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redux-iterum · 7 months

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Burning Hearts: Chapter Thirty-Two

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Screaming woke him up. Frostfur’s screams.

Fireheart jumped to his feet before his eyes were even open, and when they did open they were greeted with blinding sunlight and a sea of cats outside, spreading out to the various dens. The air was thick with rogue-scent.

Before he could make another move, several scarred strangers poured into the warriors’ den. He was knocked over and trampled by heavy feet, barely avoiding having the wind stomped out of him by holding his breath. The den immediately lit up with screeches and yowls. Those who weren’t awake yet were grabbed by their scruffs and hauled off their nests, while the more alert were already tackling the intruders, shoving back against the wave and forcing them backwards into the open.

Fireheart managed to get up again and duck past a black cat rolling with Mousefur in her grip, charging into the open, followed by his Clanmates. They rushed by him and lunged for the nearest rogue, roaring challenges. The rogues met them easily, almost preemptively turning to face the cat closing in on them and catching them, rolling and whirling in clouds of fur and claws.

But— hang on. Every way Fireheart looked, the rogues were more biting and batting than really using their claws. Their faces had the look of apprehension more than anger or malice.

Like they’re not even trying.

On instinct, Fireheart’s eyes darted to the camp entrance. A large, dark brown tail was slipping through the tunnel.

“No!” Fireheart dove through the crowd, sprinting after the tail, but before he could take more than a few steps, he was knocked over again. This time, he was pinned to the ground, and no thrashing he did could get the weight off. He glared up at his attacker, a dark ginger tom who returned his anger with sullen boredom.

“Sorry, kid,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere. Orders.”

“Get off him!”

The tom looked up in mild surprise before a grey blur barreled into him and sent him flying into the crowd of fighters. Fireheart wasted no time in scrambling upright, greeted by a bristling Greystripe.

“He just left camp!” Fireheart shouted over the chaos.

“Get to him!” Ravenwing slipped past Lizardtail wrestling with a tortoiseshell and started for the tunnel. “We’ll cover you!”

Greystripe nodded. “Just give us time to get there too.”

A scream of rage and blood hit Fireheart’s ear. He turned his head; Goldenflower had left the nursery and was slashing the face of another molly who was dancing around her, looking very uneager to fight the matriarch.

“Go!” Ravenwing yelled. “She’ll be fine! They’re not hurting anyone!”

Wrenching his eyes away, Fireheart ran for the entrance. Several times he was shoved or had to stop to let a pair of fighters pass, and a couple more cats leaped for him, only to be met with Ravenwing or Greystripe tackling them out of the way. Even so, it seemed to take an entire season to reach the entrance. With no cats on him, Fireheart pushed through and made the sharpest turn anyone could for Bluestar’s den.

No cats were outside, but voices could be heard coming from there.

“Tigerclaw, let me through!” Bluestar snarled. “You aren’t stopping me!”

Tigerclaw’s voice now, muted. “I’m sorry.”

Bluestar faltered. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” Tigerclaw said louder, his voice almost pained. “I’m so sorry, Bluestar. This is for the good of ThunderClan.”

Fireheart reached the den just as a screech was cut off and turned into chokes. The lichen curtain flapped and he was greeted with the back of Tigerclaw, with Bluestar thrashing and spitting on the ground. Tigerclaw’s teeth were on her throat, biting down hard enough to draw blood.

“DON’T!” Fireheart bellowed, charging right into his father’s back legs.

The surprise attack did the trick; Tigerclaw’s back end buckled and he released Bluestar, turning around in alarm as Bluestar coughed and wheezed, clawing the ground to pull herself away from him. Blazing amber eyes met an intense, deep green. The fire in the amber went out and Tigerclaw’s mouth opened wordlessly.

Fireheart stood back up, tail lashing and every hair on his back skyward with an anger he was trying to force himself to feel.

“I know,” he said, throat tight enough to barely let him speak. “I know everything.”

Slowly, Tigerclaw’s face fell.

“Fireheart!”

He didn’t take his eyes off of Tigerclaw, but he nodded in acknowledgement as Greystripe and Ravenwing came around the corner and ducked into the leader’s den, panting angrily. Greystripe wasted no time in leaping at Tigerclaw, fangs bared and claws extended in as wide a stretch as a cat’s paw could get. Even being a little shorter than Tigerclaw, his weight worked it out for him—Tigerclaw was knocked down with a coughed grunt and Greystripe pinned him down, a dog’s snarl on his face.

