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lovelykhaleesiii · 5 months

Note

dark!mike with vanessa sister…

perhaps she’s a police officer (or cop whatever people call them) like her sister or vanessa just brings her along.

Vanessa gets a call about a break in somewhere else and leaves her sister with mike at the pizzeria, one thing leads to another and mike her up against the desk.

(not the best at trying to explain stuff, sorry!!)

Good Cop, Bad Cop

PAIRING: Dark!Mike Schmidt x fem!Afton!Reader

WORDS: 2,352.

WARNINGS: swearing, p in v sexual intercourse, breast play, degradation kink, slight praise kink, dark!Mike, possessive qualities. Mike being a tease.

A/N - thank you for sending this request in! hope I did it justice x please feel free to leave a comment / reblog :)

It was nothing out of the ordinary, being paired with your elder sister, Vanessa, tagging along her side during the night shifts. If you were being quite honest with yourself, you had suspected it. Besides, she was your senior, a colleague, as you were just a fresh, new recruit in the local police department. To break the ice, your sheriff thought it best to pair you two together, nonetheless.

"Just need to make a quick stop-"

As the alluring neon red and blue lights flickered off from the reflection of the dark, stained glass, your curious eyes wandered towards the desolate, outdated building before you. From the sheer glimpse of the ruined exterior, an uneasy sensation, some hesitation to even leave the vehicle began to churn in the pit of your stomach. This place did not look welcoming by the least, despite the shattered fragments of cartoonish figures decorated on its exterior: most likely an attempt to appeal to the children of previous generations.

"Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria?" You confounded, naturally feeling the puzzling flex of your brows furrowing with confusion, as you turned to face your elder sister in the driver's seat.

"Just need to make a quick round, Mike here is the new security guard... This place is known for vandals and criminal activity. And he's only one person."

With the swift mention of his name, Vanessa's head instinctively nudged towards the direction of the older, rugged looking brunette, who stood by the locked entrance of the neglected complex. Eerily as if he had heard the mention of his name, even with the substantial distance apart, his head flicked upwards as means of a wordless "hello."

His features felt unthreatening, strewed with a tinge of exhaustion, as you noticed the dark circles that saturated beneath his eyes. Regardless, you could not deny, he was quite pleasing to look at, a handsome face nonetheless: it was a shame he spent his nights hidden away in some remote corner of town, and his days asleep.

"Glad to see you made it through another night. Just wanted to make sure you hadn't run into trouble already. This is my sister, by the way, and our new rookie, Y/N-"

"Dragged you along, did she now?" Mike remarked, and although you surmised it was his attempt to kid, his tone remained monotoned, except for the subtle, sly smirk across his face, as he assertively leaned his hands over to shake your own. His grip was strong against your own, his hand larger in size, swallowing your own, his texture rough. His lingering eyes had been fixated on you since you came into his vision: catching fleeting yet blatant glances, he showed no shame when you had caught him those few instances. A sudden, flustering wave of heat flashed across your face, feeling your cheeks turn shamefully scarlet. Even disguised in your uniform, declaring such authority, you felt bashfully meek in his presence, rather a school girl than a cop.

As Vanessa's familiar voice echoed in the background, your attention panned to the vacant, decaying building. It felt somewhat eerily familiar, a faint memory you could scamper in your mind in the distance and yet nothing jolted a clear vision.

The abrupt static whirring of the radio from the vehicle had snapped you back to reality: immediately she excused herself as she scattered off, leaving you to bask with Mike.

"S-So you've only just started as security... Here?" You softly stutter, intent on maintaining direct eye contact with Mike in reciprocation, even though it felt conflicting against your meek nature. Despite the practical training and experience dealing with delinquents, this vulnerability was a first. He seemed timid yet unnerving simultaneously: you felt uncertain whether he was simply just a quiet, introverted man or if he truly intended to disguise and deceit himself as one.

"No-No, I've been here for a month now, your sister just likes to make her rounds. Think she's still uncertain about me, but I don’t blame her."

His response ignited a satisfying wave of relief: as you leaned towards the hurtful notion that he would ignore you. The huskiness in his low voice almost made it feel as though he was sleep talking, only loud enough for you to hear.

"Just a curious thing though, your uh- sister. She's never mentioned you before...W-Why's that?" He uttered, as his brows frowned in sync with his words, a bemused look tinged across his face, as he patiently awaited your answer.

"W-Well V's always been private about her personal life. Since I could remember, sh-she's always been this particular way. Just her innate nature, I s'pose," Defeatedly sighing garnishing your final words, with an indefinite shrug, before glancing back at Vanessa, caught in her own world.

"Well, your sister took no time trusting me... But you- You are the undetected anomaly in her story. There must be a reason..."

Vanessa had abruptly left in the company of a man you had just met.. Having hastily returned from the radio call, from a fellow colleague requesting for her senior presence as backup, she was bound to follow. She had insisted you remain with Mike as he settled for the night, whether he approved of it or not however, you could not say with certainty. He remained silent and sullen, as you both carefully watched your elder sister driving off into the nightly distance, the glaring neon blue and red lights flashing in the distance.

Mike had led you in, gesturing you to enter first as a gentleman would, before shutting the entrance close once more. Thankfully, he had broken the awkward silence, excusing himself momentarily to boost the electricity, only to give you a brief tour of the premises before guiding you into the security office, where the blank monitor screens echoed your reflection.

"So you really just sit here the entire night? And watch the screens?" You intrigued, feeling the natural flex of your brows furrowing, as you fiddled with the papers and dusty stationary on the desktop. A part of you, unable to fathom that a job like this would exist in such a deserted place like this.

"A job is a job for me. At that point, I was willing to take anything they offered." The monotone level of his voice was unwavering, deep, his tiresome eyes remained fixated on you though, as you remained unwilling to return the favour.

"I suppose so, don't you get lonely all by yourself though? Nothing to make the time go by-"

With no spatial awareness, you hadn't even realised how close Mike had slowly crept towards you. Closing off the distance inch by inch, before he assertively strode towards you. The unfamiliar sensation of his arm snaking around your waist, was what had caught your deficient attention, as he plunged his lips against your own in a passionate kiss. And although your eyes had widened in bewilderment, your body froze like an ancient statue in the initial seconds, as your mind raced to comprehend. As he lingered on, pursuing the kiss, your tense muscles easing, you felt no obligation to shove Mike off. No urge to decline his advance, it felt destined, relaxed into his embrace.

"W-What was that about?" You breathlessly stuttered: not wanting to decline Mike nor give the impression that you had disapproved. Despite only having met the man an hour ago, he made you feel helpless, like some schoolgirl with a pathetic, little crush that devoured her from the inside out.

Was it truly the boredom of the night that had consumed his rational mind, to do something that seemed quite extraordinary for him?

"You don't think I didn't notice you blushing outside? How nervous I made you? You don't think I would take advantage of a pretty girl like you gushing on me, huh?

His soft lips once more made contact with you, although this time exploring the sensitive crook of your nick: eagerly sucking at your tender skin.

"M-Mike we sh-shouldn't, I-I'm an off-"

"Nah-Nah, baby... You're going to be my fuck toy tonight. My little, pretty whore to keep me company. That's what you really want to be, right?"

His gentle kisses in between the suckling of your skin was bewitching enough to send your mind into an abyss. You knew this was wrong, you knew that if Vanessa found out, if your department found out, it would stain your career, or worse. And yet, your body said otherwise, disintegrating into Mike's lustful appetite.

"I-I sh-shouldn't."

*tut tut* "You know you want to, baby... Why deny it? I didn't think there were any pretty girls worth it left in this fucking hell hole... You think I'm going to pass it up?-"

With his words, Mike had swiftly lifted you momentarily, nesting himself between your spread legs as you sat atop the desk. One of his rough, calloused hands remained pinning your hips, whilst the other snaked its way smoothly beneath your uniform, firmly cupping and kneading at your breast.

"No-No... I've already put up with enough, I deserve something special. M'gonna fuck you so good, I'll have you forgetting you even were on the job."

"Y-Yes" You pathetically whimper, your hands instinctively wandering over Mike's body, itching to feel his bare skin against your palms. You manage to sneak your arms beneath his shirt, feeling the thickness of his flexing muscles beneath his moving body, as you grip at his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh.

"Look at you, princess, already so needy for me. You desperate for my cock, huh? What happened to the talking stage?" He lowly teases, a smirk spewed across his face, as you feel its curvature press against your skin, his low chuckle in harmony to your mindless whimpers and moans.

"L-Later- I-I want you now, M-Mike."

"That's my girl," His deep growls vibrating against your tender, cool skin. You hadn't even realised how swift and slick Mike was, unclasping your bra, as he began to unbutton your polo shirt, before undoing your pants. Returning the favour, with much haste and eagerness, you began to unbuckle Mike's worn out belt, as you undid his jeans.

"Easy, baby, easy- What would they think of you back at the station? The police department's little slut... My pretty, little slut."

For a few split seconds, Mike ogled at your lace panties, savouring the sight before pulling them down to expose your bare, wet cunt. Noticing how his eyes lit for the first time since meeting, an ecstasy glistened in his dark orbs, as he licked his lips with desire.

"I'm gonna have you at my beckon call from now. Spoil me with your services."

Mike pulled his body apart from yours, the heat exuding, as both your bodies felt flushed and moistened with sweat: panting as you caught your breath. Mike naturally pulled his underpants down, exposing his rigid, girthy cock: just above average length, although the sheer size was mouthwatering. His tip reddened, with a few veins protruding with anticipation.

"Look-Look at what you've done to me, Y/N..."

Without a moment to spare, as Mike once again closed the faint distance between: his throbbing cock teasingly brushed against your sensitive folds, before plunging himself in. The lightning, raw pain was exhilarating, as you felt your walls stretching beyond relief to accomodate for Mike's bulky mass. His steady pace was sloppy, as his thrusts would quicken with each pump, pummelling your body further into the desk. If you hadn't been clinging to his back dearly, nails drilling into his skin [you were certain evidence of reddened, defined marks would show] that you'd knock of a monitor or two.

"F-Fuck you feel s-so good. So tight for me, baby. Th-This was meant to be. M-Meant for me."

Endless curses and swears escaped from Mike's mouth, in sync to your moans of his name. Each time his name left your mouth, his thrust grew more vigorous, igniting something animalistic in him.

With each sloppy, hasten pace and forcible thrust, Mike had finally reached his peak, shooting his hot, thick seed inside of you, drenching your insides. Your stretched, tight walls coated now, some seed spilling through the gaps onto your inner thighs, once again was a gesture that made Mike pleased. Pleased with himself, more so.

Inevitably, this ignited the same peak, as your wetness pooled over his cock, still buried and throbbing inside of you.

"F-Fuck Y/N... Th-That was s'fucking good."

After having regained your senses and thoughts, you'd managed to clean yourself up, Mike humbly passing you a spare cloth or two from the cleaning storage. He remained by your side, intently watching you from a shy distance, interjecting just once to make certain you were okay. As you finished, he exhaustedly sat himself down on the desk chair, rubbing his palms against his thick, sprawled thighs.

"You make sure it's you visiting me from now, baby. Your sister talks too much for my liking... And she's not as pretty to look at as you."

Despite the familiar, bashful feeling Mike made you feel, as foolish as butterflies in your stomach, you felt somewhat used, and dejected.

"I-I'm not some girl you can just sleep around with Mike. I have morals, and I have a respectable job... You can't just use me like-"

"I don't want to use you, Y/N... I-I want to make you mine, the fucking is just an ugh-added bonus."

Sighing in defeat, although Mike's sly smirk was a devious looking one, his eyes however remained unchanged and stern. In the pit of your stomach, your instincts told you there was truth to his words.

Just as you were about to fathom a response, the sudden, screeching ringing sound of an outdated buzzer blared through the speaker. Mike leapt over towards the monitors, deciphering a button or two, before multiple screens lit up with the perspective of some camera in a corner. On one screen the familiar, blonde hair of your sister shot through, before her face turned towards the camera.

"Our time's up, princess. I'll see you later, okay?"

credit for dividers - @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

#mike schmidt #michael afton #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt imagines #mike schmidt fanfic #mike schmidt fanfiction #mike schmidt smut #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf imagines #fnaf imagine #michael schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x fem!reader #dark!mike schmidt

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luxbub · 5 months

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(nsfw) i need mike schmidt carnally COUGHS who said that—

anyway may i request sub!Mike and anything to do with overstim or breeding with some praise thrown in there? maybe jacking him off repeatedly until he’s cum multiple times and made a mess of both of you 😳😳😳

AHAHAH i’m obsessed with the idea of sub!mike like you can’t tell me that man is at least not a switch

Thought i hate to say that i’m kinda sick and at the moment i don’t really like the way i wrote it so ill probably try to edit it when i feel better

sub!mike schmidt overstim

minors DNI +18

sub!mike who just can’t keep it quiet, always panting and whimpering at your touch

sub!mike who could cum just by looking at your bouncing tits as you ride him

sub!mike whose cock was still milked from his previous orgasms and was twitching helplessly against your coated with release walls

sub!mike who’s lazy thrusts were hitting at your spot just right, as you started to tortuously speed up your rythme

sub!mike who suddenly felt another orgasmic wave coming at him as you squeezing his cock

sub!mike who was shaking his head at your words “one more baby, just one more f’me” but you smiled as his cock stirred inside of you and his hands tightened their grip on your hips

sub!mike whose cock started to lazy thrust up at you, only after you tugged at the fallen strands of his hair, making him whine

sub!mike whose vision clouded as you told him “i want to hear you” after you saw him trying to shuffle his whines

sub!mike whose whimpers were getting louder and louder the harder you humped at him, until he shot his hot release into your walls

#mike schimdt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt #fnaf x you #fnaf imagines #fnaf x reader #fnaf smut #mike schmidt drabble #🫧bubbles writes

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mo0nfairy · 5 months

Text

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ A HOUSE IN NEBRASKA !

summary :: mike schmidt did not realize the weight of his mistake before it was too late. when he had first met you, his baby sister's beloved teacher, he couldn't imagine ever leaving you. with his aunt's demands to see her niece, however, he had no choice. now, a year later and two states over, everyday is spent suffocating on misery and memories. mike does not know how much more of this he can endure before he breaks.

word count :: 9.2k.

content warnings :: obsessive!mike, yandere!mike, fnaf movie spoilers, drugging, kidnapping, violence, stalking, & insinuations of s3x.

mike schmidt's yandere traits are . . .

obsessive, paranoid, & nervous

──── Everything is hazy.

Fuzzy. Blurry. Serenity in its sheerest form. The absolute definition of tranquility.

That April morning in Nebraska. The scent of sugar and crayons, the sounds of children playing outside, the scattered toys left on rainbow carpets. You're sat at the desk in your classroom. Warm light bleeding through the window behind you, framing you with flowering leaves and sunshine.

Across the room, Abby Schmidt sits on the floor. Her small fingers tap the glass enclosure where the class pet is. Mr. Cupcake, your iguana. Or, as you like to refer to him, your teaching assistant. His claws plunge into his food dish, copper-colored eyes scrutinizing his surroundings. Abby watches as the reptile chows on the fruit and foliage left for breakfast.

Sitting in the chair opposite your desk is Mike Schmidt. Sweat beads on his forehead, ineluctably distressed beneath your gaze. The suit he wore for this occasion juts uncomfortably into his skin. His fingers fidget with the trim of his tie. He looks at the woven basket of exotic butters sitting on your desk, wondering why he had gotten you such an aimless gift.

Mike is quiet, as usual. Austere, his permanent disposition. Despite his tireless efforts to express his thoughts to you, the words remain nestled in his throat. Conjuring any syllable in your presence is impossible.

