Warnings ⚠️: William afton x reader, possessiveness, William being a creep, age gap, degradation, Michael secretly likes the reader, smut, reader is of age.
(Writers note: This story is inspired by a fanfic I read from @orionlain, that William afton fanfic was so good, like I'm obsessed, so I wrote this dedicated to you.)
Michael had been your best friend for as long as you could remember. You two had grown up side by side, sneaking out late at night, causing trouble in the neighborhood, and sharing secrets no one else knew. Despite his tough exterior - his love for cigarettes, graffiti, and scaring his little brother with that stupid Foxy mask - he had a soft spot for you he always did.
His siblings adored you. Elizabeth would cling to you whenever you came over, begging you to play tea party with her or let her braid your hair. Evan, usually shy and withdrawn, would light up when he saw you, always wanting to sit next to you at dinner.
Michael pretended he didn't care, but you saw the way his face turned red whenever Elizabeth called you "pretty" or when his father actually acknowledged your presence - someone he rarely did with Michael.
And then there was Michael's Dad, William Afton.
He was an enigma, always composed, always watching. Unlike other adults, he didn't seem to dismiss you like just another teenager. Instead, he observed his cold silver-grey- blue eyes studying you with intensity that sent an odd shiver down your spine.
You never thought much of it at first. After all, he was Michael's father. Strict, intelligent, a bit intimidating - but nothing out of the ordinary. Or so you believed.
It was late at night. The house was quiet, the only sounds coming from the ticking clock in the hallway and Michael's light snoring from the couch. You've slept over at Michael's place often, but something about tonight felt different kinda sinister.
Curiosity got the best of you, leading you down the dimly lit hall. The basement door was slightly ajar, a silver of golden light cutting through the darkness. You hesitated, but the low hum of machinery and the occasional clinking of metal piqued your interest.
Peering inside, your breath hitched.
William stood at his workbench, sleeves rolled up, his lean but strong frame illuminated by the glow of his desk lamp. He was working on something - an animatronic, its metal frame half- assembled, wires spilling out like exposed veins.
"You're up late, darling," his voice cut through the silence, smooth and deliberate.
You swallowed, stepping fully into the room. "Sorry, I... heard a noise."
He turned to face you, and for a moment, there was something unreadable in his gaze. Then, a slow smile curved his lips. "Curious little thing, aren't you?"
Your face warmed at his words. There was something about the way he spoke - low, almost amused - that made your stomach twisted.
"I didn't mean to interrupt," you murmured, glancing at the animatronic. "I just... didn't know you built them yourself."
He wiped his hands on a rag, stepping closer. "It's a passion of mine." His eyes flickered over you, lingering. "Would you like to see?"
You nodded, unable to find your voice as he gestured for you to come closer.
The scent of oil and metal filled your nose as you stood besdie him, his presence unnervingly close. He explained his work, but you found it so hard to focus on his words when his voice was so velvety smooth with his British accent, each syllable sending an unexplainable heat down your spine.
Then, his hand brushed against yours - subtle, deliberate. Your breath caught.
"You're quiet the distraction, you know." He murmured, but you heard clearly.
Your heart pounded. "What do you mean?"
William chuckled, low and knowing, "You really don't see it, do you?" His fingers lifted, tracing a featherlight touch along your jaw. "How utterly captivating you are."
Your skin burned under his touch, a mix of fear and something else entirely swirling inside you. You had always found him attractive - though you never admitted it. He was older, Michael's father, off-limits.
And yet, here you were, alone in the dimly lit basement, his gaze heavy on you.
"Tell me, darling." He whispered, his lips dangerously close. "Have you ever been touched like this before?"
Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his voice intoxicating.
His fingers traced along your jaw, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his piercing gaze. There was something unreadable in his expression - something that made your stomach twist in a way you couldn't explain.
"You spend so much time with my son," William murmured, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. "And yet... I wonder if you've ever noticed how different we are."
Your breath caught. "Different?"
He chuckled, low and smooth, his grip tightening just ended to make your pulse race. "Michael's a foolish boy. Reckless. Always chasing after trouble." His eyes flickered over your face, drinking in every detail. "But you... you're so much more careful. Much more... delicate."
A shiver ran down your spine. You should have pulled away. Should have said something. But the way he looked at you - like he had decided you belonged to him - left you frozen in place.
"Tell me," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Does Michael know how easily you tremble under my touch?"
Your face burned as his other hand trailed down your arm, his touch slow, deliberate. You swallowed hard, unable to form a response.