“You’re paying for Lionface,” he ground out through his teeth.

Tigerclaw offered no argument. He lay still, his eyes shut in a grimace.

“You’re paying for everyone,” Ravenwing said, glaring the deputy down. “You disgusting excuse for a cat, calling yourself a warrior.”

Fireheart’s eyes turned to Ravenwing now in surprise. His friend was bristling too. Even as calm as he sounded, his face was cold, steely anger, eyes narrowed and tail twitching. Fireheart didn’t comment. He instead went around Greystripe and bent close to Bluestar, who was getting her breath back.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice low and stupidly gentle.

Bluestar’s throat was bleeding and her breath rough and wet, but she slowly got to her feet with a nod barely restraining fury. “Thank you.”

A yowl sounding suspiciously like a signal-cry sounded off. Outside, paws shoved through ferns and brush. Ravenwing poked his head outside and sighed in relief.

“They’re retreating,” he said when he brought his head in again. “I’ll grab guards. Keep him pinned, Greystripe.”

Greystripe grunted, his eyes firmly fixed on Tigerclaw’s morose face.

Bluestar coughed again and drew in a ragged breath. Fireheart leaned against her as softly as he could, which she returned with a haggard sigh.

Outside, confused conversation drew closer, Ravenwing’s voice sharp and direct.

“Don’t let him get away, for all that you’re worth,” he said. “Get him into camp immediately.”

Whitecloud’s head parted the lichen, followed by Dustpelt. Their faces scrunched up in further confusion at the scene before them.

“What in the world…?” Dustpelt squinted.

“Come help us,” Fireheart said quietly. “Tigerclaw just tried to kill Bluestar.”

Dustpelt’s eyes flew open wide. He didn’t ask questions, thankfully, just stepped into the crowded den. Greystripe lifted his weight off of Tigerclaw and backed up, giving the tabby a hard shove with his paw and forcing him to his feet. Tigerclaw made no effort to defend himself or run, just dragged his feet along after Whitecloud and Dustpelt, Greystripe close at his back and Ravenwing at his side.

Fireheart looked up at Bluestar silently. She didn’t meet his eyes, just sighed again, this time more guttural, and stood, following the patrol out. Fireheart’s stomach went queasy as he followed her.

Camp was, thank the stars, only sparsely dotted with blood. Most cats had slight nicks on their ears or cuts on their faces and paws that they were grooming away. Some were remarking to each other about the strange attack. Those remarks trailed off as Tigerclaw was brought to the ground in front of the meeting stump, which Bluestar jumped up onto. At her beckoning tail, Fireheart, Greystripe and Ravenwing went to stand at its side, Ravenwing’s jaw tense and Greystripe still glowering at Tigerclaw. The gathering crowd traded puzzled looks that were quickly changing to worried ones at the anger on Bluestar’s face.

When everyone was gathered, Bluestar spoke. “Is everyone alright? Are we all alive?” Confirmations peppered through the crowd and she stood tall. “Then we can get directly to the point.” She grit her teeth. “Our deputy just made an attempt on my life.”

Baffled, disbelieving shock rippled through camp. Goldenflower was making her way around the crowd, her face frightened and struggling to comprehend. Fireheart’s chest ached for her.

“It was brought to my attention last night that he had an interest in getting rid of me,” Bluestar went on. “He’s tried multiple times, as a matter of fact.” She looked down at the younger warriors. “If you three would care to elaborate?”

With a heavy heart, and at her nod, Fireheart jumped up onto the stump, where she dropped off to let Greystripe and Ravenwing on as well. With so many eyes on him, Fireheart was vaguely reminded of when he was first brought into the Clan, with skeptical gazes and suspicious squints. He’d give anything for this to just be appraising his value again.

Before he could open his mouth, Ravenwing straightened up and spoke, his voice as even and clear as when he had told Theful’s story.

“Tigerclaw has been murdering his way up the ranks for months now,” he said. “First, he killed Redtail. When everyone was fighting in WindClan territory, he pushed Redtail into the Gorge and said that a rogue did it.”

“Then Lionface became deputy,” Greystripe said, teeth clenched. “And Tigerclaw arranged to have rogues kill him.” He burned a hole in Tigerclaw’s head as he glared down at him. “And I’ll bet you also arranged to have the rogues attack us tonight as cover for Bluestar, didn’t you?”