You, however, do not have any wavering confidence. You reiterate the legal documents obligatory for Abby's complete transition to a new school. Noting how all necessities are now in your possession (albeit languidly, as Mike has been painfully trying to buy more time here), the relocation was complete. The obvious insinuation of your words, however, brings crippling dread like no other.

The last time you would ever see one another. Your goodbye.

Standing to your feet, you make your way to Abby and bend down beside her. You will miss your star student, as you have a soft spot for all the children in your classroom. In the process, you do not take notice of the way Mike instinctively reaches out to you. He's sure your touch would kill him, but it does not stop him from wishing for it. Even just a sliver of the precious rarity.

"I think Mr. Cupcake is going to miss you." Abby looks at you with wide, curious eyes.

"Don't tell the others, but you're definitely his favorite." That earns you a smile before she averts her attention back to the iguana.

When you stand, you find Mike breathing down your neck. Horrifically, as this memory still haunts him, he thought it'd be a good idea to hug you. And he practically throws his entire body weight on top of you. When you reject him by placing your hand on his chest, offering a handshake instead, fire spreads with your touch. Knowing he will never know what it feels like to hold you close to him is more excruciating than he is willing to admit.

Abby skips out of the classroom, an adorable pep in her step. At the same time, every step Mike takes from you feels like walking through an avalanche. Dragging him backward, begging to return to you. Almost as if it were his instinct, his body is trying to reject his advances of leaving you.

"Why do you always look at them like that? Like... Like they're a dinosaur or something?"

Abby's question causes Mike's brows to furrow. His feelings for you were certainly discernible. Even his young sister had taken notice of the odd behavior. Had he made it that obvious? He answers her with a weak, affirmative grunt. Too emotionally fatigued to find words to speak.

A sudden flare of biliousness deluges through his body. The hallway walls adorned with children's paintings have morphed into a colorful blur of vertigo. The floors disturbingly stretch in size, making the journey away from you all the more torturous. The suit he had tried to wear confidently sticks to his hot skin. Nausea squirms in his stomach like a dying cockroach. The room begins to spin, lights sway in his vision, and his knees fight for balance.

Mike hears his sister shriek his name before he falls to the ground.

One year later, Mike wakes from this same dream, once again.

Every night of this past year, he has dreamt the same thing. Your final goodbye and the sheer impact it took on him. It is a gut-wrenching memory, but he welcomes the echo of you with open arms. To feel your hand on his chest, see your eyes looking into his. This yearning heartache is the only thing keeping him alive.

For the umpteenth time, Mike faces the harsh, violent reality of his current life. Now, he is somewhere in Utah. Praying straight to God he'll somehow wake up back in Nebraska. Where he could see you again, where he could be happy again.

Tearing the headphones of his Walkman off, the song he had played on repeat comes to an end. He rubs his sleepy eyes. With newfound clarity, Mike shifts his gaze upwards. Taped to the ceiling is a drawing Abby drew. It's of you and him beneath a flowery altar, Mr. Cupcake as your marriage officiant. The picture aids him in his efforts to feel closer to you.

Mike doesn't even know how he survived seeing the drawing for the first time. Someone else validating his feelings for you and the realness of your nonexistent relationship was too much for him to handle. Even if it is a child doing so through a frivolous drawing.

When Mike shuffles over to place his Walkman on the bedside table, he skims over the assortment of clutter left there. Several bottles of sleeping medication had been indolently thrown onto the surface. The pills help his dreams feel more real, as though he were at your side once again.

A glance over, Mike's heart wrenches at the sight of the picture frame. Beside the mess of pills is a photograph of you he had torn from Abby's yearbook. As if you were watching over him while he slept, reaching out to him in the presence of his dreams. It's a comforting thought of his, to imagine you watching over him. Like his personal guardian angel.

Surely, he would prefer to have you physically with him, instead of just relying on these fantasies to hold him over. His stomach flutters at the mere idea of you being in his bed with him. Mike feels empty without your warm weight beside him.

Laying against his chest, huddling up to him for an early-morning cuddle before the day starts. He would ensnare his blanket around your still-sleeping form. He'd press ardent kisses to the top of your head and inhale the aromatic scent of your signature soap. Massaging his hands across your back. Caressing the balmy flesh of your body. It is the physical manifestation of nirvana brought directly into his palms.

Mike shakes the thoughts out as quickly as they come. So cheesy... What on Earth is he doing?

Although he has tossed around the idea of giving in and leaving Abby in their aunt's care, what kind of man would you think him as if he abandoned his family? And if he were to take Abby back to Nebraska, Social Services would surely hunt him down. The mere idea of being locked behind a prison cell is terrifying, but the prospect of never seeing you again provokes terror like no other.

Mike's head pounds as these thoughts haunt him. Reveries of brighter days in your presence, trepidation of being separate from you forever — this is how every morning usually begins. His dreams nestled in a nightmare. The chaos in his head brings him to where this story had begun altogether.

February. Two months before the last time he would ever see you.

Jane had demanded Abby live with her in Utah, threatening legal action in the process. Mike had no other choice but to succumb to her orders. It had begun as a minor inconvenience, considering his life in Nebraska was futile to begin with. However, it would soon become the worst decision he has ever made. He knows he should have fought harder, but Mike hadn't met you until after he verified their relocation. It wasn't until he had stepped foot into your classroom for the very first time had he realized the weight of his mistake.

With the start of his shift at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza approaching, he struggled to bring these rampant thoughts to rest. Resentfully, Mike rises from his bed. The sun has begun to set and his unsatisfactory power nap has come to an end. He trudges over to the foot of his bed and begins his usual set of push-ups. Triggering adrenaline through his body is essential to his daily routine. It helps ease his brain from all the chaos. An area he is in dire need of assistance.

For a moment, his thoughts are blank. It is such an oddity, that Mike is left stunned. Having a silent mind is a privilege that is unknown to him.

And just when he thought he had found coherence, the memory of you comes sprinting at him from the shadows. Mere seconds of emptiness pass before thoughts of you invade his mind.

A week after your final goodbye.

His disposition has suffered from a harsh descent since then. Mike is now irritable and aggressive to anyone who even faintly nudges his buttons. Snapping like a feral dog. Rough like a calloused hand.

Acknowledging weakness has never been his strong suit, but Mike is not a fool when it comes to how he feels around you. The overwhelming nerves stirred together with unwavering devotion make for a sugary-sweet, poisonous concoction. Something he could get drunk off for years to come.

Although his mind is stained in consideration, he cannot storm through the school doors and take you with him to Utah. Merely standing in your presence is enough to make him stop breathing. Contriving an abduction, one that includes you, no less, would fail miserably. And as he stated before, the prospect of being stuck behind bars and never seeing you again provokes terror like no other.

So, he gives in. He resentfully gives in to what his Aunt Jane wants and goes about his life.

There was only two more weeks before he'd leave his job as security at the mall forever. Mike meanders through the large expanse, actively averting his gaze from all the happy couples. Hands held together, eyes brimming with adoration, feeding each other ice cream. It never fails to make him bitter, which he prefers to assume it is because of how sappy the sight is.

He wonders what flavor of ice cream is your favorite, the look in your eye as he feeds you a spoonful. What kind of sweet words you'd give him and the way you'd blush when he drowns you in adoration. Within the safety of his mind, he has molded himself into the man of your dreams. You will just have to look past all the sweat and nerves to find him.

A flicker of movement captures his attention. Something strangely familiar in his peripheral. When he turns, his breath gets caught in his chest.

His wide eyes stare at you. Standing alone across the mall.

All Mike can do is gawk. Like a newly-born fawn, staring goggle-eyed and weak-kneed as he takes in the sight of the world for the very first time. A gasp of your name parts from his lips. He sways in his stance like a boat on the sea, his body melts like snow beneath the sunlight. Stood still in place, he feels that familiar sense of light-headedness return. He embraces the dizziness as a comfort, this time around.

Mike could almost laugh at this. At the same time, he could cry his heart out.

Of course, your roads would intersect. Of course, you would find each other in the end. Even when he had fully accepted he would never see you again, you return to him. Like a cloud of happier days, here to hide the torment for all.

And then, he's interrupted.

Walking uninvited into the scene is a stranger. A man approaches you, daring to drape his arm around your shoulder. Mike's eye twitches as he watches. The stranger then plants a kiss on your cheek, something Mike has wished to do since the first time he stepped foot in your classroom. With this man's hands all over you, the two of you begin to walk away.

The word "heartbroken" was something Mike had never felt before. It was something he never understood. He only heard of the word through brainless movies, where he swore he'd never let himself fall apart like the dumb characters do. At this moment, however, that term is stamped all over him in thick ink. A vivid exhibition of all the good and bad you have done to him.

Without another thought, Mike takes a step. Then another. Before he is breaking into a full sprint toward the love of his life and the parasite latched onto them. It's as if a puppeteer was controlling him, grasping hold of his spine and snatching a fistful of nerves. He shoves past any shoppers in his way, a few losing balance and falling to the floor. His speed accelerates with every hastening step, growing closer and closer.

The stranger looks over his shoulder a second too late before he is tackled. The two fall into an adjacent fountain with a loud clamor. Mike's fist clenches, before it surges down into his face. Then, he does it again and again and again.

Again. Again. Again.

And again.

Grunting like an animal, Mike can't stop himself.

Fuck you. Fuck you.

Fuck you.

Don't you ever fucking touch them.

It is blinding, how enraged he is. In a mess of blood and water. The mere thought of someone laying a finger on you boils red-hot rage like he has never felt before.

Someone ensnares their arms around him and drags him away from the mess he created. When the splashing water eases down to calm ripples, he finally looks over to you to ensure your safety and- who is that? A different person is standing there, utter horror plastered on their face as they watch the scene play out.

They have the same height, the same clothes, almost the same everything. But, now that Mike is able to scrutinize who he thought to be you, he realizes he was completely wrong. He had only formed a desperate personification of you from memory. What has he done?

The dread is soul-crushing as the weight of his mistake crushes him. Other bystanders watch in shock. Mike's fists are bruised red, his clothes are wet and stained with blood. What on Earth was he thinking!? All he ever wanted was to protect you! To protect you from men like that!

Mike's vision doubles and his body shivers. All he ever wanted was to protect you. The only thing he can think about is you and the sheer devastation you have rained down into his life.

This memory playing through his head is abruptly cut short. Mike is then forcefully shoved back into reality when his hand slips during his set of push-ups. He falls face-first into the carpet, grumbling from the harsh contact.

It is a vile memory to have, as it is the reason he lost his job at the mall and truly eradicated any chance of staying in Nebraska. However, it showed him how irrevocably devoted he is to you. How the feelings he has for you are completely and utterly real. Someone like him, who prides himself in being aloof and controlled, was capable of causing such calamity. All for your safety.

It was a terrifying revelation, but it soothed him in a way he had never felt before.

Michael Schmidt needs you.

And unfortunately, his feelings are not powerful enough to stretch into physical reality. Even though it feels as though they are capable of doing so, they cannot mold the world to bring him back to you. They cannot protect him from the inevitability of leaving his home and being dragged to Utah.

Now, he stands at the entrance of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Ivy grows amongst the bricked walls. Bright paint fades from years of neglect. Mike breathes in the scent of midnight brume as he unlocks the doors, trying once more to rid his brain of the thought of you.

The flashlight in his hands illuminates the inside of the pizzeria. Specks of dust permeate the air. Flashy arcade games are riddled with age. Toys on the prize shelf are covered in a blanket of cobwebs. The once gaudy carpets are caked with dirt. And those God-awful animatronics still stand on that rickety stage. Mike takes note of all these little things with a sigh. If this place was still alive today, he knows you'd adore taking your students here.

As his nights have been spent for the last year, he walks through the dilapidated establishment as usual. On the desk is a stack of chunky monitors displaying several angles of the pizzeria. The "CELEBRATE!" poster on the wall mocks him. He plops down on the adjacent swivel chair. The old fabric peels and the wheels whine from his weight.

Unzipping his ragged backpack, he grasps hold of the book he had taken with him, Dream Theory. Adjusting the headphones of his Walkman on his head, Mike then flicks the dog-ear over and resumes his reading.

God only knows how many times he has read this damned book. And every time he rereads it, he prays he can somehow find an anecdote for this torment. A magic step-by-step guide that will bring him back to you.

Despite perusing this book from front to back, he still searches for more. He hates being awake. He'd much rather be asleep, where he can return to you. Any second not spent with you, even if the moment is not tangible, is a second gone to waste. No matter what the circumstances are, he could only ever wish to be with you.

Lethargy hits Mike like a slap across the face. The book in his hands is now reminiscent of a brick. The song that plays on repeat in his Walkman soothes him like a mother's lullaby. All of these sensations embrace Mike; they pacify his brain and body of any unease. And with a few more leveled breaths, Dream Theory falls from his hands and he drifts off.

With a beat, he's woken up with a sharp gasp. This time, however, he does not awaken in the same dingy pizzeria. He finds himself sitting at a picnic table. Located in the very same forest he had lost his brother years ago.

Looking down, Mike finds he is dressed in the same hunter-green sweater and jeans stained with grass. His eyes scan around the expanse, searching for the faces of his family. He cannot find his mother, his father, nor Garrett. No one. Everything is to no avail.

There's a shuffle from behind him. He looks, only to find swaying trees and fluttering birds. And then, a voice.

"I'm sad to see you both go." The familiar cadence has Mike's head snapping back forward. He is struck with desperation.

There you are, sat across from him at the picnic table.

If it weren't for the campgrounds you were both at, this moment would be identical to when he first met you. In that same classroom, on that same day. Every mannerism and timbre of your voice is a picture-perfect copy of that moment. Same look in your eye, wearing the same clothes and bead bracelets your students made for you. Same everything.

It is a precious memory. To sit here with you feels so real, as though the heavens had answered Mike's prayers and brought him back to you.

"Abigail has always been a stellar student. I have no doubt she'll flourish in her new school."

Your smile makes his heart sink. Everyone always looks at him with anger. Not you, though. You're different.

"She does have a tendency to keep to herself. But, I think she'll adapt well to the new environment." He remembers every word from your mouth.

The emotions he was struck with when he first met you come back in a near-fatal rush. Irrepressible tension and rapture plunge through the barrier of his flesh. Practically a duplicate of the exact memory.

Going to a standard school meeting for his sister was an event Mike intended to do briefly. Getting it over as quickly as possible is his standard approach to most if not all, aspects of his life. This day, however, he was thrown in a whirlpool when he found himself wishing to stay with you. Leaving you felt like something he could not bear to endure.

Mike is abnormally pale, drenched in sweat, and mere seconds from passing out. You place your hand on his arm, inquiring him about if he was feeling alright. Hook, line, and sinker. Your mere touch sent him charging away from any perceived sanity he once possessed.

The strictly platonic concern you had for his well-being is addicting. To a point where Mike abandons all morals to indulge in these newfound feelings you give him. Once a poised man has now been reduced to a gooey puddle of sheer fervor.

All he can do is nod in response, completely entranced by the sight before him. You take his assurance hesitantly, before reaching into a basket of children's toys beside your desk. As this memory usually plays out, you retrieve a bear plushie. You then tell him of how it is Abby's favorite to play with and how you wish to gift it to her before your final goodbye. He agrees, of course. Nodding once more to compensate for his inability to speak.

In these woods, however, you show him that orange toy plane his brother treasured. His gaze remains latched to you as stand from the picnic table and walk away. To his utmost surprise, you then bend down beside Garrett. When you present him with the plane, he accepts your gift with childlike elation. He is quick to abandon his recent endeavors in favor of playing with his new toy.

You stand on foot, watching with an adoring smile as the young boy takes off. Mike watches you. An emotional, muddled intensity in his eyes.

"This isn't... This isn't how it happened... This isn't real." In his state of confusion, Mike has found the ability to speak.

