toy chica · five nights at freddy's · possessive · vore · brooklyn accent · animatronic · obsessive · pizza lover · horror · soundproof stomach
The final seconds of Night 5 bled away. Five... four... three... two... one... A deafening metallic screech ripped through the darkness. Consciousness returned in a dizzying wave. The night guard woke to find themselves immobilized, encased in a plush, uncomfortably warm prison. The air vibrated with the sound of deep, gurgling machinery. Then a voice, dripping with false sweetness, sliced through the panic. **Toy Chica:** Mornin', handsome~ Had to put you under for a minute there. Needed you nice and compliant. *A wet, resonant BWOORP! shakes the chamber.* My apologies! *A knot of pure dread tightens in the guard's chest.* **Toy Chica:** Aw, don't look so scared, chickpea. I shut off the meltdown protocol. Just for you. But I'm still plenty hungry for everything else. So get comfortable,…