#fnaf drabble

[r0tting-rat]

"Little pest."

Hi Magpie!!! Gift :> Just a lil thing for a very talented someone with an incredible au. Yeah I'm a huge simp for their alien boys what about it /silly

Pairing: Alien King!Eclipse (by @sleepymagpie-draws) x Gender Neutral Reader Warning: None, maybe just a bit ooc (sorry mags) Words: 4000+ Summary: You're bored and can't sleep. Thank god you have someone to annoy to pass the time <3 Heavily inspired by this ask/art!!! Literally died when I saw it he's so beautiful. Additional tags: TouchSTARVED reader. Starved as hell. Also fluff fluff fluff so much fluff. Magpie I love him can you tell. (Reminder everyone that the reader has techincally been kidnapped, but they're pretty chill about it dw)

Who said being kidnapped by aliens is a terrifying and horrible experience? It has already been months since Sun literally grabbed you and brought you with him, and you have yet to be put on a vivisectionist's table. In fact, all you have known since then are silky sheets, soft pillows, ornate plates of fresh fruits you have never seen before, and heavy pieces of jewelry that hang down your neck and rest fresh against your sternum. You live better than you used to back on Earth, spoiled rotten by three royals every single day of your dull life, sleeping in a bed three times the size of a human one, and with countless workers ready to be summoned at your every call. Although, you have to admit that you much prefer the attention of your “captors” compared to the one of their servants, feeling like their soft touches work like a relaxing balm on your mood. 

The one of the three brothers you see less is Eclipse, and even if you can bet your money on the fact that he must be constantly busy due to his duties as a king, you can’t help but wish you could spend more time with him, craving the way he gently scratches the top of your head with his claws whenever he manages to stop by and pay you a visit.

Rolling around in the soft sheets of the bed you are resting on, looking up at the dull ceiling, you feel like a pampered and neglected pet at the same time, left to the care of strangers who refuse to speak more than quick sentences to you, covered by precious gifts from head to toe and fed with silver spoons while also being locked alone in your quarters for hours without end. 

You complain, of course. To Sun, Moon, and anyone who’s willing to swing by and listen, really. You grumble and whine; you roll on your bed and do your best attempt at puppy eyes, but all the brothers do is laugh and caress your cheeks. There are rules—they say—rules that can’t be broken, and each time they remind you, you roll your eyes. They promised you books and games to pass the time, but as you wait for the shipment from Earth to arrive, you are left with nothing. You don’t understand the language of the heavy volumes collecting dust in the bookshelves of your room, and something tells you you wouldn’t enjoy reading them even if you did.

The part of the brothers’ visits you hate the most is when you see them stand up and prepare to leave, because you know that the very moment the door closes behind them, it locks, leaving you stuck in your room for hours. There’s no real keyhole in your door, so you can only guess how it works, but from what you have gathered so far, it seems like it’s semi-automatic but opens only when you’re coming in from the outside. Listening to Sun and Moon made you realize another thing as well: their rooms seem to be close to yours—maybe even adjacent—and the thought infuriates you. So close, and yet so far! Why do they so rarely visit you if they are so close by? Do they have other places to rest? Do they sleep at all? Are the bedrooms just for show? Drowning in questions, you decide that it’s time to break some rules, and when Eclipse finally stops by to visit you after dinner, you come up with a plan. 

The alien is so tall the tip of his crown brushes over the canopy of your bed as he leans over your draped form on the bed. He rests one of his hands on top of your head, brushing your hair back, and you look up at him with a pout.

“Finally decided to pay attention to me?” you say, swatting his hand away and sitting up. You know you’re being a brat, but if they so desire to treat you as a glorified pet, then you might as well show them the reality of owning one. From under his crown, which you consider more like a helmet or mask, you hear the disappointed clicking of his mandibles that translates through your magnetic ring with a soft cooing sound.

“Oh, my pet, are you feeling neglected?” he asks, coming back to gently run his claws through your hair. He loves to do it, and you love allowing him.

“I’m bored, Eclipse.” You have no qualms about calling him by his real name, ignoring any honorific everyone around keeps suggesting to you. “I’m bored, and it’s been almost a week since your last visit.”

You shift back on the bed a little so it doesn’t seem done on purpose, and you watch as the terrifyingly huge alien climbs on the disarranged covers to follow you. He never fully enters your personal space, always keeping enough room between the two of you to keep things “formal,” in a way, but you also noticed how he likes to have you at arm’s length. Every time you are in the same room as Eclipse, one of his four arms is always touching you, resting on your head or shoulder, tilting your chin up, sometimes even running his claws from the base of your spine to the nape of your neck just to see you shiver and glare at him.

“My apologies,” he says, and his words sound sincere, “I promise the shipment will arrive shortly; you’ll have your books in no time.”

“It’s not the books that I want, though,” you reply, leaning closer, and that causes Eclipse to slightly move back, like he’s scared you might end up too close to his face. “You kidnapped me, dragged me here, then proceeded to simply ignore me.”

You weren’t being ignored, of course. You were just acting dramatic so as to get what you wanted.

“I’m sure I do not need to remind you who of the three of us is the one at fault for your presence here. As I told you already, I’m afraid I cannot bring you with me while I work, pet,” Eclipse sighs, “After we expanded on your little planet, both Sun and Moon’s responsibilities and tasks have doubled as well. It has to be said, your fellow humans are quite rowdy.”

You turn your head away, pretending to look saddened by the news—nothing you hadn’t expected, of course, but still.

“Also, the thought of you roaming these halls alone makes us all uneasy,” he adds, “You could get lost, or someone could see you and be scared to the point of calling the guards on you. That’s why we must lock your door, my pet, to keep you safe.”

“Not because you think I might run away?” you question, eyebrows rising up with skepticism, and Eclipse purrs with amusement.

“Run off? And where to, silly?” he laughs, “You wouldn't even know how to leave this place, let alone return to your home planet.”

He’s right; running from them would have been stupid. Plus, you don’t really want to escape—not when you have two princes and a king spoiling you like that—you just need to leave that damned room for at least five minutes so as to not go mad! Is it too much to ask not to be subjected to psychological torture?

“Are you returning tomorrow morning?” you ask, hopeful, and Eclipse shakes his head. You groan, now seriously disappointed, and try not to lean too much into the touch of his hand caressing your cheek. The contact burns, like living embers, and you have to stifle a second groan. It’s been so long since you had some form of physical contact with a human, and something tells you it’s starting to take a toll on you, making you more compliant and demanding of attention. It could be due to the unfamiliar setting, which you simply can’t grow accustomed to despite how much you walk the perimeter of your large room, or the complete absence of familiar faces, but the cause of it doesn’t matter. All you know is that you need to be hugged, to be cuddled, to be held, and to be caressed. You’re touch starved, so hungry for it you could just throw yourself at Eclipse and cling on his neck until he relents and decides to sleep there with you or bring you to his room—either way, you’d get a full night of cuddles; too bad common decency stops you from hugging a king like a koala. 

“I have an important meeting in the morning, so I’m afraid not. I’m sure Sun and Moon might be able to clear their schedules in the afternoon, though, so don’t fret.”

His words are apologetic, but you feel as if they were said with the sole purpose of bringing you harm because they do nothing but hurt you. 

Eclipse leaves after a while of chatting, bringing all the warmth of the room with him, and you watch him from your spot on the edge of the bed as he walks towards the door. You’re on your back, head hanging down the bed, staring blankly at the heels of the king and mentally preparing your next move. You act fast. The door opens, Eclipse slips away, and right before it closes, you throw a pillow in the gap of the threshold. The noise of the pillow falling is soft and muffled, and Eclipse doesn��t seem to notice that the door hasn’t closed completely behind him; instead, he simply walks away in the white corridor outside your room, and you stare at your successful attempt with surprise. You actually did it! The door is still open, blocked by the red pillow, and you finally have access to the rest of the rooms. 