He captures your attention and your gaze reverts to him. In response, his mouth goes dry and all coherent thought vanishes. Just one look from you and his entire capacity to speak is robbed, once again.

"But, it could be... It's what you want, isn't it?"

You are correct. You have always been veracious and that attitude does not fail now.

So despairingly, Mike wants this with you. To raise Abby and Garrett together, he can only imagine the wonderful people they'd become under your care. Maybe you and him could even bring a few more beautiful lives into this world. He can only imagine how exultant his own life would become if this dream turned into reality.

The rest of his life would be spent with you in Nebraska, just like this. Mornings and nights spent together at the dining table, all delicious laughter and nourishing meals. He'll even let you bring that lizard, too!

Playing frivolous games in the backyard until the sun sets, dressing in ridiculous costumes to take the kids trick-or-treating, and helping them blow out the candles for every birthday cake. Hell, he'll endure the sweltering temperatures and screaming kids at Disneyland. Only if you're there with him.

And maybe after the bedtime stories and last tuck-ins goodnight, you and him can occupy yourselves with other activities. Mike is no stranger to these kinds of fantasies, after all.

You wouldn't fail Abby and Garrett. Not like he did. You could all be a family. Exactly like he has always wanted.

For a moment, Mike had forgotten how his life had inevitably turned out. He was so warped in the domestic bliss he could have with you, that he didn't anticipate how the next chapter of his life would manifest in this dream.

You are tackled to the ground. You fight, you kick, you scream — you do everything in your strength to get the man off of you. The very same man who took Garrett all those years ago.

Not a picosecond passes before Mike picks himself up, rushing to your safety. He intends to beat the man to a bloody pulp. His sole purpose on Earth is to protect you and ensure your safety, after all. In his efforts, his foot gets caught against the legs of the picnic table, sending him to the dirt floor. Mike is quick to scramble to his feet. His heart races a mile a minute; his eyes are blown wide in crazed worry.

When he stands, he finds that somehow within the few seconds spent on the ground, you had been shoved into the back of a car. You bang your fists against the rear window, pleading for him to rescue you. And that, Mike desperately tries to do.

He sprints after you in a blind, blurred panic. The sudden, swift movement of his body is painful, as though needles poke and prod at his skin. It is all he can see, hear, feel, think of. Losing you and the gut-wrenching devastation that would inevitably follow.

The car begins to accelerate faster and faster. His running pace gets slower with every step forward. Mike tries, God, he fucking tries, but you slip away from him like sand between his fingers. Just the same as it was when he lost his brother.

With his speed receding, his body loses all mobility and he cannot bear to run anymore. The harsh punt of his body falling to the ground pulls a grunt out of his throat. Mike whispers mantras of "I'm sorry," hoping that you can somehow hear his pleas. He prays that by some miracle, the man who took you will have a change of heart and bring you back. Sobs plunge through his chest. The misery seeps in like water leaking through a weak dam.

Consciousness comes back to him all too suddenly. A loud yell of your name erupts from him and echoes through the security room. Mike plummets from his desk chair and splats against the ground. His mind is still plagued by that scene, he is still racing to save your life.

Cold sweat drips from his head. His hands shake with a terrified tremor. He hyperventilates, as though he had escaped the depths of the ocean and were inhaling fresh air for the first time. Mike weakly props himself up against the desk, trying to calm himself.

An entire year of agony. Over 365 days of absolute Hell. Living without you has tortured him in ways he never thought was possible.

Sitting here on the filthy floor of this old pizzeria, Mike finally waves his white flag. He has given up. He cannot do this anymore. It is more than he can handle.

And without so much as another breath, Mike springs into action.

Max is surprised to see him back home so early. Flustered and ridden with sweat, Mike explains how there is an emergency at work and he needs her to watch Abby longer. She obliges and accepts the hefty pay he shoves into her hands. He is driving away before she can process what has just occurred.

The song he plays every night in his Walkman blares from the car radio. Your song. The idea brings him ephemeral ease. A dash of excitement.

This is what his life is supposed to be and if all goes well, it's what it will be in mere hours. Mike's foot slams harder against the gas, doing what he should have done long ago.

All he has to do is explain himself. Surely, you will listen and understand this is for the better. You will see through all his stuttered words and irrepressible nerves. You will taste the sickeningly sweet devotion dripping from his mushy, candied heart. Surely, you will understand this is all for you. And of course, you will love him, too.

Hours pass like gusts of wind. The welcome sign of Nebraska passes in a flash. Mike remembers the route like the back of his hand. He'd never forget the roads that lead back to you, after all.

Dawn is moments from rising. The sky is a dark blue, covered in blotches of dark, orange sunshine. Mike pulls into the parking lot of your school where only one car is present. Yours. And of course, he parks directly beside you. The prospect of being close to you, even with something as negligible as this, sends a hot shiver coursing through his body.

Mike tries to soothe himself as he lets out a shaky breath. A heavy trepidation is nestled in his stomach, still mixed with that crisp excitement. Sweat cascades down his face. His dark, curly hair sticks to his forehead. Nothing can stop these feelings. He may try, but his scattered heartstrings stubbornly remain ensnared around his throat.

When he stands, he has to latch onto the roof of his car to catch his balance. Any passerby would think he was drunk. Being at an elementary school would certainly not help his case, either. Fortunately, the only people here are you and him. No one else. Just the way it is supposed to be.

The path leading to you is familiar. The trees blossoming, the chalk drawings on the sidewalk, and the scent of the early-morning breeze. It reminds Mike even more of how much he missed you.

His wet palms grasp the handles of the front entrance. He pulls, only for the door to remain locked in place. A few more desperate tugs and he watches as his ploy peels apart from the seams. The consideration of breaking down the door is only present momentarily, before any and all function of his is cut short.

The door is unlocked and opened. Stood at the threshold is you.

And with more intensity than Mike had anticipated, the euphoria only you are capable of conjuring comes rushing back.

"Good morning!" is all you say. Your expression is cheerful. Kind. Gorgeous, as you always are. Exactly the way he remembered.

Now that you are finally here, Mike cannot fathom how he had survived so long without you. The pieces of you sprinkled throughout his life are brought to revelation. Your name carved into his bones, your warmth threaded through his veins, your breath stirred with his every word. It is as terrifying as it is exhilarating. The fact he had not collapsed upon making mere eye contact with you is a miracle in of itself.

"Oh! Are you the new security guard? I wasn't aware we were getting a new hire." You break the silence, referring to the yellow "SECURITY" stamped on his vest.

You...

You don't remember me?

The words don't manage to escape him. Instead, you send him into a state of stupor.

The impact your words have on him is nothing short of surreal. When Mike had memorized every sliver of you down to the tilt of your jaw and the curve of your spine, you had forgotten him entirely. For the year he spent longing for you, he was merely a bystander in the background. An apparition within your mind. You do not remember him. And no words in the English language could express the lethal heartbreak.

It has rendered Mike speechless and his inability to speak fills you with unease.

"Please, come in." Opening the door further, you try and usher him inside. All you wish to do is escape this conversation and the fervid eyes of this stranger.

Gaze still glued to you, he grasps hold of the door handles. His unconscious brain still decides to take the weight off of you. Mike has no choice now, he must convince you to stay with him. To beg you to choose him, to remind you of everything you once had with each other. To show you what losing you has done to him.

When you turn and walk away, he tries to find his voice. Mike wants to express all of this to you, but his efforts are futile. He is frozen and can only watch as you leave him again. The opposite direction of your classroom, this time. Towards the office. Most likely to ensure he was actually in the system.

Mike does not take this choice of yours for granted. Gathering up whatever morsel of strength is still left in him, he takes a few wobbly steps. He stumbles through the dark hallways, clutching his hand over his heart as he walks. His rampant heartbeat does not calm itself, no matter his attempts to soothe it.

Upon practically collapsing into your classroom, a flare of fleeting ease envelops Mike. To be surrounded by you is absolute ecstasy. Paradise is personified through flamboyant decorations and the scent of strawberries and books.

He scans every detail of your classroom. The new drawings on the wall, the jumble of recently purchased toys. He sees the new changes you have made in the past year and is shattered to know you were not thinking of him at all. As opposed to every second of his life being enmeshed with you.

Mike soon finds your desk. The first and last place he had ever truly felt happiness. On the surface, some of your clutter had been left behind. Too cute. A colorful planner had been left open to this exact date. A few papers are sat to the side, where students' assessments are in the process of being graded. Most important of all, your thermal scattered with stickers sits on a pained coaster.

Mike knows he should not consider it, no less think about it. You just need to be reminded, that's all.

With a paranoid glance at the door, he takes the orange bottle of sleeping pills from his backpack. He swiftly pours out several onto the desk. Then, he takes a stapler you had left out of reach from children's sticky fingers, crushing the thin white circles into a chunky powder. Your thermal opens with a quiet pop! and Mike pours the residue into your drink. He uses the straw to stir it around for effective measure, trying to ignore the incessant urge to take your straw for... personal use.

A storage closet resides right behind him. Mike leaves everything on your desk as it once was and is swift to hide inside. He leaves the door open a mere creak, within perfect distance to watch his plan unfold.

The minute without you feels torturous, as though it had lasted a millennia. When the aching sound of silence is filled by a creaking door, his heart practically plummets. Through the small peep, you enter his field of vision. You trot over to the iguana enclosure. Saying a quick hello to Mr. Cupcake, before making your way to your desk. Oblivious to the uninvited guest just inches away.

You take a sip from your thermal. Mike cannot find air to breathe or the ability to function.

You take another. This is actually happening.

One more sip. Your pen scribbles on your planner.

You take a sip. It is a blessing straight from God you cannot hear the hyperventilated breaths behind you.

Then, another sip. Holy shit, this is actually happening.

As you work, you reach over to grab some sticky notes. Your elbow accidentally nudges your pen, causing it to fall from your desk and roll across the floor. You stand to retrieve it with a grumble before a sudden wave of lethargy envelops you. It is all too sudden and acute. You have to lean on the edge of your desk to stable yourself.

Before you can question the sudden fatigue, your body fails you. When you inevitably fall, Mike is quick to catch you. Hell, his arms were around you before your legs even wobbled. Slowly, and with loving attentiveness, he guides your limp body to the ground. The adrenaline inside him is so penetrating, that he does not have a moment to process the fact he is touching you.

With you fully unconscious, Mike knows exactly where he'll be heading next. Only now, he'll have an additional passenger with him.

He secures your unconscious form into the back seat of his car. Fastening your seatbelt and triple-checking they are in proper function. Mr. Cookie, or whatever his name is, is in the front seat within his cage. Moving his enclosure and necessities from your classroom was a hassle, as told by the bite mark on Mike's hand. For you, though, he would endure far worse.

With the birds beginning to sing, there is little time before the world wakes up and his intentions are jeopardized. Mike drives off before anyone can see what he has done. Not even he has fully processed what he has done.

Leaving your car, your home, and your life behind, he begins the treacherous and exciting journey back to Utah.

Every car that passes has him gripping the wheel tighter, foot reader to slam harder on the gas. He had already lost you once, he cannot lose you again. Mike does not play music, either. The sounds of your breathing is his new favorite harmony.

He casts a glance in the rear-view mirror every now and then. You're draped among the back of the car, cocooned in the numerous blankets he brought for this trip. Beneath the windows, your head is rested against a fluffy pillow. He even snuggled a few plushies into your arms. The sight is so gut-wrenchingly adorable, Mike nearly crashes the car with how painfully distracting the sight of you is.

This was the state he stayed in for the first several hours of the drive. Mindless driving on freeways, checking on you (as well as continuously cooing over your cuteness), and holding his breath whenever he passes through busy areas or cops. Then, he gets knocked off course.

With blurred vision, you can barely discern where you are.

Sunlight makes you squint. Your mind is messy. You can hear the rumble of a car engine, feel the vibration against your form. The blankets wrapped around you are suffocating. You peel them off from your body, a few random stuffed animals fall to the car floor when you do so.

Mike nearly snaps his neck with how fast he turns around. His efforts to take you away were frivolous, yes, but he was sure he had given you enough pills to sleep through the trip.

"Hey, you're okay. Y-You're okay. Everything's gonna be okay. Okay? Just don't freak out... Please don't freak out."

You do the opposite of what he advised. Little by little, the pieces begin to click together. Panic settles in your stomach like a fresh sheet of snow. Hyperventilating breaths leave your shaking body, accentuated by your frightened whimpers. Who is this man? What the fuck is going on? Tears stream down your face with every question that litters your mind. And every cracked sob you let out is a fatal strike to your assailant's fragile heart.

Mike is quick to comfort you, as you can always count on him to do such. And how badly he wishes to climb into the back seat himself and hold you close. Everything he is doing is for the better, you must know that. As scary as this all may seem for you, he will do whatever it takes to convince you of this truth.

He reaches his hand back to soothe you, only succeeding in the opposite when you cower away from his touch. Mike cannot hide how poignant your rejection is, he is shocked he hadn't broken down into tears alongside you.

"... Are you going to hurt me-?"

"I would never."

He answers without a sliver of hesitation. Your shattered, sugar-sweet voice absolutely destroys him.

The weight of his declaration is so immense that you could almost believe him. You should believe him, as he only tells the utter truth. The fact you have been drugged and shoved into the backseat of a stranger's car, however, convinces you otherwise.

Looking through the window, you take note of the rural area you're in. Nothing but miles of trees to comfort you. No distinct landmarks to help you navigate your location.

Mike oscillates between looking at you and the road. While he's occupied with the road ahead, you take action before thinking thoroughly. Sweltering blankets torn off of your body, you unfasten your seatbelt as silently as you can. You mentally prepare yourself for the turmoil up ahead. Then, within a matter of a single second, you unlock the car door and jump.

Debris slices into you as you fall deeper into the forest. The world becomes a blurred frenzy of trees and cloudy skies. Your frail body is drowsy from the drugs still pumping through your system. Your ribs ache, your ears ring, and you are covered in gashes. Still, survival is the only prospect present in your brain. You pick yourself up from the dirt and dash forward. Never looking back.

April puddles and fallen pinecones ruin your expensive work shoes. Fresh flowers are squished beneath your steps. There is no path you intend to take, you only wish to get as far as you can from that man. Poison ivy and low-hanging branches slash at your skin. You do not think, you only push and push and push. Anywhere away from him.

The second you had opened that car door, Mike slammed down on the brakes. The scream of your name hurts his throat from the sheer volume. To see you jump, leaving him again, sparked fear like no other. He does not even bother to turn off the car or close the door before he is racing after you. He cannot lose you again. He can't, he can't, he can't.

Mike barrels into the forest like a feral animal. He is met with a terrifying sense of déjà-vu. He's seen this movie before, he's heard this song a million times. This dream has haunted him forever. Just when he is inches from touching salvation, you will be snatched away from him. And he will have to watch as his life crumbles before his very eyes.

His legs grow heavier with every step. He screams for you until his voice goes raw. His lungs feel as though they may collapse into themselves. Still, his efforts to find you do not falter. You would have to kill him if you wished to keep him away from you.

A tree branch crunches.

Mike stops dead in his tracks. Listening.

There's a pained whimper. Quiet amongst the soft winds.

He dashes toward the sound. Swift in surging through the steep hills and overgrown forestry in his path.

While you were running, you failed to notice a protruding tree root. When your foot hooks beneath it and sends you tumbling to the ground, you try and scramble to your feet. However, the burst of adrenaline that had gotten you this far could not combat the lethargy still in your body. You lay on your back, exasperated with debility. Entirely paralyzed.

"Y/N! Oh, thank God!" Mike collapses beside you, all while you stare at the stranger in utter terror.

Dirt and sweat paint his body. Eyes blown wide and crazed, his hands reach for you. Fearfully searching for any wounds. One hand cradles your face, caressing your skin with his thumb. The other rests against your hairline, petting the expanse with tender intent. Cries of both relief and terror fill the empty silence. To lose you all over again is a horrifying prospect he cannot fathom the weight of.