William's smirk deepened. "No, I don't imagine he does." He murmured, his voice dripping with amusement, as if he were indulging in some private joke. His thumb brushed over against your knuckles, slow and deliberate.
Your breath hitched. He was too close now, his sharp, silver silver-grey-blue eyes studying your face like he was committing every detail to memory. "You seem nervous," he observed, tilting his head slightly. "Am I making you uncomfortable, dear?"
You swallowed hard, shaking your head quickly too quickly. "No! I mean... I just - I wasn't expecting to see you down here."
He chuckled, the sound low and velvety. "Ah, but surprises can be.. exciting, don't you think?" His free hand reached up, fingers barely grazing your jaw as he tucked a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. "And I do enjoy exciting things."
Your heart pounded, your body betraying you as your face grew hot. His words felt heavier than they should have, dripping with something unspoken.
"You've been such a good little guest in my home," William continued, voice barely above a whisper now, his fingers still resting against your jaw. "So polite, so sweet..." His smirk widened, his gaze darkening. "Such a tempting little thing you are."
Your breath stilled. This was dangerous. You weren't naive - you knew the way his eyes lingered, the way his touch felt just a little too intimate to be casual.
"Tell me," he leaned in just slightly,enough for you to feel his breath against yur skin, "Do you really think I haven't noticed the way you look at me?"
Your stomach twisted, heat rising to your cheeks. "I- I don't know what you mean, Mr. Afton-"
A low chuckle rumbled in his throat. "Oh, but you do," he murmured, his fingers trailing lower, brushing against the delicate pulse of your throat. "You've always been such a sweet little thing, haven't you? So polite, so eager to please... No wonder Michael keeps you close."
The mention of Michael should have snapped you back to reality, should have reminded you that this - whatever this was - shouldn't be happening. And yet, the way William studied you, like a puzzle he was piecing together with precision, made it impossible to step away.
He sighed, almost mockingly. "Such a shame, really.. the way he takes you for granted." His fingers trailed down to length of your arm, slow and deliberate. "If I had something as lovely as you. I'd make sure you knew your worth."
Your lips parted, but no words came out. The room suddenly felt too warm, the dim light casting sharp shadows over this sharp features.
William smirked, sensing your hesitation. "No need to be shy, dove. I see the way your hands tremble, the way your breath catches.. Is it fear?" His hand slid behind your waist, pulling you flush against the desk. "Or is it something else?"
William's grip tightened at your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you shiver. "I think," he murmured, voice rich with amusement. "You like the attention, don't you, bunny?"
Before you could respond, he lifted you up with ease, setting you down onto the desk. The cold surface met the warmth of your skin, sending a jolt through you. Your pulse pounded as he stood between your legs, his presence overwhelming, suffocating in the best way.
His hands traced up your thighs, slow, skilled, deliberate, his touch rough with callouses. "So soft," he mused, fingers pressing in spreading you open just enough to make you gasp in pleasure. "A delicate little thing like you, trembling for me... Tell me, love, do you have any idea how irresistible you are?"
Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips ghosting against your ear. "I've thought about this," he admitted, voice low, sinful. "About having you like this, beneath me, taking every inch I give you."
A sharp click cut through the air, and your eyes dropped to his hands. Williams fingers worked through at the buckle of his belt, slow, deliberate, his gaze locked onto yours as he pulled it free from the loops. The leather hissed against the fabric of his slacks, the sound sending a fresh wave of anticipation through you.
You couldn't help but stare at the veiny cock, it wasn't it was big like you you seen in porn magazines,it was throbbing, a bit veiny, and thick, for such a skinny man, he had a really big dick.
William chuckled at the way your face looks at his cock, He interrupted your thoughts. "Keep those pretty eyes on me, dove." He instructed, smirking as he let the belt drop to the floor with a heavy thud. "I want to see every little reaction."
Before you could respond, he inserted himself inside, making you gasp in pain, but you enjoyed the feeling of the way he was inside you. His movements were firm, controlled, as he pulled you forward, pressing you further against the desk. A deep groan escaped him as he filled you, stretching you with a delicious ache that you never thought you craved. Your fingers gripped at his shoulders for stability, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as he thrusted in you at a relentless pace.
"Look at you," he rasped, eyes dark as they bore into yours. "So perfect, taking me so well, like the whore you are." His hands roamed, one sliding up your spine, pressing between your shoulder blades to arch your back. The other gripped your hop holding you in place as he drove into you.