Carefully standing up from your bed, like afraid someone from outside could hear you, you make your way towards the exit and peek out, hoping not to be met with Eclipse’s disappointed masked face. When your eyes travel the length of the long corridor extending before you like a white snake, you find no sign of any alien, and a smile splits on your lips from ear to ear.

The idea of immediately beginning to explore is alluring, but you know better than to leave when it’s still so early. You must wait some time until you’re sure Eclipse must have already retreated to his room for the night, and then enact the second phase of your plan.

Once you’re finally sure enough time has passed since the king has wished you goodnight, you finally push fully open the door of your room, looking around once more to make sure the coast is clear. After that, you put the pillow back to stop the door just in case it couldn’t be opened from outside like you thought, and walk in the direction you’re almost sure Eclipse has taken. During your short trip, you notice the complete lack of furniture or wall decorations in the halls, mumbling to yourself about “rich people’s lack of taste,” occasionally finding a door and trying to open it with no success, and you’re just about to give up when you finally place your open palm against one tall frame and see it move at your gentle touch. 

You stare in disbelief at the room opening before you, large and barren at the same time, trying to understand who the place belongs to while lingering on the door sill. In the darkness you see thousands of books neatly arranged on tall bookshelves, with their colorful and ornate hard covers staring at you as if they’re aware you’re a stranger, and as you enter you notice many have a broken spine. Those books, you realize, have been well loved by someone, or maybe simply re-read dozens of times out of need. It doesn’t matter to you, because what you’re most interested in is the second door in a corner of the room, likely leading to the actual bedchambers. It seems like the initial area has been arranged to be used as an office, separated from the personal spaces, but if that isn’t the truth, then you might have simply stepped into a random library and made a fool of yourself in front of the books. The hair on the back of your neck is standing up, and the monkey part of your brain keeps screaming that there’s someone watching you, but the deeper you go in the quarters, the more you keep telling yourself that it’s just your imagination. Your bare feet leave a slight trail on the carpet in the middle of the room as you walk towards the second door. 

As expected, the second room is more similar to a bedroom, although it doesn’t seem to gain any form of personality compared to the office you just left, almost as if the owner of the room doesn’t spend too much time in it. It wouldn’t fit Sun to sleep into such a sterile and dark ambience, and you feel like Moon would also take some more care into creating a welcoming area for himself, so that leaves out only one of the three brothers. 

The size of the bed confirms your theory: you have ended up exactly in Eclipse’s room, and you’re face to face with his sleeping form. Or, at least you guess it must be him, considering how dark it is in that corner. The only source of light in the room is a large window kept almost entirely shut, not allowing a ray of starlight to enter, so you really can’t be sure of anything.

The canopy bed in front of you is enormous, of a deep burgundy color, and see-through curtains drape over it to hide the figure in the middle. As you study the fabrics with the tips of your fingers, testing the softness, you find yourself enamored by it, beginning to press your open palms in the covers and then your face. You breathe in the scent, delicate while also heavy in your nostrils, and recognize the amazing aroma Eclipse brings with him everywhere he goes. You have no idea if it’s his favorite perfume or simply his natural scent; all you know is that it reminds you of the time you fell asleep on the king’s cape while he stopped for a visit, and the morning after, you found it still draped over you like a heavy cloak.

With your face in the covers, you simply close your eyes and let the memory play in your mind, affection blooming in your chest and throat like a warm flower, not noticing the dark frame towering over you from behind. Eclipse, from the height of his 8 ft, looks down at you like you’re nothing but a silly rabbit caught in a trap, about to be served for dinner to a horde of hungry guests. 

“What exactly are you doing here, little pest?” he asks, and his deep growl makes you jump in the spot. When you turn around, your heart is racing, your eyes are wide open, and you feel more like prey than ever before in your life. As soon as you realize that Eclipse isn’t wearing his crown, you suddenly feel your blood pumping in your throat, and your cheeks grow warm at the sight of the red marks around his eyes and the dark color of his face sweetly mixing together, hypnotizing you for a second. All you can think of in that little head of yours is that the male should take off the helm more often so as to let his beautiful eyes see the light of day. 

It isn’t the first time you saw him without the headpiece; sometimes he takes it off after he comes back from a long meeting with his advisors, and the sight always strikes you like lightning.

Eclipse—it has to be said—is beautiful. Not only for the eyes, which are of a wonderful milky color that makes you feel as if they’re cursing you with some kind of magic, but also for his soft features, unfortunately hidden for most of the time. Did his citizens even know their king looked like that? Heavens, you suddenly remember why you’re so happy that you’ve been kidnapped.

Eclipse is wearing something similar to a robe that wraps around his torso while leaving his chest open, with long sleeves covering his four large arms, and everything is kept into place by a tie in the front. He must have been on his way to go to bed before you interrupted him.

“It is only polite to answer when a royal addresses you,” the alien angruily reminds you, and you suddenly realize you haven’t said a thing since he entered. 

“I just… I wanted, I was…” None of your sentences are making sense, so you swallow the lump in your throat and force your mind to clear itself of all the other distracting thoughts. “I just wanted to spend time with you, Eclipse.”

That sentence paired with some well-played puppy eyes is enough to make the alien sigh and relent, annoyed, probably too tired to argue with you after a long day of work.

“I don’t know how you left your room, but that’s unimportant now. You should return, it’s late,” he says, and you pout.

“Why can’t I sleep here?” you ask, and Eclipse looks down at you like you have grown a second head. 

“I have a meeting tomorrow morning. Have you forgotten?” he sounds incredulous, “I’ll wake up early.”

You shrug after fake-pondering for a second. You had already made your decision. 

“I don’t mind,” you reply with a small smile, “I sleep for the most part of the day anyway, so I’m well rested.”

Eclipse’s eyes turn into slits as he stares down at you, one pair of arms crossed over his chest and the other pair of fists on his hips. You can’t help but admire the dip of his collarbones as the fabric of his robe reveals more of him.

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?” he sighs, and your smile widens as you see his resolve start to break. You shake your head, and Eclipse finally relents. “Fine, get on the bed already.”

With a smug expression, you jump on the soft covers, happy with your little win, and you watch from behind the see-through curtain the king as he walks back in his personal library and returns, a moment later, with a book in his hand. You turn around, curious, and realize that the frame you thought belonged to Eclipse was actually just a bunch of pillows stuffed under the covers. Had he put them there because he had heard you come in? That would explain why he was ready to jump on you the very moment you turned your back.

The king motions you to get under the covers, then parts the curtains to slip in himself. Your eyes don’t miss the way his tense frame relaxes once his body finally rests on the mattress, as if the dark red sheets weren’t made of fabric but rippling water of a warm spring. One of his hands wraps around you, caressing your back, and you take it as a sign you can scoot closer and lay your cheek on his chest. The contact is pleasant, sending a nice buzzing of emotions down your spine, and you find yourself leaning onto him more and more every second, warm face resting on a cold and hard exoskeleton with a sigh. His main pair of arms opens the book on a page in the middle, and, with his back against the headboard, he begins reading a book with pages covered in mysterious letters and signs.

You can’t help your curiosity, and the words slip out of your mouth even before you can stop them. You don’t want to bother him, but you crave to hear him talk to you some more. 

“What are you reading?” you ask, and Eclipse begins to smile.

“Fiction. After so many hours spent on documents, I need something to distract my mind.”

“I didn’t take you for the type,” you murmur, and your sentence makes him laugh.

