Is your F/O unpopular? Who cares! No matter how many people judge you for them, F/O will never judge you for loving them.
Is your F/O niche? That’s amazing- they’re all yours! F/O is so happy that you are their one and only.
Is your F/O inhuman/an object, monster or humanoid animal? How cool is it that you get to learn empathy for even more groups of people! Or, in this case, nonhumans, I suppose.
Is your F/O evil/a criminal? You can be the one to shine a little bit of light in their life! Or you can help them in their evil schemes. Both are valid!
Does your F/O have no merch? Good thing consumerism doesn’t prove how valid you are! Plus, you can be creative and make exactly the merch you’d always want.
Are you transgender/queer/PoC/another marginalized group? Don’t worry! F/O will always love and support you, and anyone who says otherwise is lying- F/O told me so just the other day.
Are you mentally ill? F/O is there for you! They never judge you and do their absolute best to take care of you.
Do you love your yumeship in a way other than romantic/platonic/familial? Thats amazing! Even though these other ways of loving aren’t well represented, your F/O understands you better than anyone else. Keep pushing for the representation you deserve.
Have you been harassed for your F/O in the past? That’s incredibly harmful! For some people, F/O picks you, not the other way around- always remember you are loved and valid no matter what people who don’t understand say.
Are you insecure of your F/O or yumeship? That’s understandable, and even as you work through your insecurity, F/O still loves you! They understand your struggle, and are not jealous or upset.
Your F/O loves you, no matter what. Let’s support each other more as yumeshippers this year🤍🤎☕️🥯🐇
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.