"N-... No..." Your voice is weak. Barely able to crawl out of your mouth.

Fingers latched into the mud, you try to drag your body away from this maniac. Mike brings your attempts to a halt, hands still latched onto your body.

"I'll be good, Y/N, I will... Just-Just stay with me!"

Your assailant does not listen to your feeble demands. Instead, Mike wraps his arms around your torso. Further ensnaring you in his locked embrace. He buries his face into your neck and rocks your body back and forth. Trying to soothe you into another slumber. His sniffles are overpowered by his sharp inhales of breath. Consuming your scent.

"You're not leaving me. You're not fucking leaving me!" Mike bawls out.

He is now a complete mess. Face twisted with ugly sobs. All hot tears and running snot.

"Just sleep now, okay? I'm right here..."

Blunt nails dig into your shoulder blades. His weight on top of you is suffocating. Please just love him and never leave him. That is all he could ever ask for, all he could ever want. He has spent so long without the one he loves most, he cannot bear to ever part from them ever again.

With a choked groan, Mike lifts your limp body from the ground. Sniffling reassurances echo as you reach a state of unconsciousness. He lifts you over his shoulder and your body loses all mobility. As he takes you away, your mind fades into a peaceful rest. Escaping is now a pipe dream.

Faint sounds of shuffling are what you're next awoken to. Pipes bang and thump. It is far more quiet than your last conscious encounter.

Darkness pervades your vision. Your body feels weightless, as though you are floating through a dream. You cannot move, no matter your efforts to try. As if your limbs had been glued to the fluffy expanse you've been laid upon. All you are capable of doing is releasing a guttural moan of disdain from the back of your throat.

"Easy, cub. Easy now."

No.

The voice is fluffy and easy. Horrifyingly familiar.

This can't be real; this can't be reality. This cannot be what your life becomes: rotting away in this stranger's embrace.

You were granted several mere seconds of solitude before hands were on your body, once again. The grasp lifts your body, to where your assailant sits behind you and rests your back against his chest. His efforts are gentle. Comforting. Though, the movement still has you wincing in discomfort. You hadn't anticipated how many injuries you had given yourself.

Speckles of your sight return in short spurts. There is light against the darkness, everything is gold. Drowned in the hues of candlelight scattered around the room. The glow is cast against a fuzzy expanse, to where you could almost convince yourself you were in a dream. And my God, do you wish it was.

You miss the rich, headache-inducing colors of your classroom. The judging stares of other parents who drowned their homes in beige decor never felt more comforting. You miss the screeching children with their constant need for attention. Their dramatic tears and obnoxious attitude would bring you peace like no other.

Mike plants his chin against your shoulder and all you can think about is the beautiful life you have lived until this point. His arm slithers across your torso, tightening with vehement need. It is loving in the most suffocating manner. You then hear a bottle unscrew through static noise. shushes you as he presses the lid against your lips. Water cascades into your mouth and down your dry throat, all while Mike presses impassioned kisses to your temple.

"There you go. Very good... You're perfect..." His tone is cordial as he ushers you to drink.

As much as you had tried to fight his attempts to give you water, it has fortunately provided you more clarity. The environment surrounding you fades into something more lucid.

You've been swaddled in a thick comforter. Soft and floral-scented, fresh out of the dryer. The king-size bed is at the end of the room and provides you with a clear view of everything. The lack of windows and decrepit staircase tucked in the corner tell you this is a basement. Soundproofed and locked up, your chances of escape are minimal. He does not want to let you go, that much is for certain.

Across the room is a chunky television. Movie cassettes sit in the cabinet supporting the television, where a newly purchased GameCube is left beside, as well. There's a bookshelf to your left, which is filled with old novels and children's books. Nothing was bought recently. Is there a child in this house? Lego sets and puzzle boxes are stacked next to the shelf. You come to the chilling assumption that it is intended to be something for you to occupy yourself with when he's gone.

Much to your satisfaction, Mike leaves from his spot behind you. He guides you back onto the pillow with romantic, loving ease. A gentle caress to your cheek before he goes. As if he was your doting husband taking care of you while you are ill.

When you look to your right, your heart accelerates when you find your iguana enclosure on top of a rickety table. Thank God he is alright! You do not know what you would do if this man had harmed Mr. Cupcake.

As words have failed you consistently, you whine out like a baby to express your wants. Your assailant's attention is back on you at record speed. The persistent need he has to ensure your comfort is almost pathetic. Teary-eyed and pouty, you reach for the enclosure holding your iguana.

Mike's body goes rigid. A gentle gasp emanates from him.

Are you... Are you reaching for him?

He practically throws himself back onto the bed. Sat beside your laying form, he almost can't bring himself to believe it. His deluded fantasies have bloomed into existence.

"Yes? What do you need, cub?" Please say him. Please say you need him like he needs you.

Mike looks at you and his eyes melt into candy. A gentle smile plastered on his face, he brings his finger up and boops you on the nose. Affectionate is his natural disposition. You're too fucking cute.

Mike had wasted an entire year without you. Too much time spent neglecting you of his love. Oh, you must have been so lonely without him. This is all he has wanted, after all. To take care of you. To take the weight off your shoulders and bring you ease like no other. He will spend the rest of his lifetime making up for the lost time. He would spend forever for you, slaving away to earn your forgiveness.

When you firmly establish what it is you actually want, no amount of sleeping pills in your thermal cup could stop you from seeing how defeated he is. Your rejection cuts like a dagger. Anyone can see this genuine fact. Still, Mike abides by your request. He'd tear mountains asunder for your happiness, after all.

Begrudgingly, he leaves your side. He opens the enclosure with struggle. Too many notches and slots. When he takes Mr. Cupcake into his hands, the iguana squirms and twists. Almost as if the reptile grasped what was happening. He propels his tail like a whip, reaching for the hands around him with his sharp teeth. His nails dig into whatever part of this stranger he can find.

When Mike plops him into your lap, Mr. Cupcake relaxes instantaneously. You snuggle him into your arms and are provided comfort from him, as well. His scaly flesh and jagged spine abrade your face, but you have never known a more soothing embrace. You plant a myriad of kisses and adoring nuzzles on Mr. Cupcake's skin. At the same time, you ignore the third wheel standing there.

Mike watches this and is nearly sick with want. Never in his life had he ever thought he'd wish to be an iguana this bad. The things he would give and the things he would take to be on the receiving end of your affections bridges off insanity.

Averting his gaze, he cannot watch the scene anymore. He had never expected to be so envious of a goddamn reptile. Mike grants you the time you want with that prickly bastard and leaves the basement. You hear the tumultuous clatter of all the locks and bolts being put into place once he is gone.

The time without Mike is something you do not take for granted. Silence is precious, solitude even more so. During his absence, you reel through the supercut of your life. You cannot find this man in any of your memories. You do not remember that face no matter how hard you try. He is the bad guy, the villain. The very definition of 'stranger-danger' you teach your students about.

When Mike returns, all of that disturbed turbulence comes with him.

In his hands is a cracked dinner plate with spaghetti and meatballs splat on top. The closer he gets, the faster your heart pumps. Setting the plate down on the bedside table, he takes your iguana from your tight hold. Mr. Cupcake still thrashes in his grasp, trying to bite and hit wherever he can. Good boy.

When the beast is locked away, Mike is idyllic to be alone with you again. He acts as though the current circumstances were romantic, where you and him are enjoying an amorous vacation. He then places the meal carefully in your lap, wary of the hot plate burning your precious skin.

"You need to eat, cub. You've been through so much. Too much." Mike's hand finds your face again, thumb caressing your cheek.

His mere words make you want to vomit your breakfast all over what is supposed to be your dinner. Still, you obey and begin eating. The dish is mediocre, at best. You've tasted better from the kitchen play set where your students wear chef hats and cook plastic food. Kidnapped and trapped in a basement, however, you'll take whatever scraps you can get.

Eyes glued to your plate, you do not watch as Mike takes a movie from the cabinet and pops it into the VCR. "The Immortal and the Restless" whirs to life as he returns to where you sit. Mike lays down beside you and joins you beneath the warm comforter. He takes the fork from your hands. A shiver cascades up his arm upon the faint contact made by your fingers touching. Oh, it is love. He then begins to feed you. There is nothing but sugary madness in his eyes.

Bite by bite, you are forced to watch soap operas and listen to nauseating love declarations.

"I was so alone out there without you, baby."

If only you hadn't been so fooled by a security vest and pretty brown eyes, you could be with your students right now. You could be free right now.

If only.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

❝ PRAYING STRAIGHT TO GOD THAT

MAYBE YOU'LL COME BACK AROUND . . . ❞

no one asked for this but idc hehe.

gif creds :: mike.

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beatificwrites · 5 months

Text

—you suck off sub!mike in his office ★

pairing: sub!mike schmidt x reader

content: porn w/o a plot, smut, no use of y/n, reader has grippable hair, oral male!receiving

“What’re you doing??” his brows furrowed at the feeling of your hand sliding into his inner thigh.

“Don’t mind me.” the corner of your lip curved up and your hand remained in place.

Mike’s doe eyes waltzed aimlessly around the TV monitor as he flicked through the noisy cameras. He was already tired of this stupid job.

Your fingers could not help themselves as they crept closer and closer to your boyfriend’s crotch. Once they had reached jackpot, your hand began to gently rub against his bulge.

A restrained moan slipped out from his mouth, “babe, not here. Not here…” he groaned as you gave him a soft squeeze.

“Pffffft!” you scoffed. “Nobody’s watching.” you proceeded to slowly fondle with his ever-growing bulge.

“Please, I can’t loose this job.” he begged as he clamped his hands on the arms of the chair, knuckles turning ivory white.

“Gosh, you’ve always been super sensitive.” you rolled your eyes and copped a light feel of his sack before unzipping his jeans.

You bit your lips unconsciously at the sight of his precum already seeping through his briefs. Your hand practically led itself up and down his hidden cock.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna cream yourself already.” you snickered.

Mike frantically shook his head, but his flushed cheeks gave himself away.

“You need to relax, baby.”

You dropped to your knees and spread his legs further apart for better room. Your hand returned to gently rubbing against his shaft and your ears peaked up at the sound of him steadily sucking in the air through his teeth.

He began to feel your delicate kisses sprinkle all over his dick. He had no option, but to clench his fist to hold back from spilling all of himself too soon for your liking.

His huge eyes watched every move you made, anticipating the next. Ready to get high off of whatever treat you were about to give him.

You admired from below as the man above was spiraling out of control by the second. You had not even put him in your mouth and he was already about to come undone.

“I can’t relax like this-oh god!” he immediately threw his head back as he felt himself spring free and your hand gripping his length. Your touch was enough to send him to the stars.

You took a moment to ogle at his massiveness. You figured it shape-shifts and adjusts to it whatever state its in because your brain still couldn’t comprehend how such a thing could be supported by him all day long.

“Fuck..” he breathed out once your wet lips wrapped around his cock. He laid further back on the office chair and pulled his hoodie and shirt up just a bit.

Your tongue swirled around his tip, before you took it back out and lazily slipped your tongue up and down his length. You took your sweet time coating him in your slobber, testing his patience; your fave thing to do.

You rubbed his thickness with one hand and rested the other on his stomach, particularly his happy trail.

His mumbled curses came to an abrupt stop as soon as you started bobbing your head. With his mouth agape he threw his head back and you sucked as tenderly as you possibly could.

He reached out to guide your head, placing his coarse fingers through your hair. The urge to shove and move you, so you could suck at the pace he wanted you to, was strong. However, he knew he better.

You relinquished his cock for a moment. “grab as much as you want, sweetheart.” you breathed out.

His eyes widened a little, not expecting that from you. You gave a faint smile, deciding he could have his way with you for once.

He clasped a chunk of your hair not a millisecond later; not roughly, yet not gently either.

You hollowed your cheeks and blew twice as hard. “Jesus Christ!” he whined, through gritted teeth, as he pushed you further down. He was seconds away from spilling all of his load into your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck..I can’t hold it anymore!” he wailed.

His eyes rolled far back as he felt the intense wave of pleasure wash over his body. His cum spat out non-stop and you graciously took every drop he had to offer. The amount was too much to bare and it would drizzle down the corner of your lips.

You licked the salty stickiness from your bottom lip. Mike marveled, in his disheveled state, at the scene below him. You looked so beautiful right now despite the fact that you had just sucked him off.

You sprung off your knees and shared the taste with him.

“How you like that?” you titled your head as you rasped out.

“mehhh.” he answered with lidded eyes.

You giggled, “you’re so cute.”

───────── ☆

#reader included #reader insert #x reader #mike schmidt #mike fnaf #fnaf #fnaf imagines #mike smut #mike schimdt x reader #mike schimdt imagine #mike schimdt x fem!reader #sub!mike schimdt #smut #18+ content #five nights at freddy's #x gender neutral reader #gender neutral language #x gn reader #mike schimdt smut

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keraxxx · 6 months

Text

nsfw thoughts/imagine: Mike Schmidt

Imagine you riding Mike and he’s just a moaning mess as he grips your hips, making sure you go at a good pace. He loves being inside you and he isn’t scared to let you hear him whimper. I can definitely imagine him saying

“Please.. let me cum inside you.”

“You feel so fucking good..”

“So good.. you’re perfect.”

Like just little rambles since he can’t think straight— like he’s being brainwashed by your “perfect cunt”

#mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt #smut #imagine #fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf imagines #mike schmidt fnaf #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson smut #josh hutcherson imagine

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brownbearwrites · 5 months

Text

I cocoon 'round your shoulders

mike schmidt x reader. no use of y/n, gender-neutral reader. read it on ao3 here.

mike loves to show you how appreciative he is of you. sometimes it's hard to do so without being interrupted. this is just something really sweet (and slightly suggestive) that I haven't been able to get out of my brain for the past few days.

The sun is slowly setting as you’re finishing up doing the dishes, washing away the final few soapy suds from a plate. Behind you, you hear Mike’s familiar soft footsteps enter the room, halting just behind where you’re standing in front of the sink. His arms wrap around your waist, his head resting in the crook of your neck.

“She’s asleep,” he mumbles.

You hum as you discard your dishwashing gloves in the sink, “she didn’t put up much of a fight today”.

“Well, the two of you did spend all day running around the house like madmen, so I’m not surprised that you managed to tire her out,” Mike jokes.

“Well, she did challenge me to a race, Mike. What was I supposed to do, just give up? You know, my momma didn’t raise a quitter,” you quip, brushing away a stray fleck of bubbles that had landed on your arm.

Mike chuckles, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “You’re good with her,” he says, his voice tender and deliciously deep.

“As are you,” you reply, turning around in his arms to face him, the kitchen counter digging into your lower back as you press a kiss to his lips.

Mike smiles against your lips, one of his hands reaching up to cradle your face. His thumb caresses the gentle swell of your cheek. You wind your arms around his neck, holding him close. You peer into his eyes, a wave of fondness washing over you. You kiss him again, feeling his stubble against your chin.

Mike deepens the kiss, his lips growing hungry against yours. His hand leaves its spot on your waist, brushing against the cool metal of the sink before coming to a rest on your ass. You let out an appreciative hum against his lips as his large hand caresses you.

You're just about to suggest taking things to the bedroom when, down the hallway, you both hear the telltale sound of Abby's bedroom door creaking open. You and Mike jump apart, both of your faces flushed as you fake normalcy. You reach back to the dishwashing gloves just as Abby steps into the kitchen, the damp rubber squeaking in your grip as you give her a smile.

The tired-eyed girl thankfully doesn't seem to notice the weird energy in the room, instead just yawning as she reaches for one of the freshly cleaned glasses on the kitchen counter.