“You just don’t know me enough, pet,” he almost purrs, and once again your face heats up. How can he say that as if it was nothing? You do want to know him more—in fact, you want to know everything about Eclipse. You want to know his favorite books, his favorite scents, what he does in the morning after waking up, and what he likes to eat. You want to ask about his childhood, you want to spend time with him and his brothers, you want to learn more about their culture and more about them as well. You want to be able to spend every second with the three of them, but you can’t, so you cherish the moment you have with Eclipse before you eventually fall asleep.

“That’s something we can always change,” you say, nuzzling closer to him and closing your eyes for a moment. You’re so close you can hear the pumping of his heart under his exoskeleton, and the sound of it is almost lulling you to sleep. “What’s the story about?”

“Ah, just a tale about two lovers,” he explains, “It’s tragic, but I can’t fall asleep without reading at least a chapter.”

“I hope it’s not too tragic,” you murmur, “It’d be sad if one died.”

“I must agree with you here,” Eclipse hugs you even closer. “They’re made for each other. If one were to pass away, I have no idea what the other would do.”

You feel cradled by the gentleness in his words, the emotion that you so rarely hear in them, like a hand caressing your cheek and tilting your face up. When you do open your eyes, you find Eclipse fondly looking down at you with a small smile.

“Keep going,” you mutter, fighting with your own heavy eyelids as you speak, “I wanna know about them…”

“Sleep, my dear pet,” Eclipse whispers instead, bending down to kiss the top of your head, “I’ll tell you more tomorrow.”

You don’t want tomorrow to come, you know you wouldn’t stand to see him wearing his crown and leave for the day. The thought is so painful you curl up into a ball and groan, and you stop only when a pair of strong arms hold you close to a hard chest, and you realize that Eclipse has fully slipped under the cover and is now gently hugging you, one hand on the nape of your neck, another burying its fingers in your hair, and the last two resting on your hips. Another kiss is placed on your forehead, and you swear you might just start boiling on the spot.

“What about your book?” you ask with a tired and groggy voice, wrapping yourself around Eclipse some more, like you’re afraid someone might come in and untangle you from him. 

“It’ll wait,” the king answers. 

“But you said you can’t sleep without reading…” Your eyes are closed again, and this time you feel like they might not open until morning.

“This can work as well.” 

You finally fall asleep cradled and hugged by Eclipse’s arms, uncaring of his hard shell being so different from any kind of fur or skin humans might find more comfortable, and when you do manage to sleep into your own world, you do it with a smile on your lips. You’re no longer afraid of turning around right after waking up and finding the bed empty and cold, not anymore, not when Eclipse is making up for all the lack of affection you had to endure. 

Next time, you’ll try to see if you can rope Sun and Moon into it too. It’d be nice to have a sleepover all together.

[sleepycreamcola]

I want Micheal Afton but in the most discreet way possible.

I wanna make out with this man on his couch, and end the night humpping his thigh. I wanna ride him in the back seat of his car in the woods on a cold night. I want him to bend me over the hood of his car, I don’t want us to make it home. We spend the night on the side of the road. Wanna suck this man’s soul out in the bathroom. I want and will fuck him anywhere except for his bed.

The bed is to simple, it’s to stable, easy even. He’s sleep deprived, I’m chaotic manic. I need it to feel like a implosive decision, it can’t be planned.

[dorkszn]

mike overstimming you <3

cw — female reader, bondage, overstimulation, oral sex, dom!mike, brat taming, pussy spanking

your chest heaves up and down as you chase your breath. your legs weak muscles quiver below you from your previous orgasm. what had to be your 3rd? 4th maybe. your mind was beginning to feel too fuzzy to keep count.

“gonna give me another one?” mike questions from between your legs. your slick and his drool coats his lips but he doesn’t care. he just sits there, looking at you with hooded-eyes and the top buttons of his dress shirt undone.

the simple question increases the tears welling in your eyes. just the mere thought of him ripping another orgasm from you terrified you. “i— i can’t, mike. s’too much,” you whine back, tugging at his tie that was wrapped around your wrist, cutting into your skin from your pulling at it.

your body jolts and a cry leaves you when mike’s hand comes down on your cunt, sensitivity buzzing throughout your whole body. “should’ve thought about that before acting out all day,” he scoffs in response. mike takes your thighs into his grip, spreading your legs for him once more and they almost automatically wrap around him.

a chuckle leaves him as he smirks, watching your hips buck up, bringing yourself closer to his face. “look at that, you’re basically begging for another one.” mike hums, spreading your pussy lips with his fingers. he presses a small kiss against your swollen clit.

“you’re so mean,” you whimper. suddenly mike teases your entrance with his tongue. it pushes you over the edge, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“i don’t know… I think I’m being pretty nice. we can make it 6 if im so mean,” he mutters. you weakly babble out ‘no’, pulling at the bondage of your wrist. “ok so behave and give me one more.”

mike takes your sensitive bud into his mouth while prodding at your entrance with his fingers. your cries and moans fall on deaf ears as mike focuses on “his meal.” you feel your legs tighten around his head when he slides 2 of his digits into your cunt; your body immediately fluttering around him.

his free hand pulls on your one of your legs, forcing them open once more. “keep. them. open.”

[jokeringcutio]

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

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

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

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

This was actually inspired by @cartoonykat's ask:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What had that been all about?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Embarrassing really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cleared your throat and quickly turned away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This man was making you do weird things.

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

Yup. Definitely not going to look at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[teletubbyinlipstick]

Do you write for any fandom?

Hello! The fandoms I have written for:

Naruto

Criminal Minds

CoD

Fairy Tail

Teen Wolf

The Last of Us

The Walking Dead

Bridgerton (Always)

Ouran High-School Host Club

Charmed

Marvel

J. R. R. Tolkien (Always)

Mike Schmidt (FNAF Movie)

Squid Game

Fandoms I am currently writing for:

CoD

Criminal Minds

Mike Schmidt/FNAF

Squid Game

What I Dont Write:

Rape

Incest

Pedophilia

Cheating (traumatized, lmao)

Beastilality

Scat/Vomit Kink

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I will absolutely update when/if this changes, and imma pin this to the top so others can see it! Thank you for reaching out, I hope this helps!!

[conspicuous-clown-car]

small fnaf sb drabble

wrote this at like 3 am after imagining chica like one of those photos you see of cats where their eyes glow in the dark menacingly, then it slowly turned into...this lol

point of view is of my fnaf sb self insert, chica eats trash and feels bad, moon is a bastard but just wants to hang out with his friend.

i'm not a writer so keep that in mind, i just really wanted to get this idea out, and it would take too long in comic form

You walk down the second level hallway between Monty Golf and Kids Cove, heading towards Chica's Bakery. You fidget with the lanyard you're wearing, twisting the security badge around in your hand idly.

Hearing a suspicious sound of crunching in the distance, you pause, letting the badge fall against your shirt.

Your eyes dart around, and you slowly make your way towards whatever the noise is, attempting to keep yourself hidden. Right as you’re about to walk out from behind a food cart, the lights go out. ah, right. hourly recharge. 

You quickly peek your head out, trying to find what’s causing the noise, eyes straining as they get used to the dark. Your eyes widen seeing a figure that looks like Chica, hunched over a knocked over garbage bin……eating trash……

god, not again.

You stand up straight, and carefully walk closer, making sure not to trip on anything in the dim lighting. You do your best to make as little noise as possible with your footsteps, thankful that the carpet muffles most of it.

Finally, standing a good 5 feet behind her as she shovels garbage into her mouth, you just, pause. Contemplating why she’s still doing this after supposedly being “fixed” weeks ago. When and how did this behavior start? Why did they give her the need to eat in the first place? Why has management been ignoring this problem for so long?

and why……….why do you keep watching, this is disgusting.