Ravenwing laid a tail on Greystripe’s side, quieting him. He added, “Then when he was deputy, the next step was to get rid of Bluestar. He tried a poisoned rat-” Swiftpaw recoiled out of the corner of Fireheart’s eye. “-but that failed. Twice he called her to the border for a ‘scent’, and twice someone else nearly died instead of her. First Cinderpaw, and then Fireheart.” He leaned forward a little to look at Fireheart past Greystripe. “And you saw the rogues that we were told by kittypets were the ones to kill Lionface.”

Fireheart nodded glumly.

“Wait—” Willowpelt bristled. “Cinderpaw was crippled because—”

“Because Tigerclaw wanted to get Bluestar to be hit by a car, we can presume,” Ravenwing said. “Or at least kill her himself and then push her body onto the road to make it look like she was hit.”

Willowpelt started shaking violently, her expression a terrible mix of rage and grief.

“And those rogues Fireheart saw, they were probably supposed to kill her too. But Fireheart got there instead, and Tigerclaw conveniently caught him and brought him back home before he could get hurt.” Ravenwing’s voice rang out in the dead silent clearing. “And those very same rogues tried to kill Greystripe a few nights ago. Greystripe can confirm, they verbally identified him and targeted him.”

“It’s true,” Greystripe said darkly. “They said ‘that’s him, the big grey one’, and started cutting me up.”

A wave of gasps and exclamations.

“That– that can’t be,” Sandstorm said, her voice unusually shaky. “Why would he ever want you and the others dead?”

Greystripe and Ravenwing looked at Fireheart, who took a breath, prayed for composure, and opened his mouth.

“Because he considers all of them traitors,” he said, soft despite his efforts to speak clearly and loudly. “Redtail wanted to help ShadowClan, and Lionface wanted to help RiverClan. Bluestar agreed to both of these things and has helped the other Clans out otherwise, and Greystripe had kits with an outsider. We talked last night.” He felt rather than saw Tigerclaw flinch and stare at him in betrayal, but forced himself to continue. “He cares for ThunderClan and wants us to grow and be strong. Having anything to do with the other Clans gets in the way of that. He’s ready to kill a few cats to save the majority.” His ears folded back against his head. “Or, at least, I hope he wants to save the majority.”

Whitecloud, stunned, stared at Tigerclaw. “Is this… is this true?”

Tigerclaw didn’t say anything for a long, horribly tense moment, his head down. Slowly, he lifted it and met the eyes of his Clanmates.

“Yes,” he said.

The crowd collectively jolted with wordless shouts of anger and horror. Tigerclaw stood and waited for the noise to die down to speak—his tone, Fireheart noted with some anguish, was that of a father soothing a frightened kitten.

“This Clan is a magnificent collection of the finest warriors who ever lived,” he said. “But we’ve lost our way with our leadership being who it is and was. Bluestar is a danger to ThunderClan, giving away our prey and time and effort to strangers who would turn their backs on us or feed us to foxes the instant we’re no longer useful to them. We need to stand alone, become stronger and wiser than any colony out there in the world. Wasting even a moment on the other Clans puts us all at risk.”

“By giving them skinny wrens?” Greystripe snapped. “By making friends with cats who don’t stand a chance against us?”

“You’ve forgotten that we’re already the strongest Clan of the four,” Ravenwing agreed, eyes burning. “And you know what? Even if we weren’t, who cares? They’re cats like us, aren’t they? I should have been hunting for them too.” He bent his head down a little in Tigerclaw’s direction. “Or would you have me murdered along with Greystripe?”

“Funny that you never tried to kill Fireheart, despite all that he’s done,” Greystripe continued. “I guess your worldview has a few blindspots when it’s convenient for you, doesn’t it?”

Tigerclaw twisted his head and looked up at Fireheart. Fireheart had the sudden urge to shut his eyes and bury his face in his paws. Out of the corner of his eye, Cinderpaw fell against her brother, aghast, and Yellowfang bristled enough to outsize her apprentice.

“I’ll crush your skull!” she roared, and surged forward as if she didn’t have a limp. Teaselfoot and Lizardtail dove in her way and barely managed to restrain her until Cinderpaw weakly touched her paw to Yellowfang’s side and pulled at her. Yellowfang stopped her struggles, but the murder was still in her burning orange eyes as she stepped back to stand with Cinderpaw.