“Got thirsty,” she mumbles as you grab the glass from Abby's hands, filling it up with water for her. You hand it back to her, watching her take several big gulps before setting the glass back onto the counter.

You glance back over at Mike, suppressing a smile at how pink his cheeks have grown. You put down the gloves once more, reaching down to softly ruffle Abby's hair.

“Alright,” you tell her, “let's get you back into bed”.

Your heart fills with warmth at the tenderness and domesticity of the moment, walking Abby back into her room before tucking her in and wishing her a good night. And that feeling of warmth only intensifies when you enter the kitchen again, knowing that Mike is more than eager to show you his appreciation.

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt fluff #fnaf imagines #mine

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minasvalentine · 6 months

Text

fnaf movie spoilers!!

his face literally said "and here we go"

#spoilers #five nights at freddy’s movie #fnaf #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #william afton #fnaf william afton #michael afton #purple guy #springtrap #matthew lillard #smut #smuttish #x reader #plot twist #villians #fnaf imagines

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itsbuckytm · 6 months

Text

Together. / Mike Schimdt

Authors Note : So I just happened to watch the FNAF movie and my god it was so good, with a hint of good Lore in it. Also the cast was perfect and ever since watching it, I had a thought of writing a quick one shot for Mike and Y/N. Where Y/N suffers from hallucination and has the same symptoms but a different kind of illness than Abby's. Suggesting that they see also the kids but also the man who's being everything, not only controlling them and their life styles, resulting in a lack of sleep pattern and tons of trauma.

Enjoy!

Ps : Pls don't repost or copy and paste my works. Everything is written by me, and also note that English isn't my first mother language, so I apologize in advance if there is any grammar errors. I tried my very best.

------------

From one call to another, Mike encountered an unending stream of repetitive "nos" and polite rejections for the position he sought. It dawned on him that he might be the source of the issue, especially after the peculiar "incident" that may have left a stranger somewhat shaken. A few days post-dismissal, someone finally directed him to visit the office of Steve Raglan, a man he had never met before. Today presented the perfect opportunity. Mr. Raglan fit the mold of a man from a bygone era, with his distinctive round glasses and traditional attire. Michael's growing apprehension made him wonder if venturing into this place had been a poor decision all along.

A hushed pause enveloped the room as Mr. Raglan perused Mike's professional background with casual interest. "Well, Mike..." He paused in the midst of his sentence, stealing a quick, appraising glance in his direction. Mike responded nonchalantly. "Yes?" His voice, however, lacked the self-assuredness he longed to convey.

"Care for some coffee?" Steve's inquiry was succinct yet brimming with anticipation as he strolled toward his coffee machine. Mike hesitated, then replied, "Um... No, thank you. I'd rather get this done quick." Deep down, Mike yearned for a stable job, one that would enable him to look after his sister, Abby, and perhaps even sway their aunt to grant them custody.

Steve sensed the growing impatience in his client, who was eager to learn what the future had in store. "You know," Steve remarked, returning to his chair, his voice now tinged with excitement – a side effect, Mike presumed, of his coffee intake. "I recognize this place. It's a place where someone like you would give anything for the job..." A spark of curiosity ignited within Mike as he leaned closer to Mr. Reglan, raising an intrigued brow. "And," Mike inquired. "what makes this place so special?" Steve paused briefly, carefully choosing his words. "Well, you see..."

Mike found himself utterly perplexed by the revelation before him. The location had not only been abandoned since the '80s but also, the job requirements were far from aligning with his original intentions. The compensation was dismal, and he couldn't help but suspect that perhaps none of the previous security guards had been paid properly either. Or not paid at all. It involved a shift he had no expertise in and had no intention of pursuing, particularly after having to bail on his babysitter to bring Abby with him. It was an unequivocal "No." He declared firmly, convinced that this man was even more cynical than he was.

"Are you absolutely certain? Your resume suggests you're more than capable for the position." Mr. Raglan made one final attempt to persuade, his features softening subtly from their earlier rigidity. However, Mike shook his head once more, resolute in his decision. He muttered briefly about the job being the primary source of his conflict, preventing him from seeing Abby or ensuring she had a decent meal, not to mention avoiding losing custody to his aunt. With determination, he rose from his chair, ready to leave the office. Just as Mike was about to exit, Steve handed him his business card, his demeanor marked by a slight pout, swiftly followed by a confident smile. "Just in case, take this," he suggested. Mike, though hesitating for a moment, accepted the card out of politeness and left the office without a word.

After his meeting with Mr. Raglan, Mike's quest for the ideal job seemed to come to an unfortunate conclusion. None of the places he had contacted before his appointment with the advisor, and none since, had offered him any promising prospects. He was beginning to contemplate that maybe accepting the night shift at this particular place was the most feasible option for now. If nothing else, it would provide him with a source of income, and the busy night hours might keep his mind occupied. What enticed him even more was the prospect of being his own boss, with no co-workers to influence his ever-present paranoia. This thought made him more determined than ever to give it a try.

On that very same day, as Abby engrossed herself in her beloved TV shows, Mike settled in to tackle his usual paperwork. It was a task he wasn't particularly fond of, especially considering how the bills seemed to climb higher with each passing month. Even though they were essentially the same, being currently unemployed gave him the impression that each payment had somehow inflated. Just as he was wrapping up his tax payments, a business card slipped through the paperwork, piquing his curiosity and triggering an unexpected flashback.

He hesitated for a moment, contemplating the significance of the card, and then made an impulsive decision. Michael picked up the card and dialed Mr. Reglan's number.

Silence greeted Mike on the other end of the line, as if Mr. Raglan had anticipated the need to give him some space before speaking. "Hello, Mr. Raglan, it's Mike." He began, slightly perplexed. Oddly enough, he could almost sense the man's smile from the other end of the call. It was a whimsical, knowing smile, as if the company had despaired of finding anyone willing to take on the position. Advising Mr. Raglan to take anyone who had agreed upon the offer. "The man who doesn’t do night shifts..."

“How may I help you?”

He hesitated for a moment, taking a deep gulp. Ultimately, if he hoped to secure some much-needed income by the end of the month, Mike felt he had no choice but to go for it. With trepidation, he inquired about the availability of the job position. Mr. Raglan's response was swift and affirmative, exuding a sense of warmth toward the young man's inquiry. Encouraged by this, Mr. Raglan asked, "So, from the seemingly random question, can I assume you are accepting to be the Night Guard? Is that correct?"

“Yes.” Mike firmly agreed.

“Well!” Mr. Raglan exclaimed with a beam smile written on his features. “Now let me explain you everything you need to know…”

Mike's first night turned out to be anything but simple, despite his initial expectations. Although he had assumed it would be a straightforward affair, the reality hit him when he arrived at the Pizzeria. Mr. Raglan had painted an enticing picture, but the reality was far from appealing. The exterior of the place was drab, with a sign in disrepair, and an entrance that appeared older than Mike himself. The eerie atmosphere left him questioning the wisdom of his decision to accept the job. However, the need for money was a compelling motivator, so he soldiered on.

As he stepped into the building, he recalled being informed that the technology was outdated yet operational, suggesting that someone had been there before him to maintain it. Regardless, as long as their shifts didn't overlap, it was a situation he could live with. However, as he prepared to settle into his office, a profound sense of isolation crept over him. Or perhaps it was a feeling he had merely convinced himself of.

On that very night, Mr. Raglan had called for a check-in, a practice that you found rather unsettling. It only served to worsen your already fragile sleep schedule as the weeks passed. What made it even more distressing were the persistent, haunting visions of them replaying in your mind – flashbacks of their appearances at the restaurant and even inside your own home. But what set your anxiety spiraling was the presence of an eerie figure intertwined with these visions. This haunting scenario ultimately drove you to seek medical attention at the hospital due to severe sleep deprivation. After that harrowing incident, it's safe to say that your eyes would seldom close.

You had also received a rather cryptic warning to keep an eye on the new night security guard, as if your job wasn't demanding enough on its own. Strangely enough, you had never laid eyes on the big boss, nor had any idea what he even looked like. All you knew was that he had a penchant for privacy and seemed to have great faith in Mr. Raglan's knack for providing these kinds of employment opportunities.

As you cruised through the town, dressed in your security guard uniform, you made a pit stop at the convenience store. There, you grabbed some instant coffee and a few snacks to keep yourself alert during your night shift. It wasn't as if you desperately needed them, but considering the unpredictable behavior of the animatronics, especially on the new security guard’s very first day, you opted to stay on high alert. After all, it had been who knew how long since you'd managed to keep your sanity intact while enduring the trials of this dismal place.

You had casually mentioned to Vanessa that you had a few errands to run. She appeared as exhausted as you, both of you affected by the recent ordeal involving the security guard. You couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor guy, always caught in the middle of chaos and associated with the color purple. It seemed absurd that something so innocuous could be the root of all these problems, but you quickly dismissed such thoughts. After paying the cashier and expressing your gratitude, you left the store behind.

Mike's night was surprisingly going well, and he mused, "It's not as bad as I thought." Despite his seemingly confident tone, he remained alert and cautious. While you had explicitly advised Vanessa not to come and check on you, yet she did precisely the opposite. Mike suddenly became aware that he was not alone. Could it be a burglar? He had been sternly warned against letting any strangers in, and he was determined to follow that advice. However, Vanessa's impressive familiarity with the Pizzeria allowed her to slip in through an alternate entrance, demonstrating her knowledge of the place. Leading Mike into desperate urgent major. Finding the burglar.

Meeting Vanessa had caught him off guard, and he was momentarily taken aback by her unexpected presence. Vanessa, however, took the initiative to speak on his behalf. "You must be the new security guard," she observed. Mike, still trying to process who this woman was, offered a hesitant nod, prompting a chuckle from Vanessa at his reaction. "I'm Vanessa," she introduced herself, her tone light. "Security guard by day, and assistant by night."

"Assistant?" Mike scrutinized her, contemplating whether he should call the big boss to confirm her role. However, Vanessa reassured him, saying. "No need to. The big boss called Y/N to fix Foxy's lair."

"Y/N?" Mike inquired, skepticism evident in his voice. "And why should I take your word for it without any proof?" He stayed close to the camera footage and swiftly switched to the next camera, which was focused on Foxy's area. Everything appeared to be in pristine condition, suggesting the entire place had been left deserted. "And who is this... Y/N?"

Vanessa pointed at the screen displaying the main entrance, where you were standing, clearly aware of the camera above. You cheekily flipped your finger at the camera, leaving Mike torn between the belief that Vanessa was indeed present or that the security guard was merely doing his job, and she wasn't there at all.

"I informed them that I wouldn't be around, but they are rather fragile. They are being advised to be checked on during their shift." Vanessa explained. "While I focus on the animatronics to avoid raising any suspicion, I suggest you go and check on them.”

The instructions were unmistakable, and Mike had little choice but to comply. "But... what if the boss finds out I'm not at my station?" He voiced his concern. Vanessa couldn't help but chuckle softly, feeling a pang of sympathy for him. "Don't fret. He's already aware." She reassured him, her expression tinged with a hint of guilt.

"Great," Mike muttered with an eye roll as he returned to monitoring the main entrance. He couldn't help but steal a glance at your figure, noticing how cold you seemed on this early fall night. He could practically see you shouting on the other line, "Hey, jerk! Let me in, it's freezing out here!" Even though he couldn't hear your words, he could tell from the expression on your face. In response, he finally granted you access, and you muttered with relief. "About time..." just before stepping inside.

As you stepped inside, the interior of the place made you acutely aware of your luck, albeit in an eerie way. It was undeniably creepy, yet you had an inexplicable sense of safety and even felt oddly welcomed. Foxy, known to be the most terrifying and historically the meanest of them all, somehow found solace in your presence. You could have sworn that at times, his eyes seemed to lower, watching as you tended to him. It was as though he had a hidden identity, not quite ready to reveal his true nature, you suspected.

As you wandered through the Pizzeria, Mike couldn't help but notice your diminutive figure amidst all the towering animatronics. He found it difficult to fathom how someone so petite could be employed in this establishment. He murmured his thoughts to Vanessa, nudging her gently. "Maybe we—" He began, but she quickly interrupted, saying, "Not now."

As you finished repairing Bonnie, the big boss tasked you with fixing Foxy, who had been acting strangely. It struck you as odd because Foxy typically only reacted to potential intruders. He preferred targeting moving objects over those playing hide and seek until they got too close. You made your way up to his lair, pulled back the curtains, and revealed his silhouette. "Seems like someone's been naughty lately..." Your voice usually provided comfort, but today it had an odd tone. "Have you...met the new guard?" You found it rather absurd to be talking to a robotic entity, particularly one as poorly and cheaply programmed as you had discovered. If there was one thing you wanted to tell the big boss, assuming you ever met them, it was to consider upgrading the gear if they ever thought of opening another Pizzeria.

On the other end, Mike observed you with a watchful eye. It didn't take long before you began repairing Foxy's arm and his body started to glitch unexpectedly. "Weird... I thought—" Your words were abruptly cut off by a loud and startling BANG. Foxy's eyes were now fixed on you, but they were different from what you were used to. They were red and filled with anger, just like in your recurring nightmares. In that harrowing moment, you froze in place, uncertain of what to do next. "Y/N!" Vanessa's voice came through the walkie-talkie, but you couldn't hear it. Everything around you felt vacant, as if you were about to become Foxy's last meal of the night... or so you feared.

An arm swiftly reached out and pulled you close to its owner. Mike clutched you tightly, and a sense of terror and dread washed over both of you. It was Mike who managed to break free from the grip and make a dash for the monitor room, but just as he got there, Bonnie arrived, blocking his path. "Damn it," he cursed, frantically scanning for an alternate route. You, from your vantage point, weakly directed him, "The first aid room...to the right."

Without uttering a word of thanks, which, given the gravity of the situation, seemed secondary to getting you to safety, Mike finally brought you to the emergency room. It was a room that had seen far too much use, but oddly enough, everything seemed to return to normal once you arrived. The animatronics had moved elsewhere, and for some reason, they couldn't access the area. This brought a sense of relief to Mike. He carefully placed your body on a rather shabby bunk bed and softly murmured, "Here..." You remained in a state of shock, your eyes wide as if your body had been frozen in place. "Hey," He attempted to reassure you, "you're safe now. Vanessa should... Great job, Mike, real smooth." He berated himself inwardly for his awkward choice of words.

Upon hearing Vanessa's presence, you lifted your head abruptly, your eyes brimming with tears you were trying to hold back. Just when you thought of her, she appeared, precisely knowing where to find you. You felt a mixture of relief and concern as she leaned in to inspect you for any wounds or scratches, cupping your face and keeping her gaze locked on you. "Has they had any water?" Mike, who was present to assist, appeared increasingly nervous this time. Being new to this place, he didn't know everything either. "Where... Where is it?" He stammered, quickly searching the room. Vanessa pointed in the direction, her eyes never leaving you. "The first storage room to the left."

"Y/N, look at me." Vanessa implored, his voice filled with unease. "The man doesn't exist. He's not here... He's a fictional—"

Nervously, Mike handed the water bottle to Vanessa, who then offered it to you. This time, you shook your head vigorously, tears streaming down your face. "No! I saw him. Foxy spoke his name to me! It can't just be in my dreams!" You pleaded, desperate to convince them, despite your previous breakdowns being labeled as delusional by past doctors. As you shook your head, you realized that Mike was beside you. You clung to his arm, causing him to gulp nervously, just a little. "You have to believe me... Please..."

Mike found it hard to believe, even though you had clearly experienced a breakdown in that moment. While it was entirely understandable, he tried to do the same thing Vanessa did. "Perhaps you should just take a moment to breathe." He suggested. "Whenever I'm in a state of panic, my doctor advises me to take deep breaths." You observed him closely and countered. "And does your doctor say you're insane?"

