All of my content contains sexual themes and/or acts
Hello everyone! This is just a silly Springtrap smut sideblog lol. Mostly x reader. I have some posts lined up but Im not even too sure how busy this will be, I just wanted somewhere to put what I did write!
I'm not sure how often I will get to asks but please send them anyway !
I use she/her pronouns and am 18
I've made all of the headers myself, so I hope they aren't too much of an eyesore. I never really was an aesthetics kind of gal
Meta Tags: Dead by Daylight Match, 2.4k words, Team: You, Sable, Steve, and Yui, No Use of Y/N for Reader-Insert, No Beta we die like Sable, Light-Hearted, Comedy, Minor Character Death, No Genitals Specified for Reader-Insert, Springtrap has no dick, Ace speaks English even though he might not canonically sorry guys, Cross-posted on Ao3
Content Tags: DUBCON Reader -> Springtrap, Oral Sex, Excessive Cum, Reader is kind of a dick, Sable Slander, Steve Slander, Gross
The door slides open right behind you, the strong metal hand tightening over your windpipe and yanking you away from the wires of the generator you were working on. Dammit. This trial was not going your way, in any stretch of the imagination. No gens had popped, and yet you were the only one who hadn't been on hook yet. And you were certainly trying to keep it that way.
You do your best to struggle with the lightheadedness that's coming on. Little grunts fall from you as you pry at his fingers. But he marches on. You can't see where he's taking you, just that the generator is getting further and further away. And then you hear a metal clink behind you.
Springtrap groans, throwing you down next to the now-useless hook. He throws a jab at Sable, but she scrambles away before he can get her. He groans and turns back, staring at you a long moment. You both know if he picks you now, you'll wiggle free. You both know he can slug you very effectively if he wants.
Everyone else on death hook, Sable injured..? This can snowball fast. Too fast. The thought spurs you into panic. Your brain fires off as you try to find a way to get out of this. Get at least some of you out of this. And perhaps, for that though, for the hope or distress that flutters in your heart, the entity blesses you.
“Wait!” Your voice cracks from not having used it for… years? decades? centuries? No one knows now. But The Rabbit stops and cocks his head. “I can.. I can do something… for you,” You offer shakily. He laughs, a loud, boisterous cackle that rings your ears.
“And what, pray tell, can a broken whelp like you give me?” He asks, his tone belittling. But, it's accurate. What can you give this… thing? You chew on your lip for a moment. You can only think of one thing, and you aren't sure it will work. Oh well, that's future you's problem.
Like a minute into the future you's problem, but that’s still a minute! A minute anyone could used to pop a gen so you at least can say you died at four gens.
“Let me up, please?” You ask.
“No.”
“I won't run,” You argue. “I really can make it worth it.”
He hums, and then shakes his head: “No,” He speaks firmly once more.
“Hooow about… you pick me up, I don't run, I make it worthwhile… anddd I sell out Steve?” You try once more. He grumbles. Steve had blinded him earlier…
The Rabbit reaches down and scoops you up by the neck again. You - as expected - break free, stunning him. The entity is so specific about her rules. He stomps his foot with a sharp yell. Another song and dance for the entity. All the same, he finds that you've made good on the first part of your promise.
You, like an idiot, have decided to get as close to the creature as possible. You're going to make it up to him, like you promised. By your team some time. You swallow thickly, and lower onto your knees. He's… so big. Taller than a person should be. Which, like, yeah. He's not just some dude, but still. And the smell. Ugh… Rotting meat and hot oil and… okay, no. You decide to stop thinking about it because you know it'd make you go back on your promise.
You're making it up to him, the only way you know how. You lean forward. You take a deep, careful breath - through your mouth - bracing yourself for what's to come. He looks down at you, confused. And you're honestly confused, too. You have no clue if what you plan to do will even work. Still, you lower closer to his crotch plate.
Will he stop looking at you like that?
The dead, curious, JUDGY stare those white eyes burn into you is making you even more nervous than you have to be. There's no way he doesn't know what you mean to do. Okay, it is a bit absurd and you're starting to regret it. But, come on! All men ever want is one thing.
And that one thing is head.
At least, all your pre-realm boyfriends did.
Your lips meet a tear in the crotch-plate. It makes a sickening squishing sound, liquid seeping onto your cheeks and lips - thick and tacky, not yet fully dried down. It tastes disgusting. Metallic and rotten. You can feel yourself developing… whatever you get from getting rot on your skin. Still, you push forward. You just need to hear that beautiful sound of a gen finishing in the distance. The thought pushes you into finally committing.
You stick your tongue through the hole in the plate. More of that awful taste assaults your senses, this time along with the rough texture of leather and firmness of frozen meat. The skin isn't warm… but it's not cold either. Rotted past the coldness of death, and into being merely room temperature. He doesn't react at first - well, he does, but it's confusion and not pleasure - and you start to panic.
Oh, you're all dying. Fuck. Awkward trip back to the camp fire for you.
But by the grace of… something - God? The entity? What ever process made him what he is? - and a little wiggling of your tongue, you find a spot that sends his head flying back. He lets out a soft groan.
You've done it! You're making good on your word!
You press forward, eagerly licking against the vile body now. You can hear your tongue clicking as you lap against the sensitive spot like a dog. There's nothing about it that makes it obviously special. No unique texture or taste. Everything down there feels the same. You only know where the “good spot” is when he groans out in pleasure. His eyes stay fixated on you as you tongue-fuck the crotch-plate.
“You are a—” He lets out a glitching stutter. “–Odd little pup,” but as he finishes the sentence, you prod another, more special spot. He lets out a loud moan, hips jolting forward. Sharp metal bites into your skin, something poking you just under the eye, but you don't care. You're making up for a hook state here. You're milking all the gen progress out of this as you can. You start attacking that spot.
Each time you poke it, he humps forward. Shallow, little presses against your mouth. Oddly…. well, not gentle, but lacking in the usual aggression he has with all of his movements. He's usually hyper-violent, every touch or step done with near performative ferociousness. You'd thought he'd fuck the same. But, perhaps it's that his dick appears to be gone. You think he had one at some point, but there's nothing signaling one now.
Your thoughts about how non-violently he's been treating you are silenced by his heavy, metal hand clamping around your skull. It's so large, it wraps around an unreasonable amount of your head - you know who you're drafting for realm basketball - and the metal of his fingers bite into the skin under them. You squirm a bit under his touch, stilling in your movement. Is he going to rip you off him?
Oh… well… yeah, okay, you didn't tell him the plan. It's fair to rip you off, you guess. Though your tongue sits in a very delicate position, still buried inside the suit with him. If he pulls you back, you might lose it. You hear all of his metal support structures click as he tilts his head back down to you. His glowing eyes glower down at you.
“Oh, now we're shy?” He asks, pressing his hand into the back of your head, and thus your face into his crotch. “Keep licking, whelp,” He grumbles. You move your tongue. He grunts and humps your face again.
You, doing your best against all the metal, lick him in a long, exaggerated stroke. This time it's more of a whine. An oddly delicious, pathetic whine from the man - rabbit? bunny? - that you've come to know.