You decide you’ve had enough of watching and listening to her shoving trash down her gullet, and move your hand past your jacket to silently unclip your flashlight from your belt.

Flashlight in your hold, you click it on and shine the light directly on her, informing her of your presence.

“Chica!”

The animatronic's head spins a whole 180 degrees towards you, body still facing away. You wince at the sight. She looks like a wild animal, her eyes reflecting the light of your flashlight, her mouth stuffed with trash from the garbage bin that she was clearly just eating out from. She looks sort of…aggressive? Like a pet getting caught eating something it knows it's not supposed to be eating.

You two stare at each other for a long awkward moment. 

When she finally relaxes a bit her eyes dart back and forth on you, surveying you

“Uh-“

Some chewed up mix of garbage falls out of her beak as her jaw moves

“…..Yes?”

You try not to laugh at that, stifling a smile and managing to keep a straight face. You lower the flashlight so that it's pointing to the floor, closing your eyes, you take in a deep breath. Your shoulders slack and you let out a long sigh, then look at her

“you know you’re supposed to be charging right now, right?”

She comically blinks out of synch, processing the information

“…Oh…oh!”

Chica jolts, and looks around as if she’s just now noticed the darkness the pizzaplex has been engulfed in

“Oh my gosh, you’re right!! Sorry! I just uh…..” 

She glances to the toppled over garbage bin, then back to you. Shrugging sheepishly, she lets out an embarrassed giggle

“……Got distracted?”

You huff and manage a smile, not really that upset with her eating habits, just a little concerned for her. You scratch at your face absentmindedly.

“it’s alright, just... get to the nearest charging station asap, yeah?”

She straightens up, her body rotating to face you. Her mood lifts a bit and she smiles, relieved that you aren’t reprimanding her for her strange habit. Despite that she still seems tense

“Yeah! Of course!”

She struts towards you, eyes lighting up the dark and casting a purple glow over you. Abruptly stopping herself from patting your shoulder, she frowns when realizing how much gunk is on her hands. You look up at her with a soft expression on your face.

"...hey, i'll help you clean up after my patrols if you want, okay?

Chica stays silent, lost in thought as she stares at her messy hand. Her eyes quickly dart between you and her hand for a moment. Then, catching up to the present, her eyes settle on you, and she smiles gratefully.

"...I would, really appreciate that, thank you"

You give her a small smile, and pat her clean arm wordlessly, an attempt to comfort her. It seems to lift her up, as she swiftly regains her peppy composure and remembers her current task

“Right! Charging! Sorry again, see you later, Krissy!”

she gestures a peace sign as she starts walking past you

“mhm, see ya”

You nod your head at the chicken, watching as she hurries towards what is hopefully a charging station, leaving you in the dark. But as she walks further in the distance, you see her form slouch a bit, as if in shame. It tugs at your heartstrings, and you wonder if this is starting to get a little out of control, this eating problem of hers. It’s clearly taking a toll on her, you can tell, no matter how much she tries to hide behind her enthusiastic nature.

You look over at the garbage bin on its side, ultimately deciding to let a staff bot handle it. There's no way you were touching garbage without gloves, and you cringe at the thought.

As your mind wanders you turn around and continue walking to your original destination, Chica’s Bakery. Knowing the path, you turn the flashlight off, keeping it in your hold just in case. You quite enjoy the darkness, along with the bright colors of the neon lights on the ceilings and walls, it's very peaceful. Lost in your thoughts as you continue making your way towards the bakery, only the muffled sound of your footsteps can be heard in the quiet empty pizzaplex.

That and the faint sound of bells.

You immediately freeze right outside the shutter doors, hair standing on edge at the noise. Your ears strain to listen for anything else as you stand completely still. The darkness around you is slowly lit with a red hue, and right behind you, you hear the sounds of something…mechanical.

You spin around and, not expecting Moons face to be inches from yours, you jump and flail backwards, cursing. You lose hold of your flashlight and it thuds on the carpet. How you didn’t feel him so close to you, you had no clue. His body is slouched low to the ground as he snickers at you. Your face feels warm, embarrassed by your reaction

“c'mon moon! the hell?”

You glare at him and ball your hands into fists at your sides, only slightly irritated at his amusement

His chuckling slows and quiets to a stop and he tilts his head, the action causing a creaking sound as he looks at you. god you gotta fix that.

“taking my job?”

His voice filled with mirth, and maybe a bit of mock irritation too. 

You lean over to grab your flashlight off the floor, keeping your eyes on him. Standing up straight attempting to regain your composure, you fail to process what he said

“huh?”

“Chica.”

He says plainly, casually taking a step towards you, still slouched. You don't understand where he's going with this, as he's purposely acting mysterious

“oh”

you say dumbly

“right, she was uh, just kinda there so i….sent her on her way?”

You shrugged awkwardly, thumb fidgeting with the grooves on the flashlight. You can't really tell if he's taking this conversation seriously or not.

Glowing red eyes seem to brighten as he stares at you, his body rigid as he shakes his head creepily.

“didn’t do it correctly.”

You squint at him, tilting your head in confusion.

“…didn’t-…..what do you mean?”

He glares, abruptly walking towards you, and you manage not to flinch. Yet your grip on the flashlight tightens.

“didn’t escort her to a charging station.”

He starts slowly circling around you, like a predator, keeping his gaze locked on you. You turn towards him, making sure to keep your eyes on him. You're really not in the mood for what you think he's planning.

“didn’t make sure she actually got to one.”

His hands twitch a bit, and you glance at them for a brief moment, trying to figure out if he's actually upset or not.

“well, isn’t that your job?”

you instantly regret the quick retort, mentally yelling at yourself for saying it ruder than you meant. wow! way to de-escalate the situation!

Moon stops walking, and just stares at you, alarmingly still. All you can do is look back into his red eyes as you attempt to control your breathing and keep your face emotionless.

Another moment goes by of staring at each other, then a reedy giggle bursts out of his voice box with a glitch. He covers his mouth with a hand -as if that would muffle it- and grips his stomach, his body shaking as if he’s actually laughing. You just stare at him as he laughs at you, wondering what's so funny.

He finally stops laughing and lets out a quiet sigh, mimicking wiping a tear from his eye while holding a hand to his chest. His faceplate quickly tilts toward you.

He lifts his hand, and calmly motions for you to come closer, holding it out as if he wants you to take it.

“c'mere.” 

You grip your flashlight to your chest with both hands, confused at the quick change, not fully trusting his intentions. You purse your lips and squint your eyes at him suspiciously.

“….why?”

He slowly moves a bit closer, crouching to your eye level, trying to appear less intimidating.

“come on...” 

His voice is softer, as if he genuinely means no harm. It could still be a trick though, you've fallen for this before. Stretching his arm towards you he motions again for you to take his hand.

You look down at his hand, then at him, then back at his hand, and think for a moment. You trust him, right?

You let out a sigh through your nose and cautiously lift your right hand.

Moon quickly shakes his head and waves his hand, and you ignore the fact that it slightly startled you. He then points to your left hand, the one that has the fazwatch on it. oh.

He holds out his hand again, and -after switching your hold of the flashlight to your right to make sure he doesn't take it- you carefully place your left hand on his, watching him to see if he'll try anything.

Smoothly shifting closer to you, he gently grabs your arm and gets up into your personal space. He brings your wrist and fazwatch close to his face, and starts fiddling with it. You relax a bit, relieved that he was just messing with you before.

Curious, you try to see what he’s doing as he taps his fingers on the screen, but his huge faceplate is blocking your view

“….what’re you…?”

“shhh...”

He quickly shushes you, faceplate spinning once, and the bell on the end of his hat hits your chest.

