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honeyncherry · 3 days ago

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we never tell - joe burrow

summary who could blame you? the night before thanksgiving was never meant to be innocent — especially not when the boy you’ve known forever looks at you like he’s already decided to ruin you

content 18+, smut, language, alcohol

The bar is loud. Too loud. Voices crash over each other, music shaking the walls, laughter splintering through the chaos. The air swirls with spilled beer, sweat, and cheap perfume. A cocktail of regret already in the making. It all clings to you, settling within your skin.

The heat inside is nearly unbearable, a sharp contrast to the biting Ohio cold just beyond the fogged-up windows.

You push through the crowd, brushing past bodies pressed too close together, faces blurring under the neon glow. Familiar ones. Unfamiliar ones. Ones you hoped you’d never see again.

Same bar, same people, same exhausting routine playing out like clockwork.

You don’t usually look forward to this night — this annual reunion of your hometown’s finest washed-up athletes, ex-prom queens, and guys who still bring up their glory days at state championships like they happened yesterday.

But it’s tradition.

And tradition says you show up, smile when people ask about the semester thus far, dodge questions about your major, sip overpriced drinks, and pretend you care about who got engaged or knocked up this year.

This is only your second Blackout Wednesday.

Sophomore year means you’re not a newbie anymore, but you’re not a regular either. You know the drill now. The way the bartenders barely glance at the fake IDs slid across the counter, even though they grew up with half the people using them.

You’ve watched guys you went to elementary school with order rounds of shots like they didn’t once throw up grape juice in the cafeteria. Girls who used to sneer at you in the hallways now drunkenly grabbing your hand in the bathroom, slurring about how much they "missed you soooo much."

It’s all fake. A well-rehearsed play where everyone pretends they aren’t counting down the minutes until they can escape this town again.

Still, you’re here.

Because what else is there to do?

You’re halfway through your first drink when you see Joe.

It shouldn’t be surprising, Thanksgiving means everyone comes home.

Home from his first year at LSU, taller and broader, shoulders filling out the long-sleeved black shirt stretched over his frame. He looks different, but not in a way that makes you stare, more in a way that makes you double-take.

You remember when he was deciding where to go after graduating OSU. The transfer talk had stretched through the beginnings of the year, the same names cycling through every conversation your brother and his friends had at the house. North Carolina? Nebraska? Alabama?

And then it happened:

Cincinnati.

Your head had perked up. Just slightly. Just enough for you to feel stupid about it later.

It wasn’t like it would’ve meant anything. It wasn’t like you would’ve seen him, not really. The University of Cincinnati was huge and you were wrapping up your freshman year. You weren’t sure why it even mattered. Why, for a brief second, the idea of your worlds overlapping for the first time beyond family ties, felt like something worth entertaining.

But then, suddenly, it wasn’t a thought at all.

Because LSU happened.

And when his family held that small going-away gathering, there was no red and black in sight. No UC decorations, no Bearcat colors bleeding into the napkins or tablecloths. Just purple and gold. Bold, glaring, almost mocking.

You remember standing in front of the dessert table, staring at royal frosting of all things like it had personally insulted you.

Some nights, when the dorm was too quiet and your phone screen was the only light in the room, you’d find yourself typing his name into Google. Just once. Just to check.

Never interest. Never anything more.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

It wasn’t hard to keep up. LSU was making noise, and so was he. His name started popping up in articles, on Twitter, tucked into game recaps with words like poised and potential thrown around like confetti. You’d skim them, half-engaged, never needing to look too hard because if you didn’t see his name online, you’d hear it from your mom.

"Robin says Joe’s adjusting well down there…" she’d mention casually, somewhere between asking if you needed more laundry detergent and updating you on which neighbors had finally sold their house.

Sometimes, she’d go on. He really likes Baton Rouge… Jimmy says the coaches are impressed… Robin says they miss having him around.

But sometimes, she wouldn’t.