You never had understood why he was a rabbit. You had exchanged bits and pieces about many killers with the others in the realm, and all you had gathered about him was he was the mascot of some kids diner and used to kill kids. Feng had told you it - this, being the rabbit - was somewhat intentional, but you don't… trust Feng. She gets kinda boasty sometimes. Inflammatory… likes to insult killers she beats. Doesn't always make her words true.
“There!” He demands when you poke a new spot, still humping you in those shallow desperate movements. “Yes, there!” Looking at him now, head tilted back, ears twitching… hips moving fast and short… you get it. You get why this man would want to be a giant rabbit.
He's got a rabbit personality.
He even stomps when mad! He's demanding, and bratty, and bolts when things aren't going his way, and really cute. You swear his nose should be twitching right now. And those ears are so.. touchable (Bunnies like when you touch them, you know)! They bounce and twitch.
And jerk as he humps you. His groans have increased in frequency. He's always been mouthy, but being the cause of it emphasizes how little he shuts up. The jaw of the animatronic falls open and limp, hanging off him in a way that looks dangerously close to falling off. You can see his internal jaw - which is so coming with the metal one if it does fall - but you cast your eyes away. You don't really want to see what you're currently licking. The thought triggers your reflexes, and you swallow down some of that disgusting, rotting meat taste. Oh, great. This campfire trip is getting more and more awkward.
The hottest groan-whimper you've ever heard falls out of his mouth. It isn't quite “high-pitched”, still in that filthy low baritone with the gruff quality. But it’s this sound of pure, unadulterated release. He doesn't care about anything. Not all the pressure he's lost, not going back to see anyone after this, not that you're standing completely out in the open to the left of main and who knows if Sable's left at all. No. Not a bit.
Well, he does care about one thing. Your tongue. The way it moves against his corroded skin, how that feels. What it's building to. You can tell in the way it absorbs him, in each grunt and little thrust. You've made him need you. You've made him weak and vulnerable, something he's made you more than once. You finally wield the power. God, it's addictive. Why did no other experience feel like this? What makes this… with this monster… so special?
Is it because it's a monster?
“Take it..” He growls under his breath, the words hard to make out due to being so broken up between moans, gasps, and grunts. “Tak..e it! Hah…” Despite the words being demanding, he says them with a tone of desperation. The want to be taken seriously. You taste the weakness on your tongue, and it's the greatest meal you've ever had. “Keep licking—” Another loud moan. —“Whe-lp,” He somehow managed to roll something in that word, his muscles flexing from toe to tongue under your attention. “I! I'm gonna…”
The cascade of milky white liquid seeping through the holes in the suit and into your mouth comes to the heavenly soundtrack of a gen popping. He clatters and twitches, but the sharp sounds of metal can't hide what you wanted to hear.
It feels heroic. A slow motion shot in an action film, just as the villain is defeated. And defeated he is.
His eyes have dulled behind his mask. He slumps back against the wall, letting it hold his weight. He looks empty like this, save for the white liquid pouring from each crack in his crotch-plate. His hand still grips at the back of your head, preventing you from pulling away fully.
Still, you slip your tongue out of his crotch-plate with a wet pop. Cum splatters onto the floor, some catching the fabric of your pants. It tastes surprisingly normal, despite it's off color. Looking at it, it seems to be too cool.. Not quite paper white, but something purpler than that…
As you analyze the substance, his hand moves from the back of your head. It sticks to your hair for a long, gross moment, no doubt pulling some hair out with him. He clears his throat.
“Now..” He starts. “Where is that little brat?”
So, bad news… your team seems to have only popped one gen while you were busy. How they possibly managed to fail that spectacularly, you do not know.
So, you run all around until you find Steve - maybe do some body blocking where possible - and finally fulfill your whole bargain. And then do three gens on your own. Yui manages to pop one somewhere in there, but you were too focused on the one in main at the time.
You hear Sable scream as she goes down, but your hands stubbornly grip the lever to open the gate. You aren't helping her. She did like, one thing all game, and it resulted in you tonguing all over rotten meat and then getting cum in your mouth. You didn't even get any reciprocat…. God damn it! Ugh… you should've pulled some card to get head back. Now that'd buy some time.
Yui comes behind you as you open the gate, seeming to agree. At least, that's how you're interpreting her strange facial expression. The language barrier means she can’t prove you wrong.
You exit the gate with Yui, Sable's scream echoing through you as you run back to the camp fire.
“Oh, hey, guys!” Ace grins as he stands. “Two-out? Nice,” He throws his arm over both you and Yui's shoulders. He rambles on for a beat before turning to look at you with the same expression Yui had.
“What?” You ask with a grumble. His face turns into more of a concerned frown. He takes his arm off of Yui - who walks rather pointedly away the second she's free - and gestures to his face with a finger.
Meta Tags: Second Person POV, 1.9k words, not beta read, no use of Y/N, Reader has a vagina and wears a skirt, takes place during FNaF 3, Cross-Posted on Ao3
Content Tags: Dry Humping, PnV, creampie, execsive cum, use of dog-related nicknames, reader calls Springtrap "Mr. Afton"
You lay on the dingy floor of the haunt, folded in half as far as you'll go. The hulking monster you've come to know ruts into you, pressing your clothed clit into the metal plate covering its crotch roughly. You moan and writhe as it humps you, hearing the dull squish of your wetness ruining the fabric soaking it in.
“What have I told you?” He growls. “You..” He groans softly. “You listen to me.”
“Mr. Afton!” You moan out, hands grasping for purchase on his shoulders. His claws bite into your hips, forcing you against him with even more pressure. When he'd warned you not to disobey him, that there would be consequences, you hadn't exactly imagined the burn of an orgasm building in your stomach as he groaned and huffed atop you. Today was an awful day to wear a skirt to work.
Everyday is an awful day to disobey Mr. Afton.
You quiver. The rough texture of his crotch-plate has no reason to be so good. To catch your clit just the right way, to draw more and more wetness out of you.
Your core flutters, reacting to the constant touch he's been lavishing on your clit. It's been minutes. Several long, painful moments of absolute pleasure as he tries to prove dominance over you.
A wet slap rings in your ears as the pressure in your stomach builds. It tightens, further and further and further - your muscles are tensing. Down your legs and up your arms. Your hips creak with complaint as he humps you.
“Mr-!” You can't force the rest of your squeal out past the moan and the wave of pleasure. You're cumming, pleasure burning through your veins. You hear him groaning, panting, in your ears.
Your pleasure starts to ease, your breathing slowing as you come back down. He pulls back, and for a moment you think your punishment is over.
Not much of a punishment, you think, ignoring the sound of metal sliding amd grinding in the background. You mean, an orgasm from Mr. Afton and then what? The cold shoulder! Hah–
Metal claws grab your hips again, “You look rather cocky for a whelp nowhere through with its punishment,” He scolds. You jolt, and look up at him.
He's so big hunched over you. What you're shocked by the most, however, is what's nestled against the fabric of your skirt. A cock. His cock - though a little rough and squished looking - intact. Weeping sticky, milky white into the dark textile.
You didn't know he could do that. You had thought it would have rotted away after so long. That, or that it would be trapped forever in the seemingly unmoving crotch of the animatronic. And yet, there is was. Rested heavy against you.