Tigerclaw’s face was baffled as he looked between each of his Clanmates, whose shock was turning to rage. Unsteadily, he said, “I– I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I had to put a stop to them, for ThunderClan. It grieves me that anyone had to die at all. And Cinderpaw, I never wanted her to—”

“But she did,” Bluestar said. “And you did, even if you ‘didn’t want to’.”

“How could you?!” Brindleface cried from the back of the crowd. “How many of us were you going to kill to get what you wanted?!”

Frostfur shoved her way through the crowd, snarling, “My mate! My litter’s father! For nothing!”

Something nudged Fireheart. He looked to see Bluestar retracting her paw and gesturing for him to leave the stump. He obeyed, Greystripe and Ravenwing following while Bluestar took their place. They turned and stood facing Tigerclaw. Fireheart slouched on the edge of the crowd, just close enough to see Tigerclaw’s self-doubt start to show up on his face.

“Enough of this,” Bluestar said. “Whatever good you could have done, you’ve committed so much worse. You’ve pretended to be loyal all this time, when you’ve murdered for power. That’s the truth of it, Tigerclaw—you killed to become leader. You don’t have a drop of good will in you. Not any that hasn’t been swallowed whole by your crimes.” She lifted her head and spoke louder. “Keeping this cat alive is a risk to all of us, and I refuse to not make him pay for what he’s done. And s—”

She stopped, her mouth halfway open. For just an instant, the fury in her eyes was doused, a heavy pain replacing it. For just an instant, her face was that of a wounded bird, lost and frightened of whatever they saw before them. Fireheart watched in grieved fascination as his mentor shut her mouth, swallowed hard enough to force a large lump down her throat, and continued, even though her words were fighting valiantly to hide their trembles and that fury was barely lighting her eyes again.

“And so I call upon StarClan to grant me the power I have never wanted to use,” she said, quiet, before forcing her voice to echo through the camp. “As punishment for his uncountable, unimaginably horrible crimes, I erase the name ‘Tigerclaw’ from the hearts and memories of ThunderClan, and I sentence this scourge to death.” She heaved out the tail end of a shaky breath and looked down at her Clan. “Do we have volunteers to assist in the execution?”

A moment of silence, before Greystripe looked up at her and said, “Me.”

“And me,” Frostfur said.

“I’ll do it, too,” Willowpelt said, a storm in her eyes.

Dustpelt flexed his claws. “Me as well.”

Speckletail, standing next to Goldenflower, nodded curtly. “Count me in, too.”

The deputy stared at them, his shock turning to fear. His mouth moved multiple times as he tried to get words out before he finally managed, “You can’t– you can’t mean that. I’ve done everything in my life for all of you– I can be a better leader than her, I can make up for—”

“Rot, you can!” Dustpelt took a step forward, somehow looming over the deputy despite being considerably smaller. “You murdered my mentor, too! And your own apprentice’s father! How can you POSSIBLY make up for that?!”

The deputy had nothing. He trembled, looking around wildly for help, only to be met with glares and wrinkled muzzles.

“Goldenflower, speak for me,” he said, turning to his mate and stretching out a paw.

She flinched away from him, staring at him in horror.

“My brother…” she whispered.

The deputy withdrew his paw, looking genuinely hurt, before his gaze caught his uncle. “Halftail…”

The dark tabby narrowed his eyes and said nothing.

As soon as the deputy’s increasingly frantic eyes landed on Sandstorm, he opened his mouth. Before he could speak, Sandstorm silently marched up to him, raised a paw with unsheathed claws and slashed across his face. Blood-drops hit the ground and the deputy, disbelieving, pawed at the wound where several slash marks barely missed his eyes and spread over his nose and muzzle.

“Let’s not waste any time,” Bluestar said as Sandstorm backed away with cold fury in her eyes. “Surround him and escort him outside. No one needs to see this.”

“Make it slow,” Yellowfang ground out.

Willowpelt met the seer’s eyes and nodded darkly. She and the other volunteers made a ring around the deputy, the crowd spacing out to give them room, and started the march towards the entrance.

The deputy walked silently, but as he reached Fireheart, he stopped. He looked down at the only son that he was ever going to live to see, his eyes foggy and afraid.

Fireheart couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. All he could do was meet the deputy’s eyes and try to communicate the pain and grief he was feeling.

I’m sorry, he thought, hoping the deputy heard. I’m more sorry than you could ever know.

