in your core. He noticed the pitch of your voice get higher, your cunt fluttering around him as he hit all the right places inside of you.

“Fuck, can I cum?” You whimper.

“That's not how we ask, rabbit.” He grabs a fistful of your hair, jerking your head back in order for you to look him in the eyes.

“Please can I cum, you feel so fucking good.” You manage to bed through gritted teeth. He grants you permission, your body goes rigid as you sob, your legs desperately trying to push yourself off of him but it was no use, his strong hands holding you exactly where he wanted you. The wet squelching noises you made were embarrassing, your cheeks darkening as you only heard yourself grow wetter with his every action. He flips you into all fours, your knees digging painfully into the tile as he hikes your hips up to line himself up with your entrance. Your legs gave out underneath you as he pushes inside, a string arm wrapping around your waist keeping you upright. Tears flowed freaky down your face, dripping from your chin and splattering onto the floor, you felt the heat of your next impending orgasm settle in your stomach, your body still utterly spent and overstimulated from your last one. One of his hands slip in between your legs to rub tight circles on your clit with his calloused fingers. Your moans echoed off the walls, sweat dripping down your spine, you struggled to keep your eyes open as you let yourself fully fall to William’s mercy.

“What's the matter bunny? Did I fuck you stupid?” He chuckles as he notices you're reduced to a whimpering, spasming mess below him. You clenched around him, your body struggling to keep up with his animalistic pace, his massive cock stretching you to your absolute limit. He buried his face in your hair, you feel his lips place a soft kiss to your neck. “You did such a good job sweetheart.” A whine leaves your throat at the sudden praise, your body going completely limp as he tears one last orgasm from you. His hips stuttered as he empties himself inside of you, his hot cum pooling deep in your core. He holds you close to him for a few moments after, the heat radiating from his chest keeping you warm as the sweat rapidly cooled down your body. He carefully pulls out of you, trying his best to avoid any discomfort. He scoops you up in his arms, cradling you against his chest. He carries you into the security office, pulling a blanket out from one of the desks drawers. He wraps you up in it, setting you down on the desk for a moment so he can pull his boxers back on. He settles you in his lap as he collapses back into the office chair.

He gently combs his fingers through your hair, untangling any knots he came across. “Are you okay bunny?” You nod, knowing he would want you to verbally respond to him.

“I'm just really tired.” You admit with a small laugh. “All the adrenaline wore off.”

“You were a tricky one this time.” He responds proudly. “I'm really glad I remembered to lock the back door this time or you probably would've won.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I'll beat you one of these days.” You beam as you cuddle into his chest, allowing you to place a chaste kisa to his lips.

“Are you sure you're alright? I wasn't too rough with you, was I?” You could see the concern in his eyes. You had indulged in this little game because you knew it was something he enjoyed, he would never forgive himself if he ever hurt you, even accidentally.

“I'm perfectly fine honey.” You reach up and languidly rubs your thumb over his cheek. “I actually had a lot of fun.” The two of you share a loving smile.

“How about I help you get dressed so we can go home, I think we both need a nice hot bath.” He offers, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“That sounds wonderful.” You grin back at him in response. William is very careful with you, wanting to make sure that he took care of any soreness he had caused by massaging your muscles as he helped you into a spare set of clothes he kept around for when he destroyed the ones you were wearing. He kisses you softly as he places you in the passenger seat, your tires gaze of adoration making his heart beat quicken. “I love you Will.” Your lips brushed his as you kept him close.

“And I love you, rabbit.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Tag List: @yellowbunnydreams @zoey5252 @loudchaosking @redflowery @weirdoartist21 @residentevilbeast