“Mr. Afton!”
He sushes you, “This can't be what scares you, hm?” He chides. “Most of me works, anyway,” He tilts his head in that cocky way he does, in the absence of a smirk, and slips his hands down. They move from your waist to your thighs, under your skirt, and then around the waistband of the delicate fabric that lays there. He pulls them away, the fabric brushing your legs.
Cold air assults your senses, your clit buzzing at the feeling. You can't help squirming, your wetness making the air feel nearly like menthol against your still-sensitive skin.
“Ah, pretty, isn’t it,” He purrs above you, digging a sharp finger into the flesh of your labia, spreading it open. The pain stings, pulling you away from the unbearable cold of the air. “Pretty little cunny,” It’s more of a coo this time. He watches it pulse and squeeze around nothing.
This drags out for far too long. Your pussy is weeping for attention, the wetness that's been smudged onto your thighs and ass rapidly cooling. You're sticky, cold, and desperate for him to go on. He… will go on, right? He wouldn't tease you like this…
Right?
That's wishful thinking. Of COURSE he would. You catch him shift his weight on his knees and instantly respond with a whine and a squirm. He can't work you up like this and leave you hanging! You… you're desperate enough to beg a little.
He chuckles at you. This is a bad sign.
You open your mouth, ready to beg, but he cuts you off.
“N'awww, it wants a friend, doesn't it?” He continues to patronize you. Oh. Rude. This isn't the worst of his punishments, but still. It isn't kind at all. He calls your name, snapping you out of your wallowing. “It does want a friend, yes?”
You nod as soon as he says it. Yes, your pussy wants a friend! It's dying for one, even!
His cockhead kisses your clit and you jolt. Pleasure rolls through your body, reminding you that your pussy has already made friends. He thrusts between your folds, rubbing the length of his cock in your wetness.
Once - and you feel him clip against your clit in a way that leaves a ring through your nerves - twice, and he's leaking pre-cum all over you, thrice, and you have to imagine that he could push you a little further. That he could fold you in half with his metal frame, breaking any part of you that was resistant, and push his cock between both of your lips.
Shove that rotten thing into your mouth. Fuck your throat so hard you're crying, all the while pushing delicious friction against your pussy. You'd cum around nothing, but he'd catch all your release, and in the same moment push it right into your mouth. And you’d gag and squirm and he'd pull away, cumming directly onto your face. And down your chest, ruining your top and skirt until a fat glob landed right on your clit and slid down into your weeping hole.
He chuckles above you, “Enjoying yourself already?” He teases. The tone pushes the innocent smile and broken eyelids of the animatronic into a husky, erotic expression. Cocky in a way that makes stomachs flip and thighs clentch. You nod before you can think about it. “Well, then, let's get to the main attraction, shall we?”
He finally begins to press in. It's slow, but by no means nice. It's all in one long, forceful press. You feel yourself stretch, further and further inside. It's agonizing, the way he bullies himself inside. And once he can't press forward anymore, he draws back, giving you no time to adjust to the size.
His thrusts are already uneven, but it's hard to tell if it's because he's close, or because of the metal in his hips. You find yourself wishing for the latter as the slight sting melts into pleasure. He feels so good, bullying your insides. His cock - like eveything about him - presses inside, forces you to mold around him. Into a shape for his pleasure. He hits everything just right, forcing his cock against each soft spot that lives deep within you. The rough texture of the fabric presses against your clit, the unpleasantness melting away with the functions of your brain.
You moan and writhe under him, once more hearing your hips creak in complaint at him slamming against you. But you block those sounds out, imstead focusing on the ones he's making. Soft groans and grunts. They're strangled and hard to hear under the clanking of the suit, impact on skin, and wet schlips and schlops filling the room, and yet, you catch them through it all.
Your hands grip against his back. They tingle with rugburn as the force of his thrusts send you bouncing against the floor. And as he sends you cumming again, you realize that he's great at sex. William Afton is great at sex the same way he's great at everything people - manipulating them, entertaining them, pulling them apart… and making them cum their brains out.
You're pulled back to reality by him laughing at you, still nailing his weeping cock into the squishy spot at the top of your vaginal canal.
“Such a— loving… pup,” His voice is even more strained than usual, from exertion most likely. “Screaming my name,” He sighs. “You know how much I love that,” He sounds so proud of himself. You hadn't realized you made any kind of intelligible sound, but you feel too good to be embarrassed. He lets out a heavy pant. “I can't.. go as long,” He drops his thought with a loud groan.
Sticky… liquid fills you. It isn't hot, but it's not cold either. Just room temperature. You'd maybe be more concerned with that if there wasn't so much. More and more and more, in long ropes, pours into you as his metal frame quivers. The feeling is overwhelming. It leaves you squirming. You felt full already, but now you feel impossibly more so.
Once he's spent, his metal frame collapses over you. He rests his forhead against the ground, sparing you most of his weight. You can hear him panting and the rattling of quaking metal. Your hands rub at his back gently. He lets out a soft groan.
“That was a lot,” You comment, admittedly eagar to be able to stretch your legs out. He grunts an affirmation out.
Clanking, clickling, and whirring covers the sound of his breath as he sits back on his haunches. For a moment, you think that he'll start again, that your “punishment” is going to be more rounds than you can count. Or… something… but instead, he slips out. A fat gush of cum - a thick white that's a bit concerning to think about. There's a lot of that in you… - follows him. It pools onto the floor in extra-concerning globs. Huh, you shoulda thought this through more. Still, you stretch out your legs, slowing the flow slightly. Or more likely just forcing it into a thiner stream. And once more, you feel cocky.
Yeah, he's big, but you took it. Soreness has yet to set in. You took your punishment like a champ. Hell, it was basically reward!
With a content sigh you sit up, looking for your underwear. You didn't hear them rip, so you asume they're wearable.
Oh, they're right by your head!
You must not have noticed because his was between you and the item. As you reach for it, he lets out a boustrious cackle. His hand rushes past you, the blow echoing through the empty halls. You jump, startled, but paying enough attention to see that he's balled the fabric up in his hand.
“You thought I forgot about your punishment, whelp?” He taunts you. You watch him stand to his full height, dangling the pair off one finger. “You get to find a way home without these.”
“Mr. Afton!” You yell, but all you get in response in a snap of his fingers.
“Get up!” His tone is light. “It’s nearly midnight. You don't want,” He pauses, “The night gaurd to see you lying in my cum, now do you?” He asks.
As you scramble for a response, he begins to walk away. After a moment of astounded waiting, you finally accept he won't return from the darkness. You fight to your feet, made substantially more difficult by the soreness now setting in to the insides of your thighs.
Once on your feet, the sick sound of a fat glob of cum falling out of your hole and onto the floor rings out.
Thinking about it… maybe that was a good chunk? You might be able to spare some of the interior of your car?
But, looking down, you spot the slight distend in your belly. You doubt much will be spared between the spot you stand and your shower at home.
With a tired sigh, you begin to walk forward, doing your best to ignore the odd-tempatured trickle down your legs.