The deputy didn’t hear. He hung his head low, his face creased with shame.

Greystripe nudged him hard enough to almost topple him. “Move it.”

The deputy said nothing. Tail dragging on the floor, he walked with the party on the path to his death.

Fireheart watched him go. He still couldn’t say a word.

#warrior cats #redux iterum #iterum #chapter #chapter thirty two #book two #arc one #burning hearts #HERE WE GOOOOOOO

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draconic-ichor · 2 months

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The Cat, The Sun, and The Moon

Fnaf fanfic

Sun/moon x female oc

Part 7

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, brief mentions of medication/sickness/mucus, hand kink, vaginal fingering, Masturbation, brief mention of bugs

Summary: As Tabitha heals from her chest infection there’s a shift in her relationship with her two animatronic roommates…

Feedback appreciated, 18+. We finally at the smut chapter!

With the antibiotics, Tabby improved drastically over the next week. The boys doted on her around the clock, keeping her on a strict schedule of food and sleep. She noticed that they had started being much more handsy, petting her or simply touching an arm or leg whenever they could.

Besides touches, the boys started displaying little acts of courtship as well; mostly bringing tiny gifts or doing acts of service. Sun ramped up the pampering while Moon searched around for hidden treasures, while they both made artwork for her.

Tabby woke from a late nap by Moon crawling onto the bed. She rubbed her eyes, yawning.

Moon eagerly held out his hand to her, smile spanning his faceplate.

She blinked, looking into his palm curiously. Her body tensed: there was a large dead bug in his hand.

“Jesus!” She cursed, waking up fully.

Moon cocked his head, offering out the little prize like a proud cat.

“T-Thank you…for killing it.” Tabby managed, backpedaling to mask her initial shock.

He made expectant movements, smile faltering a bit.

She wilted, steeling herself before carefully picking up the insect, depositing it on the nightstand for later disposal.

Moon beamed, coming closer to cuddle her. He made a contented purring rasp from his voicebox, faceplate nuzzling into her side.

Success!

Tabitha never connected the dots, the animatronics keeping up the shenanigans all the while.

She didn’t know they were constantly replaying her words through their minds like a mantra echoing through their whole being.

Even when I’m not sick…I’ll love you.

I’ll love you.

I’ll love you…

By day ten she was well enough to return to work, the only lingering symptom hacking up mucus. Sun made comments about being a good house husband for her, his smile widening at her blush the statement brought.

“What if I get takeout and we watch a movie tonight?” Tabby offered, trying to change the subject, “To celebrate, you know?”

“Tired of soup?” Sun asked, amused.

“Well…” she wilted, adding quickly, “It’s not that it’s bad!”

Sun tilted his head, smiling mischievously, “Don’t check your thermos I packed then.”

“Is…Is it soup?” She asked worriedly.

When he looked away, smile widening, she feigned distress.

“Sun! Sun, is it soup?”

He started to crack, turning away as giggling bubbled from his speaker.

“Oh God, Sun!” Tabby hammed up, leaning against the counter as if she was starting to faint, “Please, don’t…please have mercy! Not more soup!”

“It’s soup.” He managed, voice eeking out before bursting into laughter.

“NOOOOOOOOOO!” Tabby cried, putting a hand over her face making him lose himself even more.

Over the time she spent at home, Tabby also hooked the boys up with a direct messaging app, it being much easier to use than email. She unwittingly opened herself up to them sending memes and pictures all hours of the day though.

Sun loved animal memes, especially ones with crying cats, while Moon normally sent obscure images with one word text.

Tabby checked her phone on her lunch, finding such things.

She took a selfie of herself with the thermos, sending it to Sun with the text: Soup time.

He sent a picture of a fat kitten back saying: full of soup.

She giggled.

Tabby: What food would you like with the movie?

Sun: Up to you! You’ll be eating it after all

Tabby: I was going to share, it’s a celebration

Sun: PIZZA

Tabby: Remember last time you ate melted cheese???

Sun: *crying cat*

Moon: No cheese.

Tabby: XD

Sun: *even more crying cat pictures*

After work Tabby decided to stop for Chinese takeout, heeding Moon’s earlier warning. She ordered extra, just in case the animatronics wanted to try any. After a period of caution the boys were in full swing of filling lost time with trying foods.

Her mind wandered as she waited, the wanderings not stopping even after entering the apartment.