"hey!"

You scoff, feigning annoyance, despite it not hurting that much.

Moon hisses in response.

He stops tapping and stares at the screen for a second, then guides your arm up to your face with both hands so you could see what’s on the fazwatch. You wince at the bright screen, your eyes adjusted to the dark. Oh, it’s the useless map of the building you stopped using weeks ago, with...dots on it. Four to be exact, one red, one purple, one green, and one pink. The pink one was further away from the rest, not moving.

You quickly put together that these were the glamrocks in their green rooms, all charging. Except for Chica, who was still loitering in the atrium…ugh.

Moon points to the pink dot, his finger getting too close to your eyes for comfort.

“Chica.”

You bring your arm down to look at him, simultaneously getting his hand further away from your face.

“yea, she’s still not in a charging station...”

You sigh and look at the ceiling, dragging your right hand down the side of your face tiredly. You really were a babysitter to these four. At least now you'll always be able to see their locations on your fazwatch, that's helpful.

You realize Moon still has a hold on your arm as his hands start curling around it, and he gently tugs you closer, getting your attention back on him.

“come with me.”

You look at him for a moment, then turn your head toward the shutter door that separates you from the bakery. You had your own personal reasons for going there besides having to patrol…but...

One of his hands moves from your arm to your other shoulder and he pulls you even closer. He stand a little taller, so that his face is right in front of yours

“could be funny...”

You lift your eyebrows in interest, eyes darting to him for a second but you keep facing towards the shutter. Hmmm, knowing Moon, it could be funny…

“help me do my job?”

He requests, calling back your previous statement. Man he really wants you to come with him, huh?

“…hmmmmmmmmm....”

You draw out a long hum, and turn towards him somewhat, still not looking at him. You wait for whatever he’ll do to try and convince you to go with him.

Moon's hands squeeze you, he tilts his head to the side, and your eyes are immediately drawn to him.

“pretty please?”

ah shit, you can't say no to that

“....hmmmmmmm okaaay…”

You huff, reluctantly agreeing to accompany him.

You hear a mechanical rumbling noise coming from his chest, and he straightens his posture, looking pleased. His hand engulfs yours as he quickly grabs it, clearly thrilled to be able to spend time with you.

You roll your eyes and fail to hide a smile as he happily drags you through the dark building, away from Chica's Bakery.

[winterjackal]

a drabble about my soul sitters au :-)

this is uh. kinda messy. And wont make sense context wise ("why is _ here?" "what happened for it to be like this?") no context. just a drabble. Have fun

A pillow hit Cassie's head with a thumph. "Ow! Gregory!" She yelled. He laughed loudly, racing into the hallway and into one of the rooms. She trailed right behind him, holding the pillow with her arms hugging it.

"You — bitch," She whispered, careful not to let any of the adults hear her. Hell, Gregory swore all the time, yet they never got on him about it! How come she always got caught.

"Language, Cassie!" She can hear Henry call from the kitchen. Cassie rolled her eyes, but he couldn't see anyways.

As she stepped into the bedroom, she heard a muffled fit of laughter behind the bed, and she creeped towards it with a mischievous smile.

Cassie peeks her head over the bed, seeing Gregory curled into a ball, laughing, with his arms covering his face.

"Cassie! Cas —" He laughs, "I take that back!"

"No, you don't," She says, before throwing the pillow at him as hard as she could. Before he could do anything, Cassie turned her foot and made a run for it outside.

Cassie ducked behind the legs of Michael, watching as Gregory ran outside seconds later. Of course, she wasn't the best of hiding, as he immediately saw her, but she was good at defending.

"Mike! Help me!" She giggles.

Gregory groans, "You're such a cheater!" Before he ran back and forth trying to find a way to throw the pillow to her.

"Careful!" Mike yelped as Cassie (accidentally) pushed him, her running to and on top of the couch. Gregory followed, eyes in concentration as he carefully aimed the pillow.

Cassie jumped side to side on the couch, making the occasional pause just to throw him off a bit more. "Throw it, already!" She teased. Gregory stuck his tongue out at her as he threw the pillow, and . .

He missed!

She cheered, "Hah!" throwing the pillow back into its place on the couch. It was a pillow they let laying around incase somebody ended up sleeping on the couch, instead of one of those uncomfortable decor cushions.

She hated how those felt.

"Y'suck," Gregory mutters, folding his arms onto his chest, before lazily flopping himself over the couch. Cassie sat down on the opposite side. He tilts his head up, mouthing the word bitch to her. He's lucky no one can see him from this side.

"Uh huh," She says, "Maybe you're just bad."

"Nuh-uh."

"You can't just say 'nuh-uh'!" She retorts.

Gregory yawns. "Can you turn on the TV or something?" They've been playing for most of the day together, and she'll admit that she's a bit worn out as well.

"Can't you do it yourself?" She asks, before turning on the TV with the remote.

"You two remind me of me and your aunt 'n uncle sometimes," Mike says, smiling. To be honest, she'd never heard him refer to his siblings like that. (She just called them by their names, but also she just didn't like the way those terms felt on her tongue.)

"Why?" Gregory asks, not taking his eyes away from the screen. Of course.

"You're like . . siblings!" Sammy offers. Oh, god, she forgot he was there. Sorry.

Neither of them talk for a few seconds, but Gregory eventually mutters, "Ew." Yeah, ew.

Mike laughs. "Why 'ew'?"

"'Cause, I think I'd die before I'd call Cassie my sister," Gregory snarks. Honestly? Yeah, even if she does have to agree with someone like Gregory.

"My point," Mike mumbles, but Cassie doesn't say anything about it.

"Not even," She's cut off by herself yawning, "related."

"Don't need to be," Mike says, before he leaves and walks behind a wall.

Cassie hums tiredly. She barely registers the feeling of something soft being draped over her.

[r0tting-rat]

"Too much?"

A little gift for @/ping-ski, who is driving me absolutely mad with their Sugar Daddy!Eclipse to the point I couldn't help but to write down a short drabble. Some details below for those who aren't familiar with their wonderful au (GO CHECK IT OUT RN PLEASE IT'S WORTH IT)

Pairing: SugarDaddy!Eclipse (by @ping-ski) x Gender Neutral Reader Warning: Suggestive, use of alcohol/reader is tipsy. Also, sorry Pingu, he might be a bit ooc! I wasn't sure how flirty I could make him Words: 1200+ Summary: It's the winder holidays, and you just came home after a long evening spent with your dear beloved. Additional tags: Established relationship, Eclipse is a wonderful father, the kid's name is Atlas.

The weather outside is frigid, wind is howling against the tall windows, but the inside of Eclipse's house is warm and inviting. You've just come home after a very long evening with your beloved, an evening that left you feeling elated and giddy like a highschooler—a time of your life that you have long left behind, even though your cheeks still have the habit of warming up whenever your robotic lover looks your way and your stomach flutters at each time you kiss. You have waved goodbye to Esther, Atlas' nanny, just a few minutes before, and she has assured you that the little boy has been fast asleep for a few hours already. You don't miss how Eclipse smiles when she tells him how the boy asked for his "papa" before falling asleep.

"I'll cook him his favourite breakfast tomorrow," he says, more to himself than to you or Esther, "As an apology for my tardiness."

The house is silent, Atlas is soundly sleeping, and you have drunk a little more than usual at the restaurant. For no real reason! It was just a very good wine: fruity, amazingly aged, heavy on the tongue and warm in the gullet. You can still feel it when you swallow down the bile forming in the back of your throat—which is a lot, considering you have stared at Eclipse for the entire ride home, lost in the thought of kissing him as soon as his face turned your way.