Meta Tags: Second Person POV, 4.6k words, not beta read, no use of Y/N, Reader has a vagina, BunnyCult!Reader, GlitchNeither, References to quotes from DBD and UCN, Named after a The White Stripes song, Cross-posted on AO3
Content tags: Reader is Still Bad at Consent, Sexual Fantasy, Wet Dream, Day Dreams, Vaginal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Kind of Gross
Perhaps you had not learned your lesson.
You'd spent the past week being as obedient as you could, doing everything he asked of you without hesitation. Cleaning flesh and metal, stitching fabric, reattaching wires… but behind his back, you were being a naughty thing.
He shut off, sometimes, as a result of the systems. Short, temporary bursts where he would stay, unmoving, before returning to operation. Typically just after 6 AM, but there was no guarantee. But you had been waiting up, pretending to sleep for the little whir he made when he shut down.
And when you'd hear it, you would slip out of the sheets and over to him. You'd been so haunted by that question. Was he still intact down there?
You just had to know.
It was a long, slow process. Trying not to wake him as you pried flesh from metal. You pop the panel apart from the right side with a flat screwdriver. Then, you slip your fingers inside as you try to find how to release the spring locks inside. His skin is cool, rough and dry. It sends a shiver down your spine, one you can't tell is a natural reaction to touching a dead body or if it's excitement. Arousal.
Arousal is distinctly what you feel when your fingers come into contact with the skin just where his penis should be, and you find the distinctly different texture. Rougher, the thinner skin having had less protection from rot.
The thinner skin of a penis. The one that is distinctly still intact - still connected to him. It’s hard to feel much of it, your hand squeezed between the metal and his flesh. But it’s there, the answer you were wanting. You swallow thickly, all of your prior thoughts of worship coming back to you.
“Mr. Afton,” You whisper, calling out to your god. You lean forward, laying your ear against the crotch plate as you run your fingertips against what you can reach. You feel like a dog having a treat held over its head. It’s so close, and your mouth waters at the thought of having it.
He’d been so kind to you those few days ago, when he had been so kind to sully his own mouth with you. To let you - a measly mortal, a mere dog - cum upon his form not once, but twice. And he hadn’t asked anything in return. He had done it all as if you deserved something like that.
Yet despite his generosity, you were still a greedy cur - a filthy, horny monster that dared to greed and yearn. You had spent the whole weak imagining what sexual depravity you could conjure as you worked, further muddying his image in your mind. He was no partner, no husband, no fuck buddy. Not to you. No, he was something that had ascended from humanity's constraints.
You deserved to be punished for desecrating him, not just in your mind but in reality, too.
Still, the hand in his crotch plater ghosts over his skin, fingertips brushing against his cock in the largest movement possible. It wasn’t much, nothing that could be considered stimulating, but it was enough for you.
Your other hand presses into your pants and underwear, coming into contact with your own skin. A ragged breath falls from you as you begin to touch yourself.
“Mr. Afton,” You whisper, pressing your fingers against your clit. You're already so wet, you can hear the slick movements in the quiet room. Just another sign of how willing you are for your glorious lord. Your hips move, aching for the rough texture of his thighs once more as you squirm against your own hand. “Mr…” You breath out softly, biting your lip. Your legs begin to tense again, pleasure coiling in your stomach.
You can't help but think what would happen if he caught you like this. Doing your best to feel him as you touch yourself, all while he is shut down. Naughty, naughty thing.
“Naughty,” His hand snatches up your wrist. He pulls your hand from his crotch plate, the gentle skin underneath being nothing but a memory now. With that leverage, he yanks you up and away from the floor. You loose the delicious feeling of your fingers against you as he removes the pressure from your weight. “Touching yourself. Touching me? With no permission? Filthy cur. Disgusting thing. You should be punished.”
“Please, Mr. Afton,” You beg, eyes wide as fear consumes you. You know what he's capable of.
“Too late,” He growls, dragging you by the wrist to the bed. He sits down as you stand in front of him. “Naughty things get no mercy,” He decrees as he reaches out, yanking down your pants and panties at the same time.
A soft moan falls from your lips.
He bends you over his knees harshly, knocking the air from you. His hand forces your thighs apart, the frigid air meeting your blazing cunt. You feel yourself weep sweet slick, globs dripping down past your clit.
“You want my cock?”
“Yes,” You whisper. “Please!”
A sharp smack falls against your ass cheek, pain searing through you as the mottled fabric and exposed metal hit your skin.
“Greedy, gluttonous, lustful thing,” He scolds with another slap. “You think wanting means you can have?”
“No, sir, I-”
“You think wanting means you deserve?” Another slap.
“No,” You pant. “No, sir! I'm sorry, Mr. Afton!”
“Look at you,” He chides, watching as you squirm in his lap. “Greedy little thing,” His hand slides over to your waiting pussy. “This is where you want me?”
You gasp and moan, nodding uselessly under the touch. “Yes… yes, Mr. Afton, please.”
A wet slap rings through the room. It was much more gentle here compared to the fat of your cheek, but it still sent a shock through you.
“This is the source of all of your problems,” He scoffs. “You think with your pussy like a bitch in heat,” He slaps it again, fabric catching your clit. “The second you see me, you let it control you,” Springtrap taunts, pressing harsh circles into your clit. “Don't you?”
“Yes,” You gasp, squirming against the touch.
The thick plastic of his finger traces your entrance, threatening to push in. Just one alone would cause a considerable stretch. He intentionally catches against you a few times watching as you squirm against him. You keen when it begins to slide in, forcing your walls apart in a way you haven't managed before.
“Hubristic little thing,” He scolds. “Thinking you can take my cock, and yet acting like this on one finger,” He mocks as he starts to bully your insides. You hear the wet plaps accompanying the stings of his wrist against your tailbone while he thrusts into you. The tip of his finger presses heavily into that ribbed spot in your walls. You're so close as he forces you apart, a second finger squeezing in. You see stars when they both butt against your g-spot. One more touch. All you need is one more, little touch against that special place and you'll—
POP
You snap out of your fantasy, your fingers slipping out of yourself as you whip your head to the side. His crotch plate seems a bit out of place, and you feel a dull ache in the hand wedged under it.
“Shit…” As carefully as you can manage, you pull your hand back. You try to set his crotch plate right without smudging the wetness on your fingers into the already matted fur. The awkward sound of the support rod slipping around its holster fills the room. A light, almost plastic grinding.
Too high… now too low… ah, to the right..!
You glance up at Springtrap, the animatronic still motionless. How long has it been? His shut off isn't usually long, typically not even an hour. You'd spaced out way too hard.
Another slip.
“Fuck,” You hiss, adjusting where the heel of your “used” hand lies, fingers still curled tight and out of the way as the hand that was under the crotch plate tries to push it back into place. “Damn..” The ears twitch above you. The plate still slides all around, the connectors not meeting. His fingers flutter, stretching apart next to you in a movement that distracts you longer than you have time for. He usually doesn't even stay down an hour. Pain sears through your lip, as you chew the inside in an attempt to calm yourself. “C'mon…” It’s a barely managed mutter, through your closed mouth.