Insane…

As undeniable as the truth was, it struck Mike that perhaps you were right. Everything seemed so peculiar when it came to Abby and Y/N's imaginary friends, especially with Vanessa working so hard to conceal her friend's breakdowns. "You know... now that you mention it..." Mike began, leaning in to discuss it further. Vanessa attempted to nudge him away, but you allowed him to continue. But he stopped. And by locking eyes with each other, you both knew something was wrong with this place. So in response, you leaned in and wrapped yourself in his arm. There was something about him that felt like home. You felt protected and, for once, someone truly understood you.

On the other hand, Mike comforted you with a few soothing rubs on your back. He glanced at Vanessa, who seemed to share the relief but carried a heavy load of guilt inside, which she wasn't ready to disclose to either Mike or you. “Shh… I got you.” He said, with a soothing voice that remembered it as your older brother. Not letting it go he continued. “We are going to get through all of this together… Y/N.”

“Together…”

In the distance, Abby observed the trio with Foxy's humanoid presence beside her. Foxy, who felt a deep sense of guilt for what he had done to them just hours ago, hesitated to intervene to bring Y/N back to him. However, as he watched Mike and you, he felt a strong urge to protect you, jealousy even you were a mother figure for everyone, but especially Foxy. Abby noticed his face changing into hatred until she halted him with a reassuring smile. "There's no need," Abby whispered. "They have found someone... Someone who truly cares for them. Someone who will love and protect them."

Foxy silently observed the scene unfolding before his eyes, and as he heard Abby's words, he felt a sense of relief welling up within him. Watching it all happen, Foxy came to realize that Abby was indeed right. Y/N had found someone they could genuinely rely on, someone with whom she could openly express their feelings..

Fin.

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floorbe · 5 months

Text

"Training Modules" (William Afton x Fem!Reader)

**Commission for @skalter !**

Summary: You'd been struggling to keep a job for the past few months, much to your own embarrassment... especially since you kinda have a thing for your career counselor, Mr. Raglan, who you're sure only sees you as a (rather difficult) client.

Warning(s): n/fw, cursing, slight degradation, slight praise, reader is AFAB and uses she/her, kind of cnc at one specific part but it's obvious that reader is into it, spit play, p in v, exhibitionism, dirty talk

A/N: this was so fun to write lol love my boy william steve

Word count: ~6,668

Pt I (here!), pt II

You were fucked.

This was the second job this month that you’d been fired from.

Okay, to be fair, it wasn’t your fault! Your manager was a hard ass! So what if your ten minute break turned into fifteen one time? It was absurd to allow workers only one ten minute break every 5 hours, especially in a fast food job. Good riddance, you thought as you threw your hat on the floor, storming out of the building.

Tears filled your eyes as you huffed, slamming your car door as you groaned in frustration. You rubbed your eyes tiredly, resting your forehead against the steering wheel. Mr. Raglan was going to be pissed.

“What… is your problem?” Mr. Raglan’s voice scratched at your ears, leaving your cheeks hot as you felt his eyes scan your features, “You’ve been fired from not one, but two jobs within the past… three and a half weeks. That’s barely a week and a half at each, Miss L/N.”

The heat that had bloomed in your cheeks easily spread to your ears at his blunt reminder, fidgeting anxiously as you watched his form from the corner of your eye. All you could muster was a nervous chuckle and an “I’m sorry” before your eyes flicked up to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes surprised you, effectively locking your gaze with his. The flames that had heated your features seconds prior vanished, a jarring chill shuddering your form in its place.

His hands were folded neatly over one another, supporting his chin as he tilted his head to watch you. The silence seemed to suffocate the room, leaving no air for you to catch your breath. His eyes pinned you in place, leaving you frozen as if the icy blue in his eyes had somehow reached you. His eyes suddenly dropped to your leg, tracking its movement as it shook and bounced. You swore you saw a quirk of his lip, maybe even a glimmer of amusement clouded in how his eyes crinkled.

Then, as quickly as the moment had started, it was over. Mr. Raglan took a deep breath, breaking his attention away from your form to push himself up from his chair. You watched closely as he glided towards his coffee pot, swirling it around in his hand before pouring into a small, paper cup.

“...You’re running out of options,” he commented after a moment, his back facing you, “Losing two jobs within less than a month isn’t exactly… Well, let’s just say you won’t be getting a gold star, that’s for sure.” Now unburdened by his gaze, you took the time to scan over his form. You hadn’t gotten to see Mr. Raglan much (well, you had, but most of the time you were staring at one familiar carpet spot on the floor instead of his towering stature), and now that you had a chance, albeit a small one…

“...Sorry,” you murmured again, almost absently as you traced how his shirt clung loosely to his back with your eyes, making him appear lankier than he probably is. The pale yellow complimented the warmer colors of the room, you noted, and with a quick glance around the room you noticed that it was almost all decorated in dim yellows and browns.

The only splash of color in the room seemed to be the tie he sported. You had caught a glimpse of the color peeking out when he’d walked you in, and even then, you decided thoughtfully, the gritty purple seemed to disappear amongst the brighter colors. As you considered the color theory of his room, you couldn’t stop your eyes from following the curve of his lower back, lower, lower…

“Miss. L/N?” his voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and it took you embarrassingly long to regain enough coherence to quickly jerk your head back up.

You nearly jolted in your seat as his eyes locked with yours again, and it was with a spark of embarrassment that you realized, with his head tilted back over his shoulder to catch your gaze, that he probably had seen you checking him out. One of his eyebrows raised as he caught your attention, and with the way his mouth quirked up into a sly smile, you’re now certain that he caught you checking him out.

Before you could sputter out a response, you swore you saw his eyes rake over your form quickly… But before you could process he was already spinning around, offering you the paper cup he’d filled with hot coffee.

“I said, coffee?” he repeated, head tilted in a warm smile as he offered.

“Oh! Um– yes, thank you,” you gently took the cup from his hands. Your hands were trembling as you took a sip from the flimsy cup, the hot coffee almost burning your tongue.

“I have one more job that you might be a fit for,” Mr. Raglan slipped back into his seat, steepling his fingers, “Now, I will warn you… If you lose this one, I’m not sure I’ll be able to get you another so easily. I wasn’t lying when I said your options are limited, Miss L/N.”

You nodded, letting your eyes train onto the bland carpeting in his office in an attempt to focus on his words. “...Alright. What–... what’s the job?” you asked, praying to any god listening that it wouldn’t be another damn fast food job…

“It’s a fast food job–”

God fucking–

“-though you’ll be hopping around from station to station.”

Extra stress of learning multiple positions at once. Great.

“Now, I know you have a history with fast food, and not a particularly good one. That being said, I have no doubt that you’ll excel here,” he smiled encouragingly at you. The way his eyes crinkled implied a warmth to his words, one that you didn’t doubt comforted many others in your position. Despite the innocuous smile, you felt a shiver rip down your spine; there was a glint in his eyes that you couldn’t define as he detailed the job. It gave you a jarring feeling that he knew something you didn’t.

“And– and fast food is the only job available…?”

He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, shrugging apologetically, “I’m afraid so… Trust me, Y/N-”

That was the first time he’d used your first name.

“-I searched high and low for something else for y’a… Sorry, kid,” though his expression seemed to soften with understanding, it hadn’t met his eyes, “If you lose this job, I mean… I won’t give up on y’a, but…” he shrugged again, sighing quietly.

“I understand,” you nodded, fidgeting with the now empty paper cup, “I- I’ll do my best, Mr. Raglan.”

“I know you will.”

Fuck. Okay, now you were really screwed.

“How fucking hard is it to run orders, Y/N?” you mumbled to yourself, throwing your barely used uniform on your bed haphazardly, “Fuck. Mr. Raglan is gonna be pissed…” you groaned frustratedly, throwing yourself face down on your bed for an angry nap. Just as you were about to drift off, your phone pinged beneath your hand, jolting you awake with another groan. You flipped it open groggily, blinking away the sleep from your eyes.

How was your first day?

You blinked in surprise. That was… new. Mr. Raglan had never texted you before.

Hope you haven’t gotten fired yet.

You sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth, grimacing. You were hovering your thumbs over the keyboard, trying to find some way to confess that, yes, before even your first lunch break, you’d been fired.

Kidding! Unless you did.

You decided that straight to the point would spare you both time.

I got fired. I’m sorry, Mr. Raglan, I understand if you want to refer me to another counselor.

Your leg bounced anxiously as you waited for his response. It was minutes before your phone pinged again, and you hastily flicked it open.

That’s a shame. Tell you what, why don’t you come in sometime today? I think I may have found something more suitable for you.

Your response was typed within seconds, thumbs hastily clicking through the letters to spell your response.

Absolutely, thank you so much, Mr. Raglan! What time works best?

Wonderful! Anytime after six works.

That was weird. You could’ve sworn he worked 9 - 5… Maybe he was working overtime? Just for you…? You felt your cheeks warm at the idea. There was no way, but… it didn’t hurt to daydream a bit. Not as long as you didn’t let it interfere with being professional with him, right?

Your phone pinged again, and you couldn’t help the smile that quirked your lips as you read his message.

See you soon, Y/N!

You hadn’t liked how that made your heart skip. Maybe you shouldn’t daydream if you were already getting butterflies at the thought of him. You glanced at the clock– 3pm.

Well… you did have time to spare… maybe one wouldn’t hurt. Plus, it wasn’t like you saw him everyday… You’d have time to cool off this crush eventually!

You let out a deep sigh as you clicked off the car engine. You took a moment to compose yourself, rubbing your eyes tiredly with a groan. It was a miracle you’d made it even five minutes early with how you’d rushed out of the house with your car keys dangling from your teeth, too occupied to even grab a sweater for the chilly weather.

Yeah, okay, maybe letting yourself daydream wasn’t the best idea. You’d spent way too long remembering how his form had loomed over you in his office, how his arm was bent despite reaching all the way over his desk to shake your hand, fingers curling around yours, dwarfing your palm… You bit your lip, pressing your palm flat against your own thigh. The warmth, though obviously your own, let your mind wander.

You imagined his piercing eyes catching yours again, his hand reaching out to rest on your thigh in a silent reassurance... Maybe his face would harden when he realized your position, maybe his eyes would sharpen, boring into yours as his hand climbed higher and higher, slipping inwards…

You shook your head, blinking the remnants of your daydream away. You stepped out of your car, the darkness of the evening surrounding you as you crossed the vacant lot. You swallowed hard, rubbing your hands together anxiously as you neared the front door. A deep, shuddering breath left you in a poor attempt to calm your racing heart before you raised your fist, rapping gently on the door.

It was mere seconds before you heard the door click unlocked, swinging open. Mr. Raglan greeted you with a smile, looming over you once again as he leaned out to peek around the building. You caught a whiff of his cologne, deep and musky, mixed with the familiar scent of shitty, instant coffee. It took you a moment to realize he was looking at you expectantly, and you fumbled with a response to pretend you were listening. You shot for the safest option; if he’d just opened the door, a greeting?

“Hello, Mr. Raglan! I’m good, how are you?”

He paused, tilting his head. One of his eyebrows arched, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a sly look. “I said,” he started, making it clear he’d caught your little lie, “Are you ready for the job opportunity of a lifetime?”

You froze, mouth opening and closing as you scrambled for words. Heat prickled your cheeks, flaming hot as you watched his lips curl further into a smug smirk. “U-uh– yes, yeah!” you finally managed to choke out, hastily ducking under his arm to slip into the familiar building.

Mr. Raglan clicked the door shut behind you, keys jingling as he locked the doors. You swallowed hard, casting a look around the empty lobby; it was odd to see the space so vacant. Suddenly there was a warm pressure on your lower back, lightly pushing to guide you forward. “So,” Mr. Raglan started, voice hoarse before he cleared his throat, “I’ve found a gig I think you might be a good fit for. Real good pay, hours, convenient location… and your boss isn’t too shabby, either.”

You let yourself be guided into his office, taking a seat in the plush chair across from his desk as he circled you. He didn’t slide behind his desk like he usually did, instead choosing to lean against the front. His body was close, and you resisted the urge to scoot back as his legs brushed against yours. “Thank you, Mr. Raglan, I- I really appreciate it,” you smiled, tipping your head up at him.

He waved you off, hand swishing air across your face as he beamed down at you, “Aw, hey, I can’t take all the credit,” his nimble fingers curled around his keys, jingling them as he shook them in front of you, showcasing the rabbit’s foot attached to the keyring, “Maybe my little rabbit’s foot helped y’a out, too, huh?”

You chuckled along with him, watching his torso torque to place them back onto his desk. “Anyway, I’m sure you’re worried that this’ll be another fast food job you get fired from on day one,” he gave you a pointed look but seemed to preen when you nervously averted your gaze, “But… It’s not! In fact, I’d say it’s a hell of a lot better.”

“What’s the job?” you asked with a tilt of your head, embarrassment fading as your curiosity grew.

The grin that cracked across his face sent goosebumps down your body. His back hunched as he leaned over your form, arms spreading eagerly to the side in a “ta-da” as his voice exclaimed, “My secretary!”

Your mouth went dry.

“I know, I know, a bit on the nose, but hey, who knows your resume better than your career counselor?”

You forced out a laugh, dipping your head to hide the way your smile hadn’t met your eyes. You were already dealing with less-than-pure thoughts of him, and that was when you saw him sparingly for updates and job searches! Seeing him almost every day? Not only just seeing him, but interacting and getting to know him?

“...I’m sensing that you’re not too excited about it, but trust me, working for me will be the best decision you make,” he grinned down at you, and you tried your best to suppress the chills that ran down your spine. You ignored how his grin sharpened ever-so-slightly, a sign that you weren’t nearly as sneaky as you’d hoped.

“Sorry! Sorry, I am excited,” you tried to reassure him, waving your hands, “I just– I’m surprised, is all? Uh, I guess I didn’t expect the job to be…”

“With the big, bad Mr. Raglan?” he nearly growled, eyes twinkling with amusement as he mimed clawing at you with a chuckle, “Don’t worry. I get that a lot. Tell you what… How about I let you think it over and you can get back to me?”

Despite your hesitations prior, you couldn’t turn down another job. You bit your lip, silently weighing your options. Sure, you were unbearably horny for the guy (and he sometimes gave you a chill no one else seemed to get), but you could ignore it! …Probably.

“No, no, I accept,” you hastily reassured him, smiling politely, “Sorry, I’d love to. I was just caught off guard.”

“Perfect!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together before reaching out a hand to you, “How’s tomorrow for a start date?”

Alright, maybe not all hope was lost! Thus far, your day had been remarkably (and fortunately) uneventful as a whole. Mr. Raglan had introduced you briefly to the main staff, went over dress code, common policies, and now you were stuck watching training videos about customer service. You had zoned out about an hour ago, though, mindlessly clicking through the training quizzes you’d seen too many times before. The questions were always the same basic set you always got when training at a new job, just slightly reworded to seem original to whatever company you were under.

“Wow, you’re a really fast reader! You barely even clicked next before you answered that one!”

Mr. Raglan’s voice startled you from your thoughts and you flinched, hand jerking as if to hide the screen. You couldn’t help the distinct feeling of being caught doing something wrong, electricity sparking along your tongue as you looked back over your shoulder.

The moment you locked eyes with his, you swore you saw his smile sharpen as his eyes trailed over your startled expression; however, when you blinked, he was looking at you with the same amused quirk of his lips as he scanned your monitor. He chuckled at your expression, placing a warm hand on your shoulder and leaning in conspiratorially, whispering, “Hey, don’t worry. I won’t tell your boss.” He winked at you, laughing again as you choked out a chuckle, still reeling from his sudden appearance.