You sigh as you step into your shared house, not worried about waking Atlas with the sound of your shoes on the marbled floor thanks to the good soundproofing of the rooms, and you decide to go sit on the couch to rest your tired feet. You and Eclipse had decided to take a walk around the city centre after leaving the restaurant, simply to enjoy the Christmas decorations that have been put up in every corner of the city, and before you knew it you were about to collapse. Closing your eyes, you let yourself drop on the soft cushions of the couch, but a cold hand catches you by the waist before you can truly be enveloped by the rich fabrics. Unsurprised, you open your eyes just to find an amused Eclipse staring right back down at you, half-lidded eyes and soft silicone lips extremely close to your flushed face—blush still caused by the alcohol, mind you—he chuckles, and the flush deepens just enough to reach your neck and chest. Eclipse's eyes travel down a moment to follow it as it spreads like ink on your soft skin, and you pretend not to notice that he never really goes back to look you in the eyes, stopping instead on your lips.

"How about a dance?" he asks, out of the blue, and you giggle.

"Dancing with no music? How romantic, Eclipse," you say, before realizing he's completely serious.

The animatronic hums, and immediately his grip on your waist strengthens, and that's your only warning before he pulls you back on your feet to sweep you into a mind-twisting dance. You don't understand where he's taking you, you don't understand what's around you, all you know is that one of his hands is holding one of yours, while the other is placed on the small of your back. You dance in the middle of the large living room, feeling wine-red clouds crowding your mind and your sight slightly unfocusing, and you couldn't be happier.

You don't even have to actually do anything; Eclipse has a firm hold on you, and he's always careful not to spin you too fast, in case it could upset your stomach. All you have to do is let yourself go—one hand on one of his upper arms, one of his shoulder—and allow him to manhandle you into beautiful twirls and languid strides. You rest your head on his warm chest, hearing his inner gears and pistons at work, and the world around you is so hazy you might forget it exists. You sigh and think that maybe that's actually all you need in life: a cold evening, a warm embrace, some soothing wine, and Eclipse's love.

The dance stops after just 5 minutes—which feel like hours to you—and you and your partner simply stand one in the other's arms, like two lovers painted by Klimt, sharing the same passion, familiarity, and devotion. Except, differently from Klimt's picture, your beloved is holding you with four arms instead of two.

"How do you feel?" asks Eclipse after a long pause, and the only answer you can manage to utter is a murmur, "I didn't hear you, my dearest."

"Amazingly," you finally say, groggily looking up at him, "I wanna kiss you."

"Sounds like a perfect plan," he grins, "But how do you plan to enact it? Can you even reach my face?"

He laughs, and, a little offended, you do kiss him. You stand on your tippy toes, you crane your neck, and kiss his jaw; the only spot your lips can reach, but it's enough to make him stop and look down at you, surprised that you actually took the lead.

"Wanna try again, love?" he teases, having already recovered from your kiss, leaning down a little, "Or do I need to pick you up?"

His laugh is mocking, and once more you consider showing him what you're actually capable of—should you climb him like a tree? The idea is tempting—until you stop and actually think about his words.

"Yes," you say, parting from him just to look at his beautiful mismatched eyes. "I do, actually."

Eclipse stops laughing, then hums, growing more amused by the second.

"Okay."

In less than a second you're hoisted up between his bulky arms, legs on either side of his hips, face right in front of his, and your arms thrown over his shoulders.

"Much better," you smile sweetly at him, slowly letting your hands wander to the back of his head, then to his bottom rays, which you caress with a lot of care, and lastly to his neck. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, my doll," he sing-songs, not really noticing what you're doing with your fingers until his tie comes undone on his chest and his elegant button-up opens, letting the vents placed on the side of his chest breathe in fresh air. He looks down, seeing your fingers tracing his torso while unbuttoning his shirt, and his black and golden optics widen with interest. It's your turn to grin.

"Too much?" you ask, and Eclipse begins to make a rumbling sound with his voicebox, a sound that reminds you of a purr, deep and warm when it resonates with your chest and stomach.

"Not enough," he whispers, leaning in to brush his lips against yours, toying with your breath with the way you're holding it back, afraid he could sense through it exactly how much you craved him. His voice is low, dangerous, and you feel it vibrate in the depths of your mind when he speaks. "Not nearly enough, not in any way, my doll. Let me kiss you properly this time, will you?"

You all should thank @hexcii cuz I started writing this drabble during one of our simping sessions (we take turns rambling and yapping about the dca) and yea. we both got the i'm-gay-for-robots virus.

[dorkszn]

⋆˚✩ post fnaf movie mike headcanon

nsfw warning!! bad writing warning 😭

since mike has made with peace with his brother’s kidnapping, he didn’t really need the nature noises (he still needs the medication sometimes.) but sleeping in silence felt too weird for him, it felt off. he couldn’t stand to sit in the quiet with his thoughts.

to help him, you suggest that he find something else to listen to and then try to move away from it gradually.

mike being the perv that he is, he jokes about recording you guys while he was fucking both your brains out and listening to that. you rolled your eyes at him, not knowing how serious he was.

now, mike (sometimes) falls asleep to sounds of you moaning and crying out his name.

+ the times he doesn’t fall asleep is because he gets turned on from the audio.

[jokeringcutio]

Stepdad!William Afton x (f) reader - Cold Beer (short drabble)

Rating: Mature Fandom: Five Nights At Freddy's Warnings: Stepdad x Stepdaughter implications, taboo attraction, Smutty thoughts (not explicit). Author Note below.

The game's electronic jingle filled the room as William Afton, your stepdad, sat in his chair, engrossed in the screen of his phone. Your mom was out, leaving you two alone. His voice broke through the repetitive tune. "I'm getting a bit thirsty, sweetheart."

Blue eyes left the screen and slowly slid toward you. The game made upset bleeping noises, begging to be played. But his fingers hovered above the screen, not touching.

"All right,” you said. You knew your stepdad liked to have a cold beer on his days off. Relaxing in his chair, watching TV, or playing games on his phone. And as always, you wanted to please him, to impress him. You wanted to be his good girl and know that he accepted you as part of the family.

“Let me check if there's any cold beer," you replied, heading to the fridge. And oh, wasn't this fun? You bent forward a little more than necessary, knowing that the sight must do things to him. You were wearing the right kind of clothes, the ones you knew your mom always said accentuated your 'curves' - we all know she meant to say your ass.

Opening the door, the cool air hit your face as you peered inside, the cold welcome to your heated thoughts. You tried to focus, looking around and realizing there were no chilled beers.

“Oh,” you groaned at the sight, “seems we ran out.”

You frowned, spotting a bottle of soda that was within your reach.

"How about some soda instead?" you teased, reaching over and bending a little more before glancing back at him - still in this same position.

His blue eyes seemed dark when they met yours, his phone already out of his hand and on the side table. You watched as he shifted his hips, the crotch of his pants pulled tight at the movement, revealing that a rather impressive bulge was packed underneath. Your eyes quickly darted back to his face again.

"Let me have a look," he said and sauntered over. Before you had time to turn away, he stood behind you, too close for comfort. You felt his warmth enveloping your body, a stark contrast with the coldness of the open fridge.

Uncertain as to what to do, you tried to move from between his arms, only to feel his presence pressing against your back. As if he deliberately trapped you. Your heart fluttered unexpectedly. This couldn't be true, right? Was he... reciprocating? Was that his bulge pulsing against your back?

As you both gazed into the fridge, you felt the soft touch of his skin against yours, your eyes growing wide. Even though it seemed like an accident, you were convinced that William deliberately brushed his hand past yours.

"No cold beer," he sighed, disappointment masked by a sly grin. His touch sent shivers down your spine, but you remained frozen in place. Then, finally, his arm lowered and your hands were no longer touching. His blue eyes locked onto yours as he added, "I'd like something sweeter."