He's waking back up. You can tell, from all those times you watched him power back on. The ears, the fingers, then his eyes open and his head is free to move. You just need to… just need to get this before… a little to the right… and…
Finally, the two halves click back together. You spring back up, the whirring of the animatronic ringing in your ears louder than your own heartbeat. Suddenly inflicted with not wanting him to know you're awake at all - even though you've never been that cagey with him, you want to always be available for Mr. Afton, after all - you dive into your bed.
You face away from him, curled up so he can't see the guilt on your face. He can read you so well with those glowing eyes of his..
His beautiful, godly glowing eyes. The ones that bask you in cold light, and then read your very soul. But of course they can, they're the eyes of your god, after all.
The mere thought of that feeling, of what it's like to be known, sends heat back into your core. But you hear the soft whir, click! of his head. He's up, and you've rubbed your filthy lust on him enough already.
You press your fingers into your mouth to stop them from slipping between your legs, the faint taste of yourself still lingering. The other probably still tastes like him. You squirm at the thought.
But heavy footsteps and soft breathing tell you he's above you, so you still and hope he doesn't notice you aren't really asleep.
He lets out a grumble about “propriety” before pulling your fingers from your mouth. He pats your wrist firmly into the bed. Then, you hear him turn with another grumble. This sounds more like a “good god” before he stumbles slightly as he slips from the room.
You tilt your head to watch your door swing shut before getting comfortable. You don't want to obstruct your god's early morning endeavors, after all. He's a busy man who needs some alone time, too. So, for now you'll sleep, like a good follower, and not intrude.
Even if your dreams are filled with debaucherous images of him. You can feel it, the blessing you were given by the beta making your dreams impossibly vivid.
You want him so bad, you greedy thing. You dream of him in every way your mind can conceive of. Memories of his tongue on your pussy, and fantasies of that rotten cock bullying you open. Pressing in in one harsh stab, filling you fuller than you ever have been, bumping roughly against all the good spots inside. Wet plaps ring out in your ears as his fat tip beats against your cervix. He contorts you this way and that, from missionary to reverse cowgirl to a full nelson. He lifts you with ease, like you weigh nothing against his metal frame.
And oh, how you want to do this in real life. To be a vessel for his pleasure, and for the fluid release that will come with it. You ache for him to flood you, those ears you love twitching as he cums, finally reaching his peak after 30 years.
But what you think of most, what you want most, is to return the favor to him. To lower yourself into your rightful place, and take him into your mouth. To watch his head fall back as you please him, the Rabbit's maw drops to reveal the knit in his brow. You'd be so attentive, so perfect for him. He'd been that good for you, so any good follower must be twice as attentive and twice as skilled as a proper thank you. To have his cock heavy against your tongue, precum beading out against your taste buds, would be the highest honor. Though, perhaps not as high as when he bent himself down, sullied himself, for your pleasure. But that’s what inspires you to take him in, what has it haunt you even in your sleep.
It’s almost more vivid than the dreamt up images of him splitting you open, despite the overwhelming feelings of them causing you to writhe and leak in your sleep. But this, the view of kneeling in front of you - just as you had moments before - is the most real.
And so you pry his crotch plate back open, the rotten flesh being exposed to you. But you don’t mind, not considering who it is. His pretty, rotten cock hangs in front of you. You follow it with your eyes from tip to base, and then up, up, up all the way to those eyes. The light from them casts over everything, sending a shiver down your back. Still, you hold his gaze as you lick at his tip. It’s slow, teasing. Just giving yourself your first taste of his skin and pre-cum. Salty, metallic, something lacking life-born heat or trademarks of texture, despite his remnant-sustained heart. Still, you lean forward, running your tongue along the underside, finding a still-pulsing vein there. He lets out a groan, hand rushing to the back of your head with his surprising speed. He humps against you, the textured underside of his erection sliding over your face until your mouth meets his balls. You lick at the seam, before pulling one between your lips. He lets out another sound, grinding against you as you lavish him with attention, his weeping tip bumping between your eyebrows. Eventually, he pulls back to press his cock head past your lips - which you take as the boon it is. Wet shlicks fill the room as he fucks your face. He throbs against your jaw, head falling back as he gets close. You suck harder, desperate to swallow down his load.
“Bollocks!”
Cum pours down your throat, cold and tangy as you moan around him. It floods your mouth until you choke and gag, but you do your best to stay limp as he rides out his orgasm with a few more thrusts. He says your name as he does.
And then you hear it again.
And again.
You snap upright in your bed, feeling the wetness between your legs has long turned cold. It'd mid-day now, sun warm against your skin.
“Goddamn it!” You hear Springtrap swear from the other room, with another shout of your name. “Get over here!”
You spring out of bed, ignoring the jolt of pleasure at your thighs pressing together and the wet sounds coming from the fabric against skin. You run around, checking your bathroom and hall, before you make it to your living room.
There, you find Springtrap on the floor. He's in the middle of nowhere, with nothing to hoist himself up.
“Mr. Afton!” You scramble, rushing to kneel at his side. He fell backwards, planted square on his ass with his legs spread, the lower halves of them twisted away from each other. Like someone who leaned too far back while ice skating. “Oh, no.. are you okay?” You ask, unable to help the conceding tone that comes from your worry. Your hands pat over his chest and shoulders, before he bats one away.
“No, I'm not!” He snaps. “I fell bloody hard! And I can't stand back up!” He never did take failure well. “And what took you so long?” He glare at you. Your heart drops, hot shame running from your chest to your stomach.
“I-I was asleep,” You stammer, but you can't get anymore out before his weight presses onto your shoulder and he hoists himself up. You bite back a grunt from the strain, certainly not build to sustain such a heavy thing pushing onto your bones.
“Good puppies come when called,” He grumbles, taking a shuffling step. And then you see it, the way his hip twists funny, the plate clearly getting in his way. You put it back wrong.
“Ah, it's..”
“I know what it is,” He growls, eyes piercing you. You swallow thickly. He knows what you've done, and that it was you. Not that you could ever hide anything from him. “Get up,” he demands, and you obey.
You follow him to the bedroom, holding onto his arm to help him walk with the worsened gait. Though you can't help yourself from looking up at him, admiring the way the suit complements his facial structure. He had made it so perfectly, and you were helping him recover. The little tail on the back was your addition, and you were very proud of that.
“I've told you not to touch the spring locks, have I not?” He grumbles lowly. “And yet, what do you do?”
“I'm sorry, Mr. Afton, I just…” You pause, meeting the vicious glare in his eyes. You feel your heart tighten with anxiety. You don't want him to be mad at you - he can't be mad at you. You're a good disciple! Sure, sometimes you jump the gun, but he's just so perfect and amazing to you! All you want is to show appreciation!
“You just what?” He glowers.
You head falls, and you can feel your heart beat against your chest, “Wanted to make you feel good, Mr. Afton.” He scoffs. You snap upright. “I only messed with it when you wouldn't feel any pain! I didn't want to put it on wrong..”