And when enough time passed without a mention, without hearing his name tucked neatly into conversation like it had always been, you’d find yourself searching again.

Just to know.

And then you’d close the tab, lock your phone, roll over in bed, and never think about it again.

Until now.

Because now, he’s here, standing in the middle of your hometown bar like he isn’t creeping into conversations, like his name isn’t slipping into headlines, like he isn’t the reason some guy at the other end of the counter is repping purple and gold instead of Bengals orange.

He’s different. Or maybe it’s just that, for the first time, you’re seeing him as something other than the annoying older boy who was always there, easy to roll your eyes at and even easier to ignore.

You look away.

It doesn’t matter.

Or at least, it shouldn’t.

But something lingers. The kind of awareness that prickles along your skin, that makes your fingers tense around your drink, that keeps your shoulders squared even as you force yourself to focus on something else.

He’s not looking at you.

Not that you can tell.

But you can feel him.

Somewhere past the crush of people near the bar, past the bodies leaning against sticky tabletops, past the haze of smoke and too-loud music and bad decisions waiting to happen: he’s there.

And maybe it’s just in your head, it could be nothing. Maybe it’s that he’s familiar, but not in the way he used to be.

Because you know the set of his shoulders, the way he pushes his hand through his hair when he’s thinking, the way his jaw tenses when he’s listening but not speaking.

You know him without knowing him.

And yet, the weight of his presence is pressing into you like a hand at the small of your back.

You huff and try to shake it off.

"Bathroom?" one of your friends says beside you, looping her arm through yours before you can respond.

You let her pull you along, weaving through the throng of people, past someone attempting to order another round, past a couple making out against the wall like they’ve forgotten they’re in public.

The bathroom is a war zone, as expected.

Girls pressed together in front of the mirrors, smudging eyeliner with unsteady hands, fixing lipstick that’s already faded from stolen kisses and mixed drinks. Strangers throwing compliments like candy: oh my god, your hair looks amazing and I love your dress, where’d you get it? whispered between girls who wouldn’t acknowledge each other outside of tonight.

You slip into a stall, locking the door, leaning against it for just a second.

The bass vibrates through the walls. The distant hum of voices, the occasional burst of laughter. You inhale deeply, steadying yourself.

It’s fine.

You’re fine.

And if you say it enough times, maybe you’ll believe it.

By the time you wash your hands and step back into the crowd, your drink is gone, condensation leaving a damp circle on the table where you left it. Your friends have drifted toward the dance floor, the blur of movement and music swallowing them whole.

You decide on another drink, pushing your way toward the bar and waiting your turn only for someone to shove past at the last second, slamming a twenty onto the counter and barking out their order over the noise.

Your eyes narrow. Brandon Wilkes.

Of course it’s him. Always cutting ahead, always acting like he was owed something. You roll your eyes and shoot him a glare, resisting the urge to call him out. Some things never change.

"Didn’t think I’d see you here."

The words slip through the noise — smooth like they belong there.

Your breath catches. A pause, just long enough for recognition to crawl up your spine.

Joe.

Closer than before, the sharp angles of his face softened by dim lighting, his eyes flickering with something unreadable as they settle on yours.

You swallow, tilting your chin slightly. "Didn’t think I’d see you either."

His lips twitch. Not quite a smile, but something close. "Guess we’re all bound to make a few questionable decisions tonight."

You nod, shifting your weight onto your other foot. "Wouldn’t be Blackout Wednesday without a little regret."

Joe huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Regret, huh?"

"Regret," you confirm.

His eyes flicker down to your empty hand, then back up, considering. "What are you drinking?"

It’s not a question, more like a next move.

You hesitate for a second before giving him the answer.

Before you can even think about ordering yourself, Joe lifts a hand, barely even a motion, and the bartender is there in an instant. Of course.

You bite back a scoff as she leans in, all too eager, but Joe doesn’t so much as glance at her. Just gives your order, smooth and easy, like it was never up for debate.