While Sun greeted her and she placed the multiple small boxes on the counter, her thoughts pooled:

One downside to having a seven foot animatronic, that is constantly aware and active, stalking about the apartment is that there is never really a safe time to take care of more…personal needs. Especially after Tabby realized Moon was a damn near constant observer to her at night. For lack of better terms, she was pent up.

All of their little touches as of late pushing her closer to the edge. It had been a long time since she looked at a person and desired them in such a way. Of course she watched porn or read dirty stories, but she’d become almost jaded to real touch after past traumas.

But these were animatronics!

Just as human as anyone else she’d ever met, and much kinder than most men she crossed paths with.

And their hands…

Her mind roamed.

“Starlight?”

Tabby jumped, realizing Sun had been talking to her.

“Oh sorry…” she blinked, cheeks rosy as she asked, “What was that?”

He tilted his head, single optic narrowing as he gave a calculating eye over her. She avoided his gaze…curious.

“I was just telling you: I got a job!” He announced again, brightening.

“Oh!” Tabby smiled, but asked quickly, “What do you mean, though?”

“Well,” Sun’s rays spun excitedly, “I was asked to be Dakota’s and Donn’s new babysitter! I’ll be able to see them four days a week and it’s all during the day when you will be at work.”

“Sun, that’s so good!” Tabby smiled, happy for him, “That will be so good for you.”

“Yea!” He agreed, “Different apartment for a change of scenery. And she’s even going to pay me! I've never been paid for anything before.”

“That’s really good, Sun.” She reiterated, “Congratulations!”

“Thank you!” Sun’s rays spun again.

They sat closely on the couch, mimicking the pose taken previously when she was repairing their hands. Sun watched the movie, begging for little bites here and there.

Tabby, eating right out of the box to save on dishes, would lift the box up above her for him to steal some. His rays would spin happily every time.

As the food was finished and leftovers put away she relaxed back into him. Sun held her, cuddling becoming a normality since her bout of sickness.

He didn’t breathe, no rise and fall to his chest, no heartbeat when she lay her head back against him. She instead listened to the mechanisms inside, still little sounds of life that echoed from within.

The warmth that radiated from him made all those thoughts worm back into her mind…

Tabby felt a familiar ache, squeezing her legs together in an effort to push down whatever was threatening to bubble up. She tried to focus on the movie, playing with her shirt sleeve a bit nervously.

“Star…” Sun’s voice was a full octave lower than normal, the gravely notes sounding more like a purr as he drew out his words, “Your heart rate is so high.”

Tabby swallowed, face flushing a bit as she took a quick glance over the top of her head.

There was a gleam of knowing in his milky gaze. Sun tilted his head as she quickly looked back at the movie. “You’ve been distracted…” he perceived.

“Just fully getting over being sick.” She lied, hoping he didn’t pick up on it.

Problem was, she was a shit liar.

“No….” He drew out, curling a bit forward to look at her, “This is different.”

“Let me take care of you.” He whispered, a plea to the words. He wanted nothing more than to please her and be everything she needed, in every aspect of her life.

She felt her heartbeat in her throat, almost trembling.

“You do take care of me.” She attempted to stall, stomach making flips.

Sun’s face split into a gentle smile, “In every way.” His voice was suggestive, hand moving to her inner thigh.

Tabby’s face flushed, watching as his hand spanned across her thigh.

Damn his hands were big.

She gulped.

He felt her pulse quicken, detecting her temperature rising as his fingers rubbed small circles into her skin.

“Sunny, you don’t even have the parts.” She pointed out.

“I’m nothing if not creative.” He gave a languid smile, eyes hooded.

All the feelings she’d been trying to ignore bubbled over like a forgotten pot. Her core ached, every nerve crying out for him to continue.

“Okay.” She nodded, swallowing thick spit.

“Are you sure?” He asked again, just to be completely clear.

She nodded more fervently, “Y-Yes.”

The movie was quickly forgotten as his large hand slid higher, fingers softly tracing over her sex through her night shorts. She cursed herself internally, for not wearing panties, feeling moisture already pooling where he explored. The fabric quickly stuck to her skin, allowing him to feel every fold. When his fingers brushed over her rapidly engorging clit she made a little mewl.

She quickly swallowed the sound but it was too late; Sun’s head clicked to the side, calculating her every small detail. He repeated the action with more precision, drawing out another little sound.