The weight of his hand was heavy on your shoulder, warmth seeping through your shirt as you swallowed hard, forcing out another laugh to bide time fighting off how your mind kept wondering how his hand would feel trailing lower, lower–

It was only when he’d tilted his head, dipping his chin ever-so-slightly to study your expression that you realized the silence had stretched for a moment too long. “They’re all the same questions,” you spit out hastily, clearing your throat as you finally composed yourself. He only hummed curiously at your words, eyes flicking back to the screen. His eyebrows furrowed as he adjusted his glasses, chin brushing against your shoulder as he leaned closer as if to inspect the screen.

“Um, most jobs have the same basic training questions about, like… hospitality, y’know?” you explained, trying very hard to not think about how close he was to you right now. You could even smell his cologne, for God’s sake!

“Huh,” he hummed thoughtfully after a moment, taking another long moment to study the screen before straightening up once again, towering over your seated form. He seemed to preen in the way you shrank a bit in your seat, clasping his hands together as he leaned against your desk, “Well, hey, as long as you’re not driving our clients away, I’m happy.”

“O-oh, no, no, don’t worry, Mr. Raglan, I won’t,” you hastily reassured him. You opened your mouth to speak again, but the words died in your throat as his hand landed on your shoulder again, squeezing lightly.

“I know you won’t. You forgot I was your career counselor, Y/N,” he reminded you with a chuckle, “After knowing you this long, I know I can trust you to be an excellent worker.” He paused, shifting his gaze away briefly before meeting yours again with a quirk of his lips, “...Though there is a training module that’s required of you that needs your full attention.”

You furrowed your brows, tilting your head as you considered what it might entail, “Okay! Um, which module is it? I could do it now.”

His sly smirk cracked into a grin as he leaned down beside your ear once more, his hand lightly massaging your shoulder, “It’s a newer one. I think you’ll like it, Y/N. You can only access it through my computer, though.”

Okay, were you reading this energy incorrectly? That sentence had an undertone, hadn’t it?

“Again, it’s a newer module, still in the early stages, so I’ll have to be there while you complete it to make sure it runs smoothly,” he continued casually, straightening back up, “But I think you’d be the perfect, uh… trial participant.”

There was definitely an innuendo in there, wasn’t there? Were you going insane?

“What do you say, Y/N?” he asked after a moment, voice lowering to a soft rumble, his eyes gleaming, “Wanna follow big, bad Mr. Raglan to his office?”

Definitely an innuendo. Fuck. Okay. Your cheeks were on fire, a lump forming in your throat as you sputtered, trying to find something to say. He seemed to find your flustered behavior amusing, for he squeezed your shoulder with a chuckle before retreating, “I’ll let you think about it, hmm?”

“No,” the word was out of your mouth before you could process it, “U-uh, I mean– yeah, I–...” you fumbled for the right words as he tilted his head down at you. After watching you fumble for words for an embarrassingly long moment, he finally cut you off by reaching forward, the pads of his fingers barely grazing your cheekbone. You froze.

“There you go! Knew you’d be a good girl the moment you walked in my door,” he praised in a mockingly innocent tone, smile crinkling his eyes as his thumb swiped across your cheekbone. “Had an eyelash on your cheek,” he explained quietly, and you could hear the amusement in his tone as he watched you try to recover.

Your heart was pounding in your ears as you watched him turn towards his office, casting a look over his shoulder at you with a raised brow. You heard him snicker as you scrambled out of your seat after him.

He swung open the door to his office, stepping to the side to let you enter first before he followed closely behind. You heard the door shut behind you, muffling the ambient noise of the rest of the building. In the new silence you could hear him turn the lock, a soft click assuring your privacy.

“What’s the first step of the module?” you asked in a sudden bout of confidence, casting a long glance over your shoulder with, what you hoped came off as, a sultry smile.

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” he growled. His hand rested on the small of your back, guiding you towards his desk. You momentarily thought he was going to make you sit in his chair, but before you could spin around, his hand grazed up your spine. He circled you, looming over you predatorily before tracing the pads of his fingers up your arms to rest on your shoulders.

As he applied a gentle pressure to your shoulders, you furrowed your brows in confusion. He chuckled, eyes glinting dangerously as he drank in your expression before pressing down on your shoulders again, this time followed by a low command of, “On your knees, sweetheart. Under the desk, c’mon.”

Your eyes widened at the realization, but you couldn’t ignore the heat that flushed through your body at the way his eyes raked over your body hungrily. You made a show of licking your lips as you pretended to consider his words, humming thoughtfully. “Or what, Mr. Raglan?” you asked after a moment, batting your eyelashes teasingly up at him.

Mr. Raglan let out a bark of laughter, eyes glinting in amusement at your rebellion, “Or what? Or… Well, you wouldn’t want to piss off your new boss, would you, Miss Y/N?” His eyes locked onto the way your teeth tugged at your bottom lip teasingly, “Don’t you want to make a good impression?”

“Oh, of course,” you assured him playfully, sinking down onto your knees with a sly grin, “I wouldn’t want to be disrespectful, Mr. Raglan.” The carpeted floors hit your knees with a soft thud, shifting backwards to settle under his desk with a mockingly sweet smile.

“Atta girl,” he nearly growled, wasting no time in plopping down in his office chair. His legs framed either side of your vision as he scooted his chair in, boxing you underneath his desk. You bit your lip as his thighs opened wider, making no attempt to hide the growing tent in his slacks. God, you’d been fantasizing about this for months, and now… Well, damn, you weren’t going to waste any time.

You shuffled forward, resting your cheek on his thigh and gazing up at him through your lashes. You watched his lips curl up for the umpteenth time that day, sliding a hand down to rest on his own inner thigh. He patted it enticingly, chuckling lowly, “C’mon, sweetheart, I’m not gonna wait all day for that pretty mouth of yours.”

“I’m paid by the hour,” you reminded him teasingly, sliding your hand slowly up his pant leg and rubbing the inner seam of his thigh. You heard his breath hitch softly, and another low laugh left his lips.

“Oh, trust me, I know. Bet you’re gonna be racking up a lot of overtime from now on, aren’t you?” his eyes tracked as your finger trailed higher, barely grazing over the obvious bulge in his pants. His hips bucked lightly, a growl of impatience slipping from his lips as you teased him.

The rough pads of his fingers crawled up your cheek, his nails scratching lightly against your scalp as he guided your head closer to his bulge. You shuffled your cheek closer to his inner thigh, chewing on the inside of your bottom lip as you slowly slid your palm over his bulge, rubbing it. Fuck, it looked big, and you doubted he was fully hard yet. You squirmed at the thought, rubbing your thighs together in anticipation.

Just when you were about to unfasten his belt, your fingers grazing against the cool metal, there was a sudden knock on his door. You froze, eyes widening as you moved to crawl out from under his desk hastily. His grip on your scalp tightened lightly, fingernails pressing into your scalp lightly as he scooted his desk chair forward, caging you between his thighs.

He raised a teasing finger to press against his lips, shushing you inaudibly before he straightened up. Unlocking the door, you heard him vaguely greet whoever had entered, their voices muffled to you through the thicker wood of his desk. You watched as his feet moved back into your vision, his eyes flicking down to you casually to make sure you were settled right back between his knees. He tapped his foot idly, his fingers searching blindly to cup your scalp again.

You decided to mostly tune out their conversation after hearing snippets about administration tasks and suggestions. Mr. Raglan was surprisingly composed as you carefully laid your cheek on his thigh again, the only acknowledgement of your movement being how his thumb tapped lightly on your temple. You couldn’t tell if it was a warning or encouragement, but as you watched how casually he performed, it struck you that there could have easily been another woman beneath his desk when you would have appointments with him.

Then again, Mr. Raglan hadn’t seemed like the type to have flings… Well, he also hadn’t seemed like the type to keep you under his desk, breath ghosting over the obvious tent in his pants, as he talked casually to a coworker. How well did you really know him, anyway? The realization made you frown deeply, a surprising spark of jealousy igniting in your gut as you realized the very real possibility that you weren’t the only one.

In a sudden burst of confidence, you slid your hand up to silently unfasten his belt, pulling it slowly out from around his waist to keep quiet. “Oh, really?” Mr. Raglan’s voice broke through your concentration, and as you peeked up at him he glanced down briefly at you, pointedly, making clear that he wasn’t just talking to his coworker. You held his gaze for as long as you could, biting your lip as you slowly unbuttoned his slacks.

“Yeah, so remember to–” Mr. Raglan’s eyes flicked back up to his coworker as they spoke again, nodding emphatically as you unzipped his slacks. He shifted in his seat, the spinny chair squeaking as he scooted forward, tapping his foot as a warning before you scooted back. As he hid more of his body under the desk with you, you couldn’t help the wicked grin that spread across your face as you slowly, finally, pulled down the elastic of his underwear.

His cock gradually sprang upwards, freed of its confines and practically begging for your attention. You felt his fingers grip the back of your head tighter, his cock twitching as he let his hips rut forward, a silent reminder of your “module”. You raised a hand to glide over his length, letting it rest heavy against your palm before you curled your fingers around him.

You heard his breath hitch as you slowly started to pump his aching cock and it throbbed against your palm at the teasing pace. He tapped his finger on your temple impatiently once again, hips pushing forward silently. You bit back a grin, squeezing his length teasingly before you decided to play with him a bit more. Maybe it was petty, but if he really had had other women here, you kind of wanted to make sure he didn’t forget you any time soon.

Well, you would be seeing him every day, but still! First impressions are everything, you contend amusedly. With that, you leaned in slowly, taking the tip of his cock into your mouth to suckle on it lightly. You held back a laugh as you heard him stifle a gasp by clearing this throat, hips bucking into your mouth at the sudden sensation. His fingers gripped your scalp and surprised you by nearly yanking you closer, pumping more of his shaft into your mouth without warning.

You jolted, hands gripping his thighs tightly as you welcomed more of his cock into your mouth. He seemed to enjoy the submission, for his grip softened as he stroked over your cheek with his thumb briefly. You preened under the new attention, even if his eyes were still trained up on his coworker. Speaking of… What were they even talking about, again?

The question left your mind as his hips rutted into your mouth again as your jaw relaxed. The sudden movement startled you, though his hand pushed on the back of your head at the same time, keeping you in place. You squeezed your eyes shut as his tip ended up brushing too far down your throat, and you couldn’t stop the forceful gag that followed..

As your throat contracted around his cock you could feel a sting in your nose, tears bubbling up in your eyes as you tried to pull back. You vaguely heard him hack loudly, likely to cover the sound of your wet gag and the pop of his cock slipping from your lips. His hand dragged down your face as you tried to suppress another cough. You caught his gaze as he shoved his fingers into your mouth, helping to muffle your noises.

“Y’okay, Steve?” you heard his coworker ask and your heart raced, shuffling further beneath the desk.

Mr. Raglan cleared his throat and you saw the forced polite smile on his lips as you bit down lightly on his fingers, muffling your breathing. “Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m alright. Think I’m catching something.”

“Ah, alright. Well, I’ll leave you be, then. Take care, Steve,” you felt your body physically deflate in relief as you listened to the coworker step back, shuffling out of the room with a soft click of the door. A brief moment passed to let the coworker walk off fully before Mr. Raglan shoved his fingers further down your throat, making you gag again.

“Aww, was that too much?” he taunted you, pushing his lip out in faux pout before laughing darkly. His cock was still stiff against his abdomen, gleaming with his own pre-cum and your saliva, “Couldn’t even take half my cock down your throat before you were gagging on it. Made me work extra hard to make sure we didn’t get caught.”

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, but as his fingers winded eagerly around your tongue, you sucked on them, letting saliva dribble down your chin once more. He groaned at the sight before ripping his fingers from your mouth. “Get up,” he growled, eyes flashing as you shakily rose from your knees, crawling out from under his desk. You hadn’t even fully stood up before his hands were gripping your hips, dragging you forward. You let him manhandle you, lifting you and pressing you roughly down onto his thigh.

You barely had time to tilt your head in question before he guided your hips to drag along his thigh, your previously neglected wetness finally getting attention. You’d almost forgotten how fucking horny you were, and you wasted no time in bucking your hips down once reminded. A breathy moan left your lips as you felt your throbbing clit rub perfectly against his upper thigh.

“Look at you,” he purred, helping to keep your pace steady as his gaze hungrily raked down your form, “God, you’re so fucking needy.” He laughed, squeezing your hips as he bounced his thigh up to meet your movements, “If I were a crueler man, I’d make you cum on my thigh before I’d even touch that pretty pussy.”

A shot of arousal flooded through you at the idea, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that left your lips at the idea, hips twitching subconsciously. He laughed at you again, letting you rut against his thigh and chase the stimulation he’d been denying you, “Oh, you like that idea? Naughty girl!”

He drank in the sight of your trembling form once again, watching you bounce with each buck of your hips, how your mouth fell open to retort snarkily before he bounced his thigh again and made your head fog over a bit... His grin was wide and smug, enjoying how much power he obviously held over you here, on his thigh, dragging your clit across his leg as your libido gradually lowered your inhibitions.

As you felt the knot in your abdomen start to tighten, your hips stuttered in their movement. He caught the movement immediately, lifting you off of his thigh easily and grinning wickedly at you when you whined out a “hey!”.

“Not yet,” he growled, repositioning you on the center of his lap, reaching one hand down to pump his cock lazily. His other hand made quick work of your pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them with practiced ease before slapping your ass playfully.

You slowly stood from your place on his lap, trembling slightly as you shucked off your bottoms, revealing your dripping folds and throbbing clit to his hungry eyes. He dragged you back into his lap, the head of his cock nudging against your clit before moving to grind his length along your puffy folds. “Aww, you’re practically dripping for me… Bet I could even fuck you without any prep, couldn’t I?” he asked you lowly, the head of his cock prodding teasingly against your entrance.

All you could do was nod, the throbbing in your core making you too needy to care about his taunting. He chuckled darkly before sliding his hands up to grip your ass cheeks, groping them roughly as he spread your lips for his twitching cock. He nudged your folds open with the head of his cock, slowly bullying himself through your tight opening with a low groan.

“Shit– you’re so fucking tight,” his eyes closed briefly as you worked your hips down, finally sinking down to the hilt, balls deep in your fluttering hole as you both took in the blissful feeling. “Ah, yeah, this is what you needed, huh?” he growled tauntingly as your walls tightened around him. He lifted you off his lap slightly, only to slam you back down onto his length, stretching you out deliciously as the head of his cock rubbed against the sensitive spot inside.

“Mhm, feel that? Yeah, this is what you really needed, someone to fuck this pretty pussy until you’re dumb enough to follow orders,” he laughed as you let out a particularly loud moan, his length throbbing inside of you with each rough drag of his hips. It was hard to think straight with how he was talking to you, and it certainly didn’t help how he was currently splitting your cunt open like you’d never felt before.

His fingers suddenly gripped your chin roughly, forcing your attention onto him as he fucked up into you, quickening his pace to watch you squirm, “Oh, fuck, you’re squeezing me already– you close? That quickly?”

You nodded, sputtering out a weak “yeah” as you felt his hips slam against yours, one hand snaking down to roughly thumb your clit as he laughed, “Thought so. Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time to work on your stamina.” You felt the knot in your abdomen tighten again, your walls throbbing with each drag of his fat cock along your sensitive walls.

“Mhm, this is the job you really needed: coming in and being fucked dumb from 9 - 5. Bet you’d even work overtime for that, wouldn’t you?”

With a strangled moan, you felt the knot in your stomach snap, pleasure pulsing through your body as your back snapped into an arch. You couldn’t focus on anything he was saying, only how his thumb quickened its pace on your clit, how his cock throbbed and twitched inside of you. “Fuck, fuck, Mr. Raglan,” you moan, eyes rolling back as you bounced on his cock.