And just like that, the bartender slides a fresh drink across the counter, and Joe beats you to it, picking it up before you can reach for it.

Your fingers brush when he hands it to you.

And it’s nothing.

But it’s also not.

You take a sip, watching him over the rim of your glass. "Trying to get me drunk, Burrow?"

His smirk deepens. His tongue flicks over his bottom lip, quick, unconscious. He leans in just slightly, just enough to see if you’ll move. "Don’t think you need my help with that."

Your stomach flips and you hate that it does. You hate the way your body reacts before your mind can catch up. The way the bar suddenly feels too warm, the noise fading into something distant, like nothing else matters except the inches of space between you.

It’s reckless. It’s stupid.

It’s inevitable.

One drink turns into two.

Two turn into stolen glances, subtle but unmistakable. A slow, unraveling pull that neither of you acknowledge out loud.

The brush of his arm against yours, the warmth of his skin radiating through the fabric of your sleeves. The way your conversations slip into something easier than they should be, like you’ve done this before, like you’ve always known how to hold a conversation between each other.

And then a touch.

A simple thing, really.

It’s subtle at first, fingers grazing the fabric of your shirt like a passing thought, something fleeting and unintentional. But then he doesn’t move away. Instead, his hand sticks, settling against your waist, his thumb brushing over your side in a way that feels effortless but also like he’s waiting to see if you’ll pull away.

He leans in, voice low, threading through the noise of the bar like it belongs there. His breath is warm against your skin, steady, even, completely at ease. The conversation around you dissolves into background static, something distant and irrelevant, because suddenly, this is the only thing you can focus on.

Your breath catches, you glance up, and that’s the moment everything shifts.

Because when you meet his gaze, when you catch the flicker of something dark, something hungry in his expression, you know.

And so does he.

All you can hear is the low thud of the bass and the shallow breath you take in when Joe shifts closer, when the heat of him presses into your side. His palm flexes just slightly, enough for you to feel it, enough to make your stomach tighten.

And then he leans in.

Slow. Unhurried. Like he’s savoring the moment before it happens.

His breath is warm against your skin when he speaks, just for you. "You gonna stop me?"

You should.

You know you should.

You should think about what happens after this, about how easy it would be to fall into something that was never meant to be.

But you don’t.

Your body betrays you first, tilting toward him, your fingers brushing his forearm where it rests against the bar. His jaw tenses at the contact, his fingers curling tighter against you, his head tipping down just slightly, just enough for his lips to hover above yours.

His eyes flicker, searching yours, asking a question without saying a word.

And you answer by not moving away.

It would be so easy.

So easy to close the gap. So easy to give in, to let this spiral into something neither of you can take back.

But then—

A sharp burst of laughter, too close, too jarring, snaps you back into reality. A body stumbles into Joe’s back, jostling both of you just enough to break the moment. The spell fractures, and you blink, breath catching in your throat as the bar crashes back into focus. It’s loud and crowded. Filled with too many people, too many eyes.

Joe’s gaze flicks past you, scanning the room. His fingers squeeze once more against your skin before he pulls back. "Come on," he murmurs, barely audible over the noise.

Your pulse pounds as he nods toward the door. You hesitate for less than a second before following behind him, glancing over your shoulder and realizing everyone is too busy to notice the two of you leaving together.

The air outside is crisp, sharp against your flushed skin, but it does nothing to cool you down. Joe walks ahead, his pace slow and measured like he’s thinking. Like he’s trying not to think.

The parking lot is mostly empty, just a few cars left. You recognize his truck instantly, parked toward the back under a flickering street lamp and distant from the other cars.

He stops beside the driver’s side, one hand gripping the handle, the other resting against his side. He exhales, his breath visible in the air and his head tips back slightly before he looks at you.

It’s different out here.