“All this for a taste?” He cocks his head, heavy hand coming to lay against your cheek. He presses his thumb into your mouth. You can taste the rotten meat and rusted metal and it… it's delicious. Perhaps that's the twists in your mind talking, the thing that inspired you to take him in in the first place. The thing that causes you to only feel overwhelming love for him, despite what he's done and the objective horror of his form. Your heart rate eases, as your eyes flutter shut. You can't help yourself as you suck on his thumb, drawing out more of the taste. He hums, that cold light bathing over your face. “Well… I suppose it was worth it, then?” He teases, but the cockiness in his tone tells you he's enjoying this. A band aid for his ego after his fall. You nod, moaning around his finger. “Uh, uh,” He pulls his hand back, chucking at your whine. “Tell me why you deserve it,” He leans forward.
You stammer, trying to press out words as he dangles that promise over your head, “I… I cleaned you up! I sewed on the tail-”
“You disobeyed direct orders,” He lists off, turning away from you. The metal creaks as he takes a few steps towards the bed.
“No, no-no-no-no!” You let yourself sound desperate, because you are. His displeasure is the worst thing you can experience. Nothing could top it. “Please, Mr. Afton!” You drop to your knees. “It was just so I could please you! Worship you and treat you as you should. As a god should.”
He pauses, and you watch his full ear twitch. His hand extends out, and he waves you over. “Come here, tyke.” You scramble over, of course, squeezing yourself between him and the bed. His hand gentle cups your cheek, oh so gently, and you bask in the glow of his eyes. “I must sympathize with you wanting to make me feel good. It isn't your fault I made him so complicated,” He purrs, thumb rubbing over your lips teasingly. “I'll teach you how to do it right,” He grins under that mask, you can tell by the slight narrowing of the light. You try to pull his thumb into your mouth once more, but it leaves your face. He uses both hands to fiddle with the crotch plate, and you hear several clicks go off. He groans, leaning forward over you. “Ahh… give me your hand, little one,” His words are strained, but he doesn’t want you to acknowledge it. You have to keep your worry for a god quiet, you've seen how it hurts his ego.
So you offer your hand to him. He snatches it by the wrist, and presses your fingers to the center of his groin, ever closer to what you desire most.
“Gentle pressure. Slide it open,” He coos. He always softens when it comes to Springbonnie. You follow the instruction, sliding a square of metal to the right, his cock flopping out heavily after. “It had to be hidden, as to not be suggestive,” He explains. “But Henry insisted we keep the spring locks away from the family jewels.” The words barely register in your head as you lower your mouth towards his penis, before he stops you with a hand on your forehead. “Uh, uh, uh, puppy. You want to please your master, yes?” You nod rapidly. “Mm, well then, get on the bed. On your back.”
You obey seamlessly, feeling warmth bloom in your stomach. As you settle your head on the pillows, imagining him clamber over you, he grabs you by the neck. You splutter, his grip tight. Inconceivably tight. You can't breathe. You scramble, though trying to avoid hurting him as you do. You can't hurt him, even the thought of hitting anywhere near him is blasphemous. He drags you around as if you were a rag doll until your head hangs off the edge of the bed, and then he lets go.
“Stupid little thing,” He grumbles. “I thought you wanted to taste me,” His hand comes, almost hesitant as it wraps around the base of his cock. He points the tip at your lips, though it still seems a bit limp. “Or have you already changed your mind?” He taunts, bouncing it against your mouth lightly.
And you can't help but drool, “No, sir,” You respond, ready to taste him again. To be treated to the most delicious weight that will ever settle onto your taste buds.
“Good pup,” he purrs, pressing his cock head forward. You accept it into your mouth gratefully, eyes closing as that taste blooms in your mouth. Sour, but metallic. It's heavy, surprisingly not having lost weight despite the rot, likely from the remnant. It has an unnatural texture to it, rough and leathery, like a couch. It's cold like one, too. How accurate the details of your dreams were is unnerving, but you can't worry too hard.
Not when you have to please him, right now. You moan, sucking on the head of his penis. It's softer than it should be, the gentle pressure squishing it slightly, but you keep lavishing it with attention. You roll your tongue over it and poke at the slit.A heavy hand comes next to you, as muffled panting leaves the rabbit suit. He's feeling good. You're doing good.
When a little jump rattles in your mouth, you push out to take more of him inside. A louder shaking breath falls from him as he moves to meet you, pushing his dick further into your throat. He's getting hard, though much slower than a living man would, and you can certainly tell in the way it lays in your mouth.
“Ah.. good whelp,” He tries to hold his voice together. He shallowly humps your throat. “So good..” He groans, as you take his light fucking with ease. You can tell his movements are from trying to hold out rather than mercy. The thought of that, the idea he’s trying to hold off on release presses you to work harder. You want to pleasure him.
You want to take him, to have him all to yourself.
So, you press forward, letting yourself gag at the tip pressing against the back of your throat. He groans, metal creaking as he quivers in pleasure. You watch as his ears bounce. He's so cute from this angle, the suit's jaw limp and useless and eyes squeezed shut. You reach back, pulling him closer with one hand as you take all of him in. Your jaw aches from being forced open so wide, and he settles right into the back of your throat. The jerking and pulsing is getting more frequent, and he's fully hard now, as you lick around the base of his cock now that you have access to it. His thrusts are small, uncontrolled movements from all the pleasure you're giving him.
Your other hand pulls at his tail - careful not to tug it off - in time with your movements. His sounds are inhuman, gagging and choking as the metal that crushed his windpipe prevents full moaning. His hand moves blindly, desperately, to press against your throat. It constricts your breathing, but more than that it presses his cock against your skin. A little bulge forms, pressing back against his hand.
“Fff…’gah,” He doesn’t commit to the swear as he hunches over you. Your name slips from his lips, though, and pride burns in your chest. His thrusts become uneven, forcing himself harshly into your throat wall. You give a good suck, embracing the way the rotten taste melts into your tongue and down your throat. And he comes undone above you. It's loud - he roars, and the metal quakes - and you love it. You love the hand clamping down on your throat.
More than that, you love the cum that pours down your throat. It isn't hot, nor is it even warm. But it's thick, and salty, and his. Greedily, you try to suck more down, milking him for every last drop. A low groan falls from him, and he pushes you away roughly.
Once spared from your onslaught, he allows himself to pant. He's clearly worn from the experience, head mostly limp. You can hear his heavy breathing, even if you can't see his chest move. After a moment, he stumbles and plants himself next to you.
His thick, delicious cock lays fully in your sight now, rested against his thigh. The rotted flesh emphasizes his perfection, the fact he achieved his goal. You roll over, curling around him before nuzzling forward towards his now flaccid penis. You wrap your lips around the side, pulling his taste back into your mouth.
“No..” He breathes, hand pressing into your forehead. “No, no, too much,” He sighs, utterly exhausted already. You whine.
“But you gave me two..” You argue. He chuckles.
“You don't need to recover, tyke,” He coos, hand moving to your chin. He presses his forefinger and thumb into your cheeks, squishing them together. “You can just go, and go, and go. The joys of youth. I haven’t been able to do that in a long time.” He hums as if remembering something and you feel a deep pang at the idea you won’t be able to experience that. His eyes, that cold, blank silver, turn down to you. “Ahh,” You can hear the pride in his voice. “Jealousy is unbecoming of a disciple,” He stands, still tilted slightly to the side as his legs aren’t solid yet. “Though, perhaps I can do it again. Given more remnant, of course.”