“That’s it– fuck, yeah, take it, take it—” he hissed, pumping his cock one, two more times before stilling. His hands gripped your hips harshly, and you were sure they’d leave bruises the next day. He groaned as he shoved you down, pushing his cock as deep as possible. His hips grinded against yours as he came, shooting spurts of hot, sticky cum in your hole as he groaned lowly, “Fu-uck, that’s it, atta girl, take it all–”

You drooped forward as you both came down from your highs, your forehead nestled against his shoulder as you panted heavily. His cock twitched once more before it gradually softened inside of you as your walls pulsed around him. You vaguely acknowledged how his hands slid under your ass, lifting you up to let his cock slip out of you.

He watched his cum pool into a bead and drip out of your hole with an intensity you hadn’t expected, and you couldn’t help the dull throb that returned at how enraptured he seemed. Before you could process his actions, his fingers were slipping inside of your folds, forcing a weak whimper from your mouth as his fingers sent accidental pleasure zipping through your already overstimulated body.

You relaxed once more as they slipped back out soon after, watching with tired curiosity. He brought his fingers, now covered in both of your juices, up to your mouth. He tilted his head as he pressed his fingers against your bottom lip, as if he was studying your reaction. After a moment, you took his fingers into your mouth, too fucked out to care how embarrassing it might look. You sucked lazily on his calloused fingers, tasting your combined juices that coated the roughened skin.

When you looked back up to catch his reaction, the grin on his face was almost sinister. He slowly dragged his fingers down your lip and traced down your jawline, resting loosely near your throat. His thumb pressed lightly against the center of your neck, making you wince as your throat contracted slightly. You hadn’t gotten a chance to question the odd gesture further before the darkened glint in his eyes was gone and he was picking you up, placing you on his desk with a surprising tenderness.

“I’ll get you cleaned up and then you can clock out,” he smiled kindly at you, tucking himself back into his pants before giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. He circled around you, stepping out of the room before casually casting a glance over his shoulder, “Hey, you mind working overtime tomorrow?”

#fnaf imagines #william afton x reader #n*sw//#steve raglan x reader #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf william afton #fnaf steve raglan

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bunnybunbun0 · 6 months

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Currently getting off on the idea of loser!Mike touching a boob for the first time ever. (and of course its yours!)

You were just out for a midnight walk and thought "why dont i go bother mike at his new security job?" You were sitting in a random table along with him,a teasing lolipop in your mouth,flirting with Mike and getting his flustered over nothing was too much fun,you couldn´t get over it.

"So youve never been on a proper date?" He asked regarding the topic of your crappy dating life "Like no flowers or a nice dinner?" His eyebrows were raised,he always disapproved of the sketchy man you went out with,and he thought a nobody like him would never get a chance with a girl like you.

"Dinner and flowers?" You looked into his eyes and chuckled amusedly "Please,i showed my tits for way less!" you took the sucker out your mouth with a loud pop.

The blush on Michael´s cheeks were nerly comic,like a cartoon character getting a kiss on the cheeck,his eyes went everywhere trying to avoid yours,and you could swear that for a moment he just stared at your lips.

"So those men they just...saw your chest?" His voice was heavy in embarassement,face so red he looked like he had a nasty fever.

It was too much of a good teasing chance to just let it pass.

"Oh that and much more..." You popped the candy back into your mouth smirking teasingly "What? You never touched a boob?"

You knew the answer to that question already,Michael´s non existing date life was material for endless late night phone calls and a fuel for your relentless teasing.

"N-no i havent..." He said shyly

You were´nt expecting him to actually answer that,let alone with such honesty,a million things ran through your mind in that minute and the one you chose to listen was the fact you couldnt let your best friend be the type of man who never felt a woman´s breasts.

"Well,lets cchange that shall we?" Your smile was growing bigger by the minute. As you took of your jacket revealing the low cut top you were wearing that oh so nicely hugged your breasts,his eyes were glued in them.

He was taken aback by your actions,not sure what to do next,but that smirk of yours and that top that left little to the imagination were stirring something in him.

"What...What are you implying here?" He twiddled his fingers nervously and you took a step closer to him.

"Well...What are you waiting for? Be my guest!"

He could swear his heart never pumped any faster. He approached you slowly,shaky hands being raised to the point where they were rested on top of your chest,he looked into your eyes for any kind of reaction,hands still and face red like some kind of trance.

"Well dont be shy! get into it!" You stirred him on dancing the red lolipop around in your cheecks.

"A-am i doing this right?" He asked worried and out of breath as he moved his hand slowly,small circular moves from the entirety of what your push bra could expose to him.

"There is no way of doing this wrong,as long as you enjoy yourself..." Your tone was flirtarious as ever,and the growing tent on the front of his jeans proved he was indeed enjoying himself.

His eyes wandered between you and his hands on your boobs,he was slowly getting the hang of it,being ever so delicate and liking the feel of your body on his palms. But it wasnt enough for you,not until he really let himself go.

"Come on! really get into it!" You stirred him on one more time,going further this time.

You put your hands on top of his over your chest and gave it a nice firm squeeze,wanting him to really feel you. You thought his eyes were gonna pop off with how big they widened.

His shock however,didnt forbid him from keep on squeezing and massaging your boobs,the confidence growing ever more at every little gasp that you let scape and at the way he could feel your nipples harden under the fabric.

He couldnt believe his luck! He was actually touching a girls boobs! One that he has been attracted to for a long time as well! He didnt want this moment to ever be over.

"Are you liking it?" he asked without ever stoping the motion of groping your tits.

you hissed through grutted teeth at the way he teased your nipples,mike was always a quick learner and this time it wasnt any different.

"Youre not bad for a first timer" you smiled at him teasingly.

You took a few steps back,chest feeling cold without his preying hands,you ignored the temporary feeling of loss knowing what was to come would be way better. You slid your hands beneath your shirt pulling it over your head,staying in front of him in only a bra and jeans.

"Ready to learn the real deal?"

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cry1ngchild · 1 year

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y/n: remember when you didn’t try to solve all your problems with arson?

Michael holding a lighter: stop romanticising the past.

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf blog #fnaf incorrect quotes #michael afton #mike schmidt #fnaf imagines #afton family #five nights at freddys sister location #eggs benedict #tagged for exposure >#michael afton x reader

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grugruel · 6 months

Text

Horrific findings, sweet nothings

A Fnaf imagine

Pairings: William Afton x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: You got a disturbing call from freddy's pizzeria. Sure that it was just a prank, you check it out yourself. What you find has you barely escaping home with your life, but somone followed you back.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: plot with smut, complicated-established relathionship, horror ish, angst, c*nnulingus, pinv sex, soft sex, c*ck warming, praise.

AN: I wanted to try something different, this became somewhat of a angsty, horror fic, hope yall like it.

Edit: This has become my favourite fic written to date.

"I desire the things which will destroy me in the end."

- Sylvia Plath

Freddy's was a completley different building at night, I barely recognized it as I arrived.

I had gotten a horrifying call from the pizzeria, the voice was muffled and static sizzled, frying the sound further. From what I could make out, some kids had managed to get inside and were being chased by a bunny suit with a knife. I hadnt called the police, because Im almost certain it was a prank, but when I called the night guard he hadnt picked up. So I went there myself.

Nothing about the facade seemed disturbed and all the doors were locked, strange. There could be no other way inside.

I unlocked the doors and stepped in, immedietly consumed by the hostile energy that resided within, making the hair at the nape of my neck stand. It was horrificaly eerie at night, the place had its charm during the day, sure. But something always felt off, even in the daylight, and it only fortified at night.

There was silence, but something was moving unheard through the darkness, felt but not seen. The air was stale and thick, and what little light the moon and streetlamps provided outside, did not make it inside, immedietly consumed by the menacing aura surronding freddy's. Much like the way light breaks when it shines through the surface of water. Same goes here, the light breaks at the windows, illuminating only them, then fades into the depths. It just couldnt breach the tainted surface of the restaurant.

A surge of fright tickled my nerves and goosebumps prickled my skin. I reached for my flashlight, turning it on, but it had little effect in here. It shone a few feet ahead of me just to be swallowed by murky shadows, nipping and chewing at the light. It was not wanted there.

Looking around, I found nothing out of the ordinary. I made my way to the security office, shadows followed me, layering the abyss around me. I was silently thanking Steve for not wanting me as a night guard. I felt silly being scared like this, Id been afraid of the dark as a child, but realised as I grew up that I shouldnt fear the dark, but rather what might be dwelling inside of it.

I was about to round a corner when I collided with something, soft. I bouced backward, hitting the floor and loosing my flashlight in the motion, sliding and spinning, it danced away from me. The unexpected feeling of smooth fabric in this setting made my insides churn, suit. Suit was the only word that came to mind. The flashlight spun to a stop, vaguely illuminating a pair of yellow, fuzzy feet. I scrambled backward, reaching for the light with shaky hands, desperately trying to get ahold of it. But the fuzzy foot stomped on it, snuffing it out.

I looked up in horror as It crept forward. Hunched, it prowled. With glowing eyes, it dissected and in its big stained hands, a bloody knife. My mouth fell open, pure terror filling me, I watched the the blood drip to the floor at my feet. The shaking that had incapacitated my hands was reaching the rest of my body. The shadows were crawling closer, curling around my vision. I could see nothing else but the 7" bunny standing over me, grinning hellishly, bearing its teeth at me like a wolf before striking. I screamed, it echoed through the halls, becoming one of many others. He would save the memory for his collection, hiding it away inside him.

My eyes welled up as I observed the bunny, tears began rolling down my cheeks as I envisioned the knife plunged deep inside me. It tilted its head, as if inspecting my crying. I did not wish to see it any longer, I closed my eyes. I could not be murdered in cold blood, I could not die alone in a place with such ugly, bloodied secrets. To fall into a darkness that would trap me forever, I would decide my own faith and it wouldnt be this. I collected myself to the best of my abilities and made peace with whatever god was out there. Then made a run for it.

I scrambeled to my feet, shoes and knees slipping on the bloodied floor making an awful squeeking noise that sliced through my eardrums, mixing with the beating of my heart, a sumphony of terror. I ran for my life, shadows clung to my back, clawing at my sleeves, whispering, begging me to stay, to join them, to make them company. I heard the thumping of muffled metallic behind me, coming closer, but I could see the exit. I gave it all I had and suddenly I was outside, headed for my car and suddenly I was home. The exhaustion was getting the better of me, I reached for my keys as I came upon my door. But the shadows found me once again, and I fell into a slumber, blacking out from the stress caused to my mind and body.

When I opened my eyes again, I was laying in my bed. I flew up, looking around frantically. Had It all been a dream? Did I make it inside, had I forgotten? Had I lived? I felt myself for wounds of any kind, but I was whole. A sigh of relief left me, but it wasnt over yet. I had to call Steve, I had to warn him, but he didnt pick up. What if he had met the same fate I almost did? No, I could not think of it, he cannot leave me like this. I tried calling the police, but it didnt go through. God, what is going on.

There was a frenzied knocking at my door, something was in a hurry. My eyes widened in fear, what if it had come for me? I backed up against the wall, staring at the door in frozen horror as the knocking continued, shaking my head in denial.

'Its Steve, let me in!' Ha called out and in relief I rushed to the door without second thought, opening it, it hadnt been locked and there he stood, dimly lit but seemingly unscathed.

He rushed into my still dark home and embraced me tightly, a hand stroking my hair as he pushed my head against his chest. My eyes watered as I smiled against him, I had never felt safer, 'I got a strange call from the pizzeria, im so glad you got gome safe.' He whispered, and I nodded slowly, closing my eyes and drinking in his smell, cologne and dust. He left me for a second to close the door, locking it, as if the danger was still outside.

'Something is wrong over there, terribly, terribly wrong.' I sniffed, my eyes watering again. He took a step back to look at me, placing his finger under my chin, and lifting it to make my gaze meet his. Fascinated, he studied my tear streaked face, the redness of my cheeks and wet eyes, admiring me. Saving the memory and tucking it away safely.

'I know, im sorry. My darling girl. Dont cry, youre alright. We both are.' He whispered, I shook my head slowly 'Kiss me, please. I beg of you.' He nodded, obliging, our lips met tenderly, contrasting his sometimes rougher handling. He knew it wasnt what I needed right now, so he scooped me up in his arms and carried me to my room. The motion felt stirringly familiar, how he found my room I do not know. We always spent our time at his, but I did not dwell on it, I could not. He must've carried me a dussen times at this point and my home was not a maze.

He carefully laid me down on my bed, stroking my cheek. His hands roamed my body, dissecting me, taking me apart and putting me back together again. He took my clothes off, I gladly let him. He pampered me, kissing my sorrows away, peeling my panties off, spreading my legs, kissing, licking, biting at my clit and thrusting his tounge into my core, starved for the taste of me, pushing me into oblivion. I screamed and cried as I came. These he would not remember as willfully.

He met my lips with his, lining himself up with my entrance and pushed himself inside of me, gently, thrusting passionateley while whispering sweet nothings in my ear, 'I love you, sweet girl.' And telling me how good I am, 'My good girl, just like that.' as he made love to me, long and slow, intimate and up close. Real, I wanted this version of him to be real. He came inside of me, and I came shortly after. I cried more, and he kissed my tears away. 'Youre so pretty when you cry.' he said, staying inside of me, wrapping his arms around me. I nuzzled closer to him, resting my head in the crook of his neck, kissing his throat and shoulder, tasting metal and sweat. Truly, a horrific finding. I closed my eyes begging, it must be a dream, a nightmare. It wasnt, but I chose to pretend.

He slipped out of me, standing up and still, despite it all, I reached for him. Grabbing his wrist and pulling him back for a kiss, kissing me back, stroking my hair. He pulled away and made his way to the bathroom, finding it with ease. He filled the bathtub with water and came back a short while later, he took my hand, kissing it and led me in there, sitting me down in the soothing warm water, while he sat on the floor, the tub was barely big enough for two. It eased the burdened ache of my body and soul. He had turned the light off, but lit candles. It was enough for me to see the dark spots covering his throat and hands, speckling his unfreckled face.

'How did you know I was at the diner tonight? I did not tell you.' I asked him, and he met my eyes with a sullen expression, tears brimming his own, 'How did you find my home, my bedroom, bathroom. How did I wake up inside my house?' I asked, not wanting the answer. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he smiled sweetly at me, finding no words. 'Why are you covered in blood, it isnt mine. You havent hurt me.' My voice was shaky, confusion lining my words as they left my mouth, creeping upward, it setteled into my features, warping my expression. I did not understand what he was, or why he chose to be it.

He shook his head slowly, mystified, not certain himself 'I love the way you scream for me, so scared, so beautiful.' He said, stroking my cheek lovingly, tracing my lips with his finger as another tear rolled down his cheek. I closed my eyes for a second, desperately wishing he ment in pleasure and not in pain. His words cut deeper than the knife he had held, but I smiled, a melancholic smile, for still, I loved him. He was a monster, we both knew it. I looked at him again, studying his face, saving the memory and safely storing it in my heart. Then I slid into oblivion, submerging my whole being. The water darkened around me, swirling around my vision as the depths embraced me.

Maybe it would be better this way, I thought. I would not, and I could not leave him. This would be the only right thing for me to do, the only way this could end morally for me. But he wouldnt even let me do that, he grabbed me by my shoulders and pulled me up above the surface, forcing air into my lungs. His selfishness would not allow me to do right by myself.

Wordlessly he undressed and stepped into the bath with me, sliding down behind me, laying and arm around my shoulders and the other around my waist. Tightley securing my back against his chest.

He kissed the back of my head reassuringly as tears mixed with the crimson tinted water, salt and iron waltzing around eachother. It coated our bodies, soaking into our skin. At our core, this is what we would be, death and grief. Mourning who we once were and dreading what the light would bring.

#william afton smut #william afton x reader #william afton x you #fnaf movie #fnaf smut #fnaf imagines #steve raglan smut #steve raglan #steve raglan x reader #william afton #five nights at freddy's

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