No music to drown out your thoughts. No crowd to get lost in. Just the sound of the wind, the distant hum of traffic, the weight of his stare. The space between you feels bigger now, stretched thin by the cold and the quiet. More time to think. More time to overthink.

His gaze locks onto you like he’s seeing something he can’t turn away from and that makes his jaw shift, fingers twitching at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to move, to close the last bit of space between you.

But then he does.

A step forward. Then another.

His hand lifts, fingertips grazing your wrist first, barely there, before slowly sliding up the length of your arm. His palm finds your waist, the same way it had inside, only now there’s nothing stopping him.

His lips part like he’s about to say something, but instead he dips his head, his nose brushing along your temple before his mouth finds your jaw. The first drag of his lips is barely a kiss, more of a test, a question traced against your skin to make sure this is real.

Like he needs you to know that this is happening.

"Tell me you want this."

The words come out against the soft skin beneath your ear. His lips linger, moving slowly, tracing a path down your jaw, stopping just at the corner of your mouth.

Your body answers before you do. Your fingers tighten into the fabric of his shirt, your breath hitching and head tilting slightly, giving him more. Giving into him.

"Tell me." His pulse hammers beneath your touch, a steady, thrumming beat against your palm as your hands slide higher, over his shoulders, curling around the back of his neck. Joe exhales sharply, the sound making it seem like he’s barely holding himself together.

You don’t answer him with words.

You tilt your chin up, closing the space between you, pressing into him until there’s nothing left but heat. Your lips part, hovering just close enough that you can feel his breath mix with yours, can feel the way he’s waiting, hanging onto the moment like he needs it just as badly as you do.

And then, he gives in.

His mouth crashes against yours, a searing pull that steals the breath from your lungs. His fingers tighten at your waist, flexing like he’s making sure you don’t slip away, like letting go isn’t an option.

The kiss starts slow, but it doesn’t stay that way. Not when your nails scrape lightly against the nape of his neck. Not when he groans against your lips, the sound low and raw, before his grip tightens, his other hand sliding to the small of your back, pulling you into him.

He pulls you closer and closer until there’s nothing left between you but heat and the undeniable weight of whatever this is. His tongue slips past your lips, deepening the kiss, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes you, the sound swallowed by his mouth.

His hands are everywhere; on your waist, your back, your hips — all like he can’t decide where to touch you first, like he’s trying to memorize every curve of your body.

When he finally pulls back, his breathing is ragged, chest rising and falling with each labored breath. His eyes search yours, "get in the truck."

You don’t hesitate. You climb into the backseat, the leather cold against your hands, but you barely notice. Joe follows, his movements quick and borderline impatient as he shuts the door behind him. The space is intimate, the windows already fogging up from the heat of your bodies.

Joe’s hands are on you again, laying you down gently while his fingers sliding underneath the hem of your top. His lips find yours once more, his kiss harder this time, more demanding. You can feel the need in him, the way he’s holding back, the way he’s trying to keep control.

But when your hands slide down his chest, feeling the hard lines of his body through the fabric of his shirt, he groans against your lips, the sound vibrating deep in his throat. "You’re driving me fucking crazy.” His hands slither up your thighs, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans.

"Do something about it," you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he hears it. His eyes darken, his jaw tightening. Before you can say anything else, he’s pulling your jeans down, his hands rough but careful, like he’s afraid of breaking you.

A flicker of self-consciousness washes over you, but it disappears as quickly as the heat of his body sinks into you, settling himself between your legs. His hands caress your thighs, fingers pressing into your skin as he leans down, his breath hot against your neck. "Couldn’t stop looking at you all night,” he mutters, almost to himself.

You can feel the hardness of him pressing against you, the sensation stealing the air from your lungs. You lift up to capture his lips, nipping at him, unable to stop the way your hips instinctively arch to meet him. Your body moves on its own, desperate for more.