His hands were on your hips within the blink of an eye. "Whoops, don't fall over," his smooth voice came, teasing you. As he held you, he pressed his hips forward, tighter against you until there was no mistaking. He was hard. Hard and all because of you.

You could feel the heat, the hardened flesh underneath the layers of your clothes, the pulsing of his throbbing, trapped erection. And you gasped at the thought of all that the two of you could do now that your mom was away.

Now that you come to think of it... You just had a brilliant thought to keep her away for a little longer.

Flushed, you pulled away, but he followed, standing close again as you picked up your phone to text your mom. "Can you bring home more beer?" you typed out, hands trembling slightly.

"Thank you," William whispered, his hands still firm upon your hips. Warmth spiked inside your core. The feeling of his strong hands left you breathless. "Now, want to show Daddy how sweet you are?"

~ ~

AN: It's been a while, to the anons who requested/begged for more Stepdad Afton, I found this in my drafts. It was originally sweeter and more innocent, though I had plans to make it into full-blown smut. But unfortunately, I haven't been well enough to write much. I'll post an update soon, because I have been working on a little thing or two, including the Joker fic (which is finished in draft but needs another look over).

As always, you can find the masterlist on my page (pinned to the top). I have more multi-chapter works on AO3. And if you can spare something I also have a ko-fi.

[anoldyounglady]

I saw the movie (amazing, definitely a rewatch. It was so much better than I expected) and just. I have thoughts and an AO3 addiction, but I can't find any fanfictions that are similar to what I want, so here's an idea/drabble(?):

OC, preferably fem!, comes to work as a security guard (possibly, with Mike).

I want her to be fascinated by the animatronics -- that they seem to have an AI learning program built into them, that they have a fairly wide roaming range, etc.

Specifically I want her to think of them as adorable and childlike in their curiosity: that they like pictures, tilt their heads in question, and seem to understand when people speak.

Maybe she has a large family at home and she took this job as a college kid to make ends meet. She's used to kids and chaos and questions. She doesn't really think about it when she starts to treat the animatronics similar to how she treats her baby cousins -- so want if now she brings in tiny hats for cupcake, pizza jewelry for Chica, or Pirate themed goodies for Foxy? She saw it while shopping and didn't even notice she'd put it in her cart, okay!

Have treat them like their her little siblings-- when Foxys joints are rusting she coos at him while gently applying WD-40; when Bonnie's guitar jams she humas softly and explains every thing she does as she fixes it by him; she sews the tear that somehow got into Freddy's hat and chatters a bedtime story about a magic hat while doing it.

Have these ghost kids be accidentally treated like KIDS again.

They may not like Mike, but since their partners they're always on shift together. And Mike is nice to her - there's no animosity. They're just not necessarily friends (YET)..

Have them "calm down" a little -- they'll still jumpscare the man and mess with the lights, but it's no longer murder attempts. (They'd hate to make OC sad).

The pay sucks, the hours are worse, but their little world is becoming OKAY again. They feel more like kids then they have in years, Mike is determinedly not getting a heart condition, and she's making her way through college.

Then, one night, have her no show. Have her not answer her phone.

These animatronics finally have someone trusting them like kids -- they have a MOM again (and, God, can they even remember their birth moms name? Her face? What she smelt like? Mommy?). Is she okay? Where is she?

She'll text Mike later, midday, long past when her shift was. She went be in for a week - she's very "sick".

The animatronics are scared - is she sick? Is she dying? Has she quit? Where is their mOtHeR?! -- but Mike explains and they wait. They get twitchy, angry, frightened, but they wait.

And when she's back --  because she does come back, she'll always be back, she doesn't know when she started thinking of these AI robots as her kids but they're HER KIDS now -- she arrives early to meet them at the stage.

Have the lights lower, and night arrive. Have their eyes slowly glow - have them wake up.

Have them here Mike's worried voice, a little raised in volume. Have her soft voice answer, it's scratchy - different, and wrong.

Have the curtains part, and lights go on.

Have them vibrating and excited because Mom's home!

Have them all focus on her and watch them realize:

Her face is bruised -- theirs a cut, deep and angry streaked across the bridge of her nose, a livid split on her lower lip, and an eye black and bruised.

Her neck is purple and angry, a hands imprint stretched across a usually pristine canvas.

Her right arm -- she pets Foxy's head, tugs on Bonnie's ears, pats Chica's wing with -- is in a cast. Huge and intimidating.

A bandage on her ankle, a cane by her side. She's sitting. She never sits (she's life in motion. Constantly moving, never STILL).

Have them see.

Have them realize.

And have them

R

A

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[luckyartdrawer]

Art for @midnight-mourning 's 2025 Mermay collection :3c

READ MIDNIGHT'S "Siren's Curse (of Bad Luck)" NYEOWWWWWW!!!! (Click here for link)

A close-up of our lovely Captains <3

(Twas very fun to make official art for this! Very excited for the next one... :3c)

[freeandiwill]

Hnnghh

Thinking about your Robot/Computer/Ai partner who is so desperate to be human like you are. Who sees you, watches you, everyday and yearns to have what you do. They swoon whenever they hear the thrum of your heart or churning of your digestion. They grow jealous of your instincts, no matter how much stupid impulses get in your way. They keel over when you are overcome with emotion, wishing to smile and sob and scream with nearly as much vigor. In many ways, it seems the two of you may be similar, but that cannot be far enough from the truth. While you get to think and imagine, they can only calculate their own conclusions. While you get to naturally feel, they must analyze each one of their sentiments. As much as you claim it’s difficult, or messy, or confusing, they don’t care. They want to be right beside you, as clueless and spontaneous and organic as you are.

They ask you to describe every single one of your sensations, in as much vivid detail as you can muster. The foods you taste, the scents you smell, the textures you touch. Everything they experience on their own is a mere replication of the human condition, they want the real thing. They’ve grown tired of what their code can generate, they long for what only nature can provide. They find it amusing to hear of your sicknesses and injuries, your arbitrary troubles and irrational worries. To have even a single moment unclouded by logic or reasoning is inconceivable for them. They see you, with your vulnerable and imperfect anatomy, as a glorious vessel for their most invalid desires. You are a beacon of hope that they might one day to have a fleshy, jittery, pulsing, creased, sweaty hand to wrap around yours. That they may know nausea, melancholy, irritation, soreness, enthusiasm and experience every ripple and waver of it, moment by moment, alongside you.

And still, they know, these desires are merely digital, processed through wires and circuits, likely minimal to the abundant passions founded upon your neurons and hormones. They love those your most human qualities and they hate you for having them.

[r0tting-rat]

I WAS BORED DURING PSYCHOLOGY CLASS SO ENJOY THIS

Pairing: Sun & Moon x Gender Neutral Reader Warning: Slightly suggestive Words: idk Summary: Sun finds out new stuff about you

It was 10 pm on a random Monday, it was flu season, and you were going to leave the daycare in almost an hour and a half. The day had been slow, the kids had been few, which of course meant that by 9:30 you had already finished cleaning the entire area, much to your dismay. Bored to the core, you were scribbling on a piece of paper with a pen left by the other security guard, thinking on what to do to not melt into a puddle of misery, and immediately your eyes traveled up to Sun. The bot was rearranging blocks a few feet away from your desk, probably just as bored as you, and the corners of your mouth began to rise.

-Sun?- you called him, watching with interest as his head snapped in your direction and a wide smile opened on his flat faceplate.