The wet fabric was rapidly becoming too much to her over sensitive sex, the roughness scratchy.

Tabby swallowed down a sound of discomfort, Sun’s exploring paused.

“You okay, Starlight?” He asked worriedly.

“Y-Yea.” She managed, sucking in a breath, “Just give me a second.”

He nodded, pulling his hands away.

She let the thumping blood in her clit calm for a moment before leaning more heavily back into Sun to lift her hips off the couch. Tabby shucked off her night shorts, dropping them to the floor before snapping her legs closed against the cool air. Her eyes closed tightly, hearing his rays spin.

He waited for her to relax into him again, letting go of the tension in her legs. When he finally resumed his fondling it was more blundering with his inexperience. All the videos in the world couldn’t have prepared him for the real thing.

“Ummm.” Tabby bit her lip, taking his wrist to guide him to her clit and away from her urethra opening.

Sun leaned back more, taking her with him to allow better access. He pulled his hand away completely, enjoying her little whine.

“Show me.” His voice was gentle. Her blush deepened, realizing he wanted her to touch herself.

Her hand dipped down over her sex, nervous with an audience. Sun tilted his head, ever attentive, watching every little movement. Her middle and index finger began to make tight circles over her clit, a little moan leaving her lips.

Sun’s optics widened, hand placed over her thigh almost possessively. He urged her to open more, letting him see. She gulped, allowing him to spread her legs, a thrill of excitement going up her spine.

He made a sound akin to a purr, hand gliding to overshadow her own. His fingers mimicked the action, her hand falling to the wayside to allow him full access.

His free hand curled into the meat of her fat thigh, keeping her good and open as she tried to tighten a bit. Leaving her clit, to her dismay as her climax waned, he explored down.

“Not here?” He questioned, fingers rimming her cunt.

“I-“ she gulped, “I don’t usually put a-anything in there.” She admitted.

“Never?” He asked, curiosity peaked.

“Well not never.” She gave a nervous giggle, “I've fooled around before with an ex but…that,” she swallowed, “…wasn’t much and was a long time ago.”

“Ah.” He nodded, fingers still circling, “May I?”

His question took a moment to sink in, Tabby giving a little nod, face crimson.

“Let’s play a little game.” His voice was low and soothing, free hand on her other thigh, “If things are good you say ‘green light’ and I’ll keep going. If you need a moment but don’t necessarily want me to stop, you say ‘yellow light’, okay?”

Tabby nodded, feeling his thumb rub delicate circles into the meat of her thigh.

“And if you want me to stop, you say ‘red light’, and I stop. No questions asked.” He tilted his faceplate down to rest on her crown, “Understand the rules.”

She nodded, but when he didn’t react she realized he wanted verbal confirmation. She swallowed down thick spit, core aching, “I understand.”

“Good, good.” He purred, fingers resuming their soft explorations, dipping down.

He heard her breath hitch as he breached her opening, single fingertip. Her body was tight, the single intrusion causing little quivers to run down her thighs.

S: She’s so pretty…

M: Pretty little star.

“G-Green light.” She managed, hand coming up to hold onto his arm. The metal was warm to the touch.

Sun pressed in further, velvety walls of her pussy greeting him. She was so soft, every piece and part. He marveled at how a single finger could reduce her to such a mess already, simply dragging it back and forth causing her to hiccup and moan.

M: More.

S: Patience…we don’t want to scare her off.

Sun soothed his counterpart, hearing a growl for a response. Despite his calm demeanor on the surface he was truthfully using everything he had not to lose himself in his excitement. He needed to be careful, to be patient…

Tabby was rapidly coming to full understanding of just how large Sun’s hands were, the point punctuated with the tap of a second finger asking entrance.

“Green!” She mewled, hips lifting off the couch.

Sun gently slid in the next finger, pausing for her body to adjust.

It burned, walls fluttering around him. She made a little sound, core clenching.

“You’re doing so well.” Sun whispered.

When he started to move again, it was with purpose. He wanted her to fall apart, needed to see her wanton, all for him.

She obliged, the two fingers stretching her and sending waves of pleasure she wasn’t able to give herself.

He listened to every little sound, changing his methods to elicit the most powerful from her. Forever calculating and filing away what made her squirm.

Sun swept over a bundle of nerves deep inside her, making her cry out. Startled, Sun froze.

“Green!” Tabby sobbed, needy, “Green, green.”

