His Flower (Springtrap x Reader)

Nicotine For My Soul

You scurried inside, obeying his every command. He glared down at you, fur dripping and whiskers lit up from the wetness. He shook himself fully, splattering you, the walls, and the surroundings around the two of you. "Ugh! Gross, dude! My mouth was open!" You snapped at him. Your mouth quickly shut as he loomed over you, eyes narrowing dangerously. Springtrap was too close for comfort, and you dared to take a step back. He followed you. He had you pressed up against the wall now, and you trembled, unsure if it was from fear or from the cold. A mix of both perhaps. He grabbed the collar of your t-shirt and yanked you to his face. "I care not that your foul mouth was open. I would put good use to it." Was he flirting? You wondered. He rolled his eyes as if he could read your mind. A flash of fear struck through you. What if he could? Fuck. Well, you weren't dead yet, that was a good sign right? Springtrap had let you go and was staring down at you. "... Oh, sorry. Did you say something?" You asked. "I asked if you had any paper or pen on you." He said coldly. You scrambled for your bag, which was left at the front. "Uh, yeah. It's at the front. Should I go get it?" You asked, and he nodded. You started a brisk walk to it, hearing the heavy steps behind you. You looked back and were met with his chest right next to you. Fuck, he was huge. Standing at maybe 6 or 7 feet, Springtrap followed you to the front. You fished through your bag and drew out a pad of paper and pen and handed it to him. He did not take it. "Oh, right, sorry. Those paws are huge, ahaha!" You tried to joke. He snorted. "Sit." He ordered, dragging you into a small office with a large window and a dinky moth eaten chair. He pressed down on your shoulders, forcing you to sit. You shivered, and reminded yourself to wash your clothes one extra time... "Write what I say." He snapped, slamming his paw on the counter, getting your full attention. You looked up at him, showing you were ready. "You will gather me these items when you return next." You didn't dare show your excitement when he said you could leave. Well, he didn't, but hinted at it...? "Yes, sir." You said quietly. His ears twitched at "Sir.", but he chose to ignore it. "10 gallons of gasoline, no more, no less. I want it by next week. Three lighters, a 5 foot rope, and duct tape." You wrote it all down and wondered what it was all for. Again, as if he could read your mind, Springtrap gave you a stern glare and waited for you to stop writing. You finished writing and showed him. He leaned down and looked at it, giving you a rare nod of approval. "I never caught your name, child." He spoke, sounding gentle. "... Y/n." You replied, quietly. "Y/n." He repeated. "Yes, sir." There it was again. His eyes flashed with an unreadable emotion. He stood up from sitting on his hips, joints creaking. "You may leave now." He said, sounding distant and lost in his own thoughts. You scrambled for the door, but your shirt was yanked back as he had grabbed it, dragging you towards him. He titled your chin to look up at him, your head leaning against his belly. "But remember this, Y/n, if you fail to report back to me, or try to call anyone and tell them about our little... Meeting... I will hunt you down. No matter where you go, what you say or do, you belong to me now. Do you understand?" You felt the bile rising in your throat. His touch was gentle, he wasn't forcing you, but he was keeping you there. You swallowed down your fear and whispered a tiny "Yes, sir." He seemed pleased with your answer and released your chin from his gentle grasp, leaving you with shaky and weak knees. You scooped up your bag and crushed phone, casting one last look at him before running out into the now pouring rain, fumbling for your keys. 

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Springtrap POV:

Springtrap watched you run out into the rain. You would make a very good sidekick for him. He smiled to himself, lumbering back outside to the back to enjoy the rain. You did everything he told you without question. You were perfect. He lumbered inside again and snatched up an old pack of cigarettes and dug around for a lighter or a pack of matches. He was rewarded with a lighter that was half full. He stepped outside again and put a cigarette in his rather large mouth and took a long drag from it. A sigh of relaxation drug itself out of his decayed lungs. Springtrap thought back to when you had called him sir. How he loved it. You were more than perfect, you were his. And no one was allowed to have you, no one but him. He knew it was only a matter of time before Henry would torment him again with his worthless son, Michael. But he didn't care. He'd get to it before either of them ever could. Rattling brought him back from his delightful thoughts. Furious, he stood up still holding his cigarette in his jaws. He quickly located the sound of the rattling, and put both of his hands on a dumpster, where the sound was. A homeless man was rummaging in the rubbish and bags. He smelled of alcohol. Springtrap stayed quiet while watching him, fascinated how the idiot didn't pick up that he was there. He took another long drag of the cigarette and snorted out the smoke, hoping to catch the man's attention. He didn't. "Eh, fuckin' ol' rats got it before me..." He was muttering. Springtrap rolled his eyes and flicked his now used up cigarette at the fool. The rat of a man finally whipped around, pulling out a rusty knife and closing one of his bloodshot bleary eyes to get a better look at Springtrap. "What the hell are you s'possed to be?! Halloween ain't 'til next year, ya big dummy! Hahaha! Hey, ya got any money I can borrow for a quick drink? Help a brother out!" He stumbled towards Springtrap, still waving the knife wildly. Springtrap narrowed his eyes and let the man come closer. "Sure, I'll help you." He said, sarcastically. The drunk laughed and hoisted himself over the dumpster, landing on his face. He scrambled up and got into close proximity to Springtrap, running his hands all over his ragged body, searching for cash. Springtrap stood there, silent. The rat looked up at him and widened his left eye at the monster, glaring at him. "You said ya had a quick dollar for a drink, brother! You ain't lyin' to me, are you?" He slurred out. Springtrap snorted. "I said I would help you, so here. I'll help put you out of your misery." He grabbed the man's head and smashed it against the brick wall of the disgusting, unkempt and abandoned building of Fazbear's Frights. The man screamed in pain and writhed in Springtrap's grip. He kept smashing his head over and over and over until.... Everything was silent. The night was still. Springtrap looked at his victim's face. It had been smashed to unrecognition. Good. "No one will miss you anyways." He said, coldly, dragging the man to the lake and a bag of garbage. Tying it round his neck, he threw the now dead man into the lake and watched him sink down slowly. Many more of his victims were laid to rest there, including Kelsey. Two children had buried their dog he had killed in that spot, but risking losing you to his cruelty and ignorance for life was not a risk he was willing to take.

Yet.