A whimper slipped through your lips, and his smirks deepened at the beautiful sight seeing you so weak, submissive, the tears pooling through your eyes. "That's it, bunny... let me hear you." His voice molten, dripping with satisfaction. "Let me hear you much you love this."
The desk creaked beneath you, each moves sending shivers through your body. His praise was relentless, murmured against your skin like a worshipper at an altar. "Such a good girl, taking me so beautifully, you were made for my cock, weren't you?"
His pace never slowed, each thrust felt so deliberate, like it was claiming you. Your name spilled from his lips a prayer, laced with possession. "Mine, you hear?" He growled, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin. "Mine to ruin, mine to fuck, mine to adore."
Your body trembled beneath him, overwhelmed by sensation, by the weight of his words. And when you shattered, he wasn't far behind, groaning your name as he buried himself one final time.
"Oh my- Mr. afton, I'm gonna cum~" you gasped out loudly for you to hear he chuckled at the sight. You looked a complete mess for him at his mercy.
Go ahead my precious, slut." He reassured as his thrust were getting sloppy, he felt your heat through your core, you came as William stopped his thrusts as both of you panted face to face, in satisfaction.
William let out a deep, satisfied exhale, his hands still gripping on your hips as he finally slowed his movements. The air between you was thick with heat, your bodies tangled in the dim basement light. For a moment, the room was filled only with your labored breaths, the scent of sweat, and something deeper clinging to the air.
William was the first to move rolling his shoulders back as he exhaled in satisfaction. Slowly, he withdrew, watching with an unreadable expression as you shivered from the sudden emptiness. His fingers trailed down to your thighs before he stepped back entirely, reaching for his belt.
The clink of the metal buckle snapped you out of your daze. You watched, still sprawled across the desk, as he threaded the leather back through the loops of his slacks with practiced ease. The entire time, his gaze never left you.
You swallowed,hard, suddenly hyperaware of your own state - your rumpled clothes, the heat still lingering between your legs, the unmistakably sting of his rough game on your skin. You sat up slowly, fixing your clothing as best you could.
Just as you were about to slip off the desk, William was there again, looming close. His fingers found your chin, tilting your face up toward him. His silver-grey-blue eyes gleamed with something dark- possessive, knowing.
"Look at you, love," he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent a shiver down your spine. "So pretty when you're all flustered."
Your breath hitched, and you hated how your body responds to his words. He smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction.
You hesitated, words failing you. You shouldn't say something- anything- but what could you possibly say? This was wrong. It was so, so wrong.
But it didn't feel wrong.
William leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. "I'd love to keep you here all night," he mused, his tone almost playful. "But I imagine you need to get home before Michael starts wondering where his precious little friend disappeared to."
You tore yourself away from William's touch, suddenly desperate to get you out of there. He let you go easily, stepping back with a chuckle as you hurriedly adjusted yourself, making surreal you look somewhat presentable.
"You should get going, darling," he hummed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the desk. "We wouldn't want anyone asking questions now, would we?"
You ignored the way your hands trembled as you smoothed down your shirt. Without another word, you turned toward the basement door, your heart hammering against your ribs.
As you climbed the steps, you forced yourself to breathe evenly to act normal. You peeked into the living room, your chest tightening when you saw Michael still passed out on the couch, his arm draped over his face, completely unaware.
Guilt clawed at your throat.
What the hell did I just do?
You shook the thought away and slipped out the front door, the cool night air hitting you like a slap to the face. It did little to calm the fire still burning beneath your skin.
Your bike was still leaned against the porch of the railing. You climbed on, pedaling faster than necessary, as if you could escape what had just happened by sheer force alone. The streets were quiet, the only sound of the whirring of your tires against the pavement.
Your house wasn't far, but every second felt stretched, your mind replaying everything that had transpired in that basement. The way William had looked at you, the way he touched you, the way he ruined you.
You liked every single moment of it.
The thought made your stomach churn. You should feel disgusted, ashamed. You should hate what just happened.
By the time you reached your house, your hands felt clammy against the handlebars. You let your bike fall onto the grass and stumbled inside, locking the door behind you. The house was dark and quiet, your parents long asleep.
You climbed upstairs to your room, shutting the door behind you as you collapsed onto your bed. Staring at the ceiling, your fingers subconsciously brushed over your lips, still tingling from his last kiss.
Your heart pounded. You wanted to regret it. You wanted to feel disgusted.
But all you could think about... was William.
And that scared you more than anything.
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