When he turns back to you, the mask’s expression seems to be a devious grin.
Hello Warren! I thought I should post to welcome requests! I'd love to see what everyone would like to see, and to hear what everyone is thinking.
This is a Springtrap blog, specifically, but I will write for Fanmade (non-afton) versions of him. As well as Pittrap and Glitchtrap.
For Fics:
I can't promise any length, especially not traditional drabbles, so expect most one-shot requests to come out around 1-2k. You can also request bullet-point style headcanons or rambles for shorter bites!
Please specify what kind of genitalia the reader has in your ask!
Other:
Feel free to just drop in and talk about anything Springtrap-smut related! I'd really love to talk, or get recs for content!
Anon asks are enabled, but you won't get any notifications when they are answered, so keep that in mind!
I won't be following up with requests that contain incest, explicitly non-consensual acts, or ones implicating underage charaters, thank you for acknowledging this!
Meta Tags: Second Person POV, 2.7k words, not beta read, no use of Y/N, Reader has a vagina, BunnyCult!Reader, GlitchNeither, References to quotes from DBD and UCN, Named after a The White Stripes song, Cross-posted on AO3
Content tags: DUBCON Reader -> Springtrap, Grinding/Dry Humping/Thigh Riding, Worship, Implications of mind control, oral (f reciving), use of dog-related nicknames, wet, Springtrap has a scent kink, blood, minor injuries, overstim, Reader calls Springtrap "Mr. Afton" exclusively
He was perfect. Being so close to him, touching him so entirely feels…. holy.
Mr. Afton lays back on the bed, the frame of the yellow rabbit swallowing it. Your brain is a bit scrambled from the code of the game, but you had worked hard to find him, and then to fix him up. It was all you could think about, all day, everyday, since you solved the mystery of that Fazbear Entertainment Beta.
Revive Mr. Afton, Save Mr. Afton, Free Mr. Afton.
Now you hear his shallow breathing from inside the suit as you appraise him.
"You're perfect," The words fall from your lips, though your brain is mush. You're straddling the thigh if the animatronic, your legs spread to the point the apex of your thighs sting. You know better than to touch Mr. Afton in such a manner, so your hips are still, but it's hard not to give in. Your legs are too weak to support your weight at this point, knees wobbling when you try. You run a hand up to hold the base of his full ear, at the same time leaning down to skim your nose over the neck and cheek of the yellow rabbit below you. You push through the short fur you had gotten onto his cheeks, though he still smells of mildew and ash. White eyes follow your movement, but he doesn’t stop you. You aren't sure why, he could crush you with one hand if it wanted. You twitch at the thought, breath hitching as the rough texture relieves you briefly. But you stop yourself, even as you begin to shake.
"Far from it," Comes a scoff from inside the suit. It pauses you, dread filling your stomach at the tone. "My proudest creation…. reduced to ruins… and at the hands of my own son, no less," He speaks with venom in his tone, the eyes narrowing at you. They glow rather bright, considering all he's been through, and in the dark room they sting your own. "He has not been perfect for many years."
You don't react much to that, thoughts still fuzzy with the buzz of adrenaline, "I still think you're beautiful, Mr. Afton," You reply. He huffs, brushing the statement off. That irritates you, just slightly. How can he not see his perfection? Even in this state, he's breathtaking. You've been so thrilled to care for him, to have him so close. Your heart races, and every part of you can tell. Blood pumps in your ears, and your clit pulses in time as well. Your knees shake as you try not to desecrate the man you've devoted the past months of your life to. He makes small mechanical trills when you touch some places, and grunts of pain when you touch others, with his ears twitching no matter the sound. You know he can feel you. You outstretch your hand, cupping his plastic jaw.
He rips his head from you, his massive hand wrapping around your wrist crushingly tight as he growls out, "Do not press your luck, whelp."
And you can't hold it in anymore. Your thighs are soaked and sticky in your pants, underwear now nothing but a wet formality. Your hole begs to be attended, tightening around nothing in a way that you feel through all the surrounding muscles. It's all too much - you need release.
No, you need release from him. You need to worship him, to show him what you think.
Your knees collapse and you draw your clothed pussy along his thigh. A moan escapes you right away, and his ears twitch, the sensors picking up on the squishing sound of soaked fabric rubbing against itself. You rock backwards and big hands catch you. You pivot to small circles, desperate to chase your release. He grumbles at you.
"Humping my leg like a desperate cur," He comments, thumbs digging into the skin to either side of your navel. You moan in response. His thigh is hard, cold, and torn up. The metal bites at your pants, and you can hear as the fabric rips like it's been stuck with a cat's claws. Each catch forces uneven pressure up your clit and into your stomach. You're so wet now, soaked through your gusset and into your pants, and you can't stop.
"Mr. Afton," Falls from your lips in a long gasp. You lean forward, the angle shooting more hot pleasure through you. "Perfect," You insist, hips pushing harder. The squishing is so intense now, but you don't have the mind to be embarrassed. His eyes stare at you, burning holes through your face as he watches you desecrate his precious thigh. You need it so bad, you're nearly sobbing.
Who wouldn't want to cum by the grace of their god?
Your humping becomes heavier, as you chase your release. It's so close, calling your name.
And in a moment it's snatched away.
The hands on your hips force you back, dragging you down his thigh - his knee rested against your ass - and then back up. The force of it has you falling forward, hands flailing before hitting the bed around him with a low thump. Your moan is almost a sob, mouth falling open uselessly. He cackles in response.
"You want to cum?" He taunts. "To stain my fur with yet another fluid?" He huffs. His big hands push you right into a little bump in his thigh, nudging it right on your clit before sliding you back again. "You'll have to be more entertaining than that."
Your vision is blurry and you aren't sure what's happening with anything above your waist. Your cunt clutches around nothing once more, forcing you to imagine taking part of him inside. He's so big against you, and it's hard not to imagine there would be a thick stretch, no matter what pressed in. Which further pushes you to imagine being flooded with sticky heat. His ears would twitch, wouldn't they? Quivering as he lets go. After so long… you're sure it would be overwhelming.
You want to give him that. You want to watch as his eyes fall back and he spasms, letting go of everything he's built up over these long years.
And then, perhaps, he will offer you more. You'd like to claim to not be greedy. To say you were an un-gluttonous, saintly being. But you were a mere human, and you were sure he would understand if you were just a smudge selfish.
Absolutely filthy sounds pour from you as he grinds you into his thigh, and you might possibly be drooling, but it's so good the sensation around your mouth is only on your periphery.
"Speak, mutt," He orders firmly, though he's melting your brain out your ears with how his metal grinds on your cunt. You keen, pulling at the fabric under him. "Tell me what I do to you," He leans up, the jaws of the rabbit suit opening impossibly wide so he can drink you in, cold skin pressing against your cheek, not wanting to miss a moment of the praises and complements that fall out of your mouth and into his bottomless ego. He also gulps down the delicious smell -the taste - of your arousal.
"Mr. Afton-!" You barely manage to squeak that out. "Ah… haahh, schoo good. You- you feel so good!" It’s more of a babble than actual speech, but it earns you a low chuckle.