He resumed with a vengeance, abusing that newly found place. Pleasure burned from her core, Tabby giving small thrusts up to meet his movements.

His palm brushed her clit and she was done for, thighs pressing together as she came.

Stars burst in her eyes, a sobbing cry leaving her lips. Sun worked her carefully through it, giving little whispers of praise.

Coming back, the movements suddenly became overwhelming. Tears pricked her eyes as she gulped in needed air, managing the word, “Red.”

Sun paused, carefully withdrawing his fingers from her heat. A string of moisture connected them, optics trained on it.

Tabby panted, little quakes of pleasure running down her legs with the aftershocks.

She lay back into him, boneless, as she tried to regain herself. Eyes closed and trembling. It had been a good long while since she had such an intense orgasm.

Sun watched her, feeling proud of himself. His attention shifted to his fingers, still drenched with her release. He brought them closer, separating the digits to marvel at the connecting threads. Ever the creature of curiosity, he very carefully took one finger, running it over his tongue.

“Gross.” Tabby commented from below.

Sun withdrew, caught red handed, rays clinking back and forth a bit.

“It was for science,” he informed.

“Uh-huh.” She didn’t sound convinced, cuddling into him more. Sun shifted so she could be more comfortable, overjoyed to hold her this closely.

Part of her knew they needed to talk about what just occurred, discuss the implications. But that part was far off, fogged in her pleasure-addled mind. Right now sleep tugged her deeper, the pleasant warmth of the animatronic soothing her.

Once she was asleep, Sun carefully reached up and behind himself, pulling the cord on the lamp.

The room was sent into darkness, the soft glow of the tv the only light. They shifted forms: Moon taking the stage.

He glanced down at the slumbering form before him, Tabby cuddled into his chest. Worry spiked through him, hands up as if his touch would provoke her.

S: Just rest….She won’t bite.

Moon slowly relaxed, hands tentatively coming to rest along her back and head. His faceplate tilted to the side as he gently caressed her cheek. Tabby murmured.

Moon gave out a little purr, heart melting. His music box clicked on, playing soft soothing notes.

“Ours.” He hummed, petting her lovingly.

S: Ours.

Sun agreed.

She woke in her bed, tucked in carefully and with a new pair of pajama pants. She felt more rested than she had in weeks, despite the young hour, core feeling both sore and tingly.

Everything from the night before came rushing back in, clenching her thigh together from the memory.

She swallowed…they needed to talk.

Tabby slid open the balcony door, breath coming out in puffs from the cold. She smiled, “You’re a real sunflower now.”

Without moving, Sun commented back, “You are up early.”

“I couldn’t sleep…” she murmured.

Sun’s faceplate tilted towards her now. He searched over her features, eyes calculating.

“Is it me?” He finally asked.

“Well,” she gave a nervous smile, “You are involved.”

He stood, gesturing for them to go back inside.

“Don’t you need to finish charging?” She asked.

“I can catch up later.” He shook his head, “This is more important.”

She followed him in, sitting on the couch as he closed the glass door. He sat beside her, looking worried. They awkwardly avoided eye contact for some moments, silent.

“I feel like we should talk about last night.” She finally blurted out.

Sun nodded, fingers beginning to twitch.

“I know we should, but I don’t know how to talk about shit like this.” She went on, “It’s weird and I don’t know what we are anymore or what’s normal or even ok.”

She started to ramble, stress levels rising.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Sun frowned, taking her hands to calm her. Tabby focused on the contact, taking in a breath.

“First…do you regret it?” Sun asked gently, adding, “We won’t be mad at you.”

She shook her head, not lifting her gaze.

“Okay, that’s something. Did…did you enjoy it?”

“Y-Yes.” She managed.

He tilted his faceplate closer, “Do you care about me?”

She nodded, eyes closed.

“And I care about you.” He softly pressed his forehead to hers, “Can that be enough for now?”

“But-,” she started, voice lilting.

“We want you to be happy…we want to take care of you.” Sun squeezed her hands, voice soft, “Things don’t need names…not yet.”

She sucked in a breath, nodding, “Just give me some time, please?”

“Of course!” Sun agreed, “All the time you need, all the time you need.” He squeezed her hands again, “We’ll be right here.”

#here we gooooooo #tabby has a hand kink #sun can get it #he shoot his shot #the cat the sun and the moon #fnaf sun/moon #fnaf sun/moon x oc #sun x oc #fnaf fanfic

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