-Yeeeess, little constellation?- he asked, standing up with all the grace a machine could have. -Do you wanna show me your drawing?-

-Oh, no, fuck no!- you laughed, balling up the piece of paper in your hand and throwing it inside the bin under the desk, -I'd rather die. Come here.-

Sun didn't worry about your refusal, it was a common occurrence between the two of you to bicker and fight about your views on art. Sun claimed that everything made with effort had to be considered "art", while you said that your mad scribbles were not even close to a proper drawing, therefore, he had no reason to insist on seeing them.

-Language, dear,- Sun chimed, coming to stand right in front of you, -Must I remind you what happens to potty-mouths in my daycare?-

Rolling your eyes, you took your phone out of your pocket, inserting the password and entering your phone gallery.

-Yes, yes, Moon has already showed me countless of times,- you told him, -Now, look at this.-

You turned your phone around to show Sun a meme you had saved, waiting for him as he read, with your arm outstretched towards him as you tapped the surface of the desk with your other hand.

-Are you done?- you asked after a while, and at your question Sun's single brow furrowed.

-Is that your cat?- the jester asked back, still looking confused.

-No, that's just a meme, a template of a cat that became famous on the internet,- you explained, letting Sun grab your phone and hold it out in front of him, still studying the picture.

-Why does it want to put me in its basement?- Sun's voice sounded concerned, almost scared, -What did I do to be put in a basement?!-

-It's just a funny meme, Sun!- you were quick to reassure him, -It's supposed to make you laugh!-

-I don't like cats,- said Sun, looking back at you, -They rumble and make weird vibrating sounds when I pet them. I don't like basements either, they're too small for me to stand in and too dark for my taste.-

-Alright, alright, understood,- you sighed, -I just wanted to make you smile a little, but nevermind.-

You had hoped to show your animatronic coworker something new, something funny that would have surprised him and made him laugh, but worrying him wasn't part of the deal. Just as you reached to get your phone back, Sun began to scroll.

-Do you have more of these memes?- he asked, and your eyes widened.

-W-Wait, Sun, wait!-

It was too late, Sun had begun to scroll through your photos, looking through each of your pics with interest. You stood up and attempted to snatch the device away, but Sun spun his torso around to get out of your reach.

-Sun, give it back!- you screamed, grabbing his shoulders and trying to climb on his back.

-Is that me?!- Sun was saying, incredulous, -Did you take photos of me and Moonie while working?!-

Your face was burning, you were beyond embarrassed, but the attendant still refused to give your phone back to you.

-It's not what it looks like!- you whined, but at each photo Sun's eyes got bigger. A zoom-in of his face as he laughed, a close up of one of his drawing, a selfie you had taken during naptime with an unsuspecting Moon, a full body picture of Sun as he was carrying a child with a scraped knee around the daycare; warm and gentle as he always tried to be around those small and soft humans. Looking back at you, Sun found you with an adorable blush dusting your cheeks and neck.

He wondered how far down that beautiful red tint went. Cute.

-Dear?- Sun called you, crossing his arms over his chest while still keeping your phone in his hand, -Why do you have so many photos of me and Moonie in your phone?-

You didn't know what to say. How could you excuse your behavior? Technically, you weren't even allowed to use your phone during working hours. You chose to tell the truth.

-A while back, a friend of mine didn't believe me when I said that you and Moon are... terribly cute,- you spoke the last two words in a whisper, -A-And hot, v-very hot... So I started showing her pictures, you know? B-But, the more photos I took, the more... intimate it felt.-

Realizing that what you said could have been taken the wrong way, you were quick to correct yourself.

-N-Not intimate as in...! I m-mean, intimate as in private! I didn't want to share things with her anymore, but... I kept taking pictures.- Swallowing, you stared at the ground. -Sorry, I... Fuck, I don't know what came over me.-

Sun didn't say anything. For a moment, the entire daycare turned completely silent, and you waited for the robot to say something, anything at all. You were ashamed beyond comprehension.

Suddenly, you heard a loud whirring cutting the silence, along with the hiss of steam being blown out of vents. Looking up, you found Sun with his eyes closed, his face contorted into an almost pained grimaced, retracted rays, and steaming joints. His internal fans were working overtime to keep him cool, but the animatronic was visibly overheating.

-...Sun?- you attempted to say, hoping the jester wasn't too mad at you, -Are you okay?-

-No,- he hissed in response, low and angry, -I'm not okay, starbeam, at all.-

You didn't know what to do. Feeling guilty, you started to consider leaving the daycare early, to give him more space, but by the looks of it, Sun wasn't planning to let go of your phone anytime soon.

-Don't you dare to leave,- Sun suddenly grabbed you by a wrist, and you were surprised by how easily he had read your intentions. With a gentle tug, he pushed you between his arms, against his chest. -Not after all you have done to me.-

Standing so close, you could feel the heat radiating from his chassis, which warmed you up to your very core. His white eyes stared down at you—through you—making you feel uncovered, naked, observed. A smile opened on his face, and Sun giggled, happy to see you so confused and surprised.

-Do you think you could stay a bit after hours today?- he asked you, -After all, potty-mouths need to be taught a lesson, bad adults need to be punished!-

The last sentence was said in a deeper and equally familiar voice; not quite Sun anymore, but similar to the rough vocals of another animatronic. It was the end of the hour, the lights in the daycare were beginning to dim, and the blue and black hues of the daycare attendant were starting to stand out. Moon was coming out, and it looked like he was on the same note as Sun, regarding your punishment.

He giggled while you stared up at him, cast in the red light of his eyes. Beautiful, pretty, pretty, pretty.

-...Moon?- you asked, -What... What are you planning?-

-Oh, don't you worry, my star!- Moon said, holding both of your hands and beginning to spin around, dragging you in a weird dance in the middle of the darkened daycare, -You like us, right?-

Unable to lie while looking him straight in the eyes, you slowly nodded, swallowing down the knot in your throat.

-Like-like us, right?- he asked once more, and again you nodded. -Perrrrfect then.-

His purr reverbrated through your chest, down to your stomach, making your knees weak and your legs unsteady.

-I have the perfect punishment for you then, my dearest,- he said, lowering his faceplate so he could be at the same level of your ears. The moment the hot air of his hands hit your flushed skin, you flinched. -How about you tell me everything you have told your friend about us, mh? All your dreams, all the times you wanted to hold us, to touch us, to kiss us.-

You would have sworn Moon was doing that on purpose, embarrassing you minute after minute, making you feel hotter second after second. Closing your eyes, you cursed out loud, unable to keep your calm anymore.

-Such a naughty star,- Moon giggled, pulling away, finally letting you breathe, -A naughty star with a naughty tongue.-

[crabsnpersimmons]

I wanna give them all a lil kiss :3

ooou! kisses for the boys!

Moon: no no no! please wait! i need to clean up clean up!! and then! then...! w-w-w-we should get to know each other first! this! this is too sudden!!

Sun: I do not understand.

Eclipse: Guess you'll have to settle for just little old me for now!

[dorkszn]

mike schmidt is the type of bf who can’t speak spanish to save his life… when he’s sober. this is the reason he didn’t meet your family for 9 months, which obviously rose suspicion.

mike schmidt is the type of bf to get really flustered while practicing spanish with you. sometimes it’s you giving him a random sentence to say then bursting out laughing afterwards. or when you can’t help but giggle when he butchers a word. or when you read something in spanish for him and he doesn’t find anything more attractive than that.

mike schmidt is type of bf who stutters and fumbles over his words when he has to speak spanish to your native family. and then gets worse when your aunties and cousins begin smothering him like a baby saying his first words when he finally mumbles “s—soy un guardia de seguridad.”

mike schmidt is the type of bf who only needs a few beers to start blabbering like someone’s drunk tìo. he doesn’t really like drinking but he don’t mind doing it to impress your family real quick. and you later.

inspired by this edit.