"Schoo good," He mocks, all the while abusing your clit with that little bump in his thigh. "I mean, my wife did stay for so long for a reason," He gloats, another laugh crackling through the air. Your legs quiver and pulse as heat curls in your stomach. "Springbonnie isn’t the only one far from his prime. And yet…" He pauses you. You squirm, trying to continue the feeling, though your mind is to melted to think much about it. "We both seem to be impressing you."
He gives you another nice, full drag, allowing you to roll your hips as he reaches one hand up to grope your breast instead. He lets out a pleased hum at the feeling of the flesh, and the feeling of fabric catching of fabric over your nipple sends a thrill through you, pussy weeping into the already ruined fabric. His thumb flicks over your nipple, complementing the pleasure in your clit so well.
"Mr. Afton!" You pant, hands balling up as you hump him. So close… your insides are so tight, so hot, your release a few rolls away. Tingles run up your back as you try to get there, to push yourself over the edge before he could change his mind. You almost feel it coming, something perfectly in character for him.
But instead he pinches your nipple roughly, and you go toppling over the edge. With another cry of his name, you hunch forward as your legs begin to spasm with the force of your orgasm. You stay hunched over him for a long beat, listening to him chuckle at your scrunched face and shaking. Once your strength finally comes back to you, you sit up.
A filthy, obnoxious squelch sounds when you press back. You're panting, throat raw.
"Tha… thank you, Mr. Afton," You pant, beginning to become uncomfortable. You're so wet, and it's starting to go cold. "That was…. the best I've had-"
A loud the chuckle comes from the Rabbit underneath you, cutting you off, "The best?" A large hand comes to cup half of your head, claws digging into your scalp. "I can give you much better than that, my dear," He coos. "If you can handle it, of course."
You can't. You know you can't, that your clit is sore, your legs are too, that you just had a shockingly extreme orgasm, and that another will hurt. Still, you nod. You've admitted it before and you will again - you're greedy. You want him, your desperate for him to bestow upon you all the pleasure he will, even if your body fails you from it.
He grins, "Great choice," he purrs. Both hands come back to your waist, clawed thumbs pressing into your waistbands. You feel them scratch against your skin, the metal sharp and fabric rough. When he pulls, he yanks you forward and your clothing down, revealing the top of you pubic bone. He grumbles, shifting upwards to pull you more forward, until you rest above his head. Another yank and some forceful pushing and lifting, and he manages to get your pants and underwear off of you. You're too focused on him, on that this is really happening, to wonder where they go.
He pulls you again, massive hands squeezing your ass. You squirm at how tight he manages to close around the flesh, pushing your now-bare pussy closer to his face. He meets you where you are, the jaws of the Rabbit spreading again. His eyes disappear from the holes as the head slips away from the one underneath. Your pubic bone is similarly hidden under all of the rotting fabric and metal. Under you - though you can not see - you feel the frigid skin of the man's true body against your overwhelming heat. A low groan is pulled from him as a long strip is pulled along your cunt. It's a light touch, just enough for him to have a taste - and oh, was that earlier whiff accurate - and to leave you wanting more.
"Finally," He purrs against your pussy, licks still teasing - almost like he's doing it more for himself than for you. "A taste so sweet," He continues, "How could I resist?"
"Mr. Afton," You whine, pushing your hips into him, begging for some actual substance with his touch. You need him to bless you, and yet you're unsure if he will. If this was perhaps a test of your sainthood, and not really a favor for your true dedication to him.
But just as you begin to worry, as the small amounts of pleasure in your stomach is weighed by anxiety, a firm lick comes against your clit. Solid, with the flat of his tongue. The sudden pleasure after the dip has the sensation shoot up through you, guts squeezing instantly. You moan out, hips jerking into him. It gains you a rumbling chuckle, one that rattles the rabbit head consuming your pubic bone.
That familiar heat burns through your muscles as he licks at you with genuine weight. The licking turns to sucking, pleasure broiling through you and leaving your sensitive nerves singed. Your ears ring from it, head spinning. You faintly hear yourself crying his name, panting, some kind of dull thud, but the only thing you register anymore is the textile feeling of his tongue pressing into you. A loud squelch breaks through as you squeeze down on him, causing you to squirm against the touch.
You're clawing for purchase - though you can't tell on what - as he tongue fucks you. He does it like he's taking from you, using his tongue to dig something from deep inside you. Something he wants desperately. He squeezes your ass firmly, the sharp exposed metal bitting into your skin. That and the rough push of his touch into your g-spot has you cumming, still unsure of anything but the feeling.
His tongue pulls out, swirling around your hole to catch any wetness that may have slipped past him, and runs back up to your clit. His licks are now lighter and slower, though he still uses the whole flat of his tongue instead of the tip.
Through his licking, you come back down. You're curled over him, face pressed against the wall. Embarrassingly - even if he can't see your face - you've been drooling. One hand is on the rabbit's head, while the other is clawing at the wall, fingers stinging. Your ass does as well, a distinctly different kind of wet heat sliding down the flesh there.
As you come back to some semblance of sanity, you lean back with a wince, the claws still pressed into your fresh wounds. You wipe your mouth before you speak, wanting to be presentable for your god.
"Mr…" You swallow thickly. "Mr. Afton?" The ears on the rabbit head twitch. His licking does not stop. You almost wince. Two orgasms isn't much, and you do want to keep going, but they were so strong. The lashings over your sore clit sting and your stomach aches with cramps. You squirm and pull away, though the heavy metal pinned in the soft muscle of your rump keeps you in place. Still, you get just out of reach.
"Had your fill, pup?" He taunts from underneath you. You whine a confirmation, and he begins to shift. You barely get a glance of his rotten face as you are pulled back and he reunites with the mask. He gives you one rough slap on the ass, jolting you as the still exposed wires and matted fur come into rough contact with the broken skin. He lets out another mischievous laugh. "Ah, perhaps I should rest," He announces, large paw coming to adjust the way the mask sits on his face. He fusses with it, trying to put the metal back where it belongs after being stretched for so long.
You watch, feeling a bit guilty for causing pain to him. He was being so kind to you. He was, truly, a benevolent god. You shift away from straddling him, ignoring the ache in your thighs and the sting from behind as you kneel next to him.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Afton," You tell him, hand coming to his chest. Your eyes scan over him, down to the crotch plate. You aren't sure how much of his body remains - if he could even squeeze out of it - and the thought of not being able to reciprocate sends a dull pang through your heart. He chuckles, roughly grabbing your face as his fingers bite into your cheeks.
"Such a well behaved tyke," He croons. "I suppose I forgive you. You did taste so sweet, after all," He replies, tone weighed down with his manipulative nature. Not that you care. "Now," He pats your face. "Go get me a wet cloth."
You nod, "Of course, Mr. Afton." Your legs are wobbly as you stand, thighs complaining and sticky as blood runs down the backs of them. But you pay none of it any mind. Not with the Yellow Rabbit on your bed.
Not with Mr. Afton's luminescent eyes watching so expectantly.
He's treated you so well, and now's your time to be a good little devotee.
gamechangershow
titsay
2087
snowghoul
stormborns