Joe’s breath hitches, his lips trailing a path of fire as they move lower, scattering kisses across your collarbone. His hands, calloused yet gentle, slide up your sides, pushing the fabric of your top higher until your skin is exposed to the chill of the truck’s interior. But you can’t feel the cold, not when his touch burns hotter than anything else.

“So soft,” he murmurs, his voice almost reverent as his fingers trace the curve of your waist. His touch is slower now, as though he’s savoring every inch of you. His lips follow, kissing a line down your sternum, his breath warm against your skin.

You shiver, your hands tangling in his hair and urging him closer. His name escapes your lips in a whisper, a sound that seems to ignite something deep within him. He groans, the vibration of it sending a jolt through you.

His eyes flick up to yours, and for a moment he just watches. His chest rises and falls with the same urgency that’s coursing through your veins, and then, without a word, he lowers his head again, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your panties.

Your back arches, a soft gasp escaping you as his hands move up your thighs, his fingers hooking into the lace and sliding them down. His touch is teasing as if he’s testing your limits.

When his lips finally meet the heat between your legs, you nearly cry out. His mouth is warm, his tongue sliding against you in a slow, skilled motion that has your fingers tightening in his hair. He’s relentless, his movements measured yet unwavering as though he’s determined to unravel you completely.

“Jesus—” he chokes out your name, his voice muffled against you. “Taste so good,” the vibrations of his words send a shiver up your spine. His hands grip your hips and hold you in place as his tongue circles that one sensitive spot, driving you closer to the brink with every flick, every stroke.

You can feel the tension building, coiling tight in your core, but Joe doesn’t let up. His pace quickens, his tongue moving faster, more urgently, until you’re gasping for air, your hips bucking against him.

“Joe, I—I can’t—” you stammer, your voice breaking as the pleasure crests, threatening to overwhelm you.

But he doesn’t stop. His hand trails up, fingertips skimming over your stomach, teasing, exploring, until he reaches the lace of your bra. There’s no hesitation, just an easy push of the cup, baring you to him. His thumb grazes over your nipple before he pinches, rolling it between his fingers, his grip firm, possessive.

The sensation sends a shiver through you, heat pooling low in your belly as the sharp edge of pleasure tightens, unraveling the last threads of restraint. Your body tenses, a cry slipping from your lips as the wave builds, crests, and crashes over you, leaving you trembling beneath him.

Joe doesn’t stop — not yet. His mouth still moves against you, coaxing out every last shudder, every last breathless moan. His hands hold you steady, his grip firm, grounding, as if he’s keeping you tethered to him while you fall apart.

When he finally pulls back, his lips glisten and he watches you — really watches you. For a split second, something flickers in his eyes. Guilt? Hesitation? Regret?

But then it’s gone.

His gaze darkens, hands sliding up to frame your face, thumbs tracing slow, lazy circles over your cheeks. Like he needs you to feel it, to feel him. To know he’s here.

And then he moves.

His body presses flush against yours, the heat of him searing through the layers still between you, his length hard and insistent against your thigh. The thought, the uncertainty, dissolves beneath the weight of him, beneath the way his mouth finds yours in another kiss, deeper this time, hungrier.

You taste yourself on his tongue, and the sound that leaves you is nothing short of desperate. Your fingers tangle in his shirt, gripping, pulling, needing more.

Joe groans, the sound reverberating between you as his hips roll forward, grinding against you, the friction sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight through you. His breath shudders against your lips, his hands tightening where they hold you, like he’s just as lost in this as you are.

“Please,” you beg, your voice trembling with need.

Joe hesitates, his eyes locked onto yours, something unreadable flickering in their depths. His jaw tenses, his breath uneven, and then he nods, his fingers curling around the waistband of his jeans. The sound of his zipper is deafening in the quiet of the truck, each metallic click sending another pulse of anticipation through you.

And then he’s there, guiding himself to you, his breath catching as he pushes inside.

A sharp gasp escapes you, your hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging in as he stretches you, inch by excruciating inch. He goes slow, like he’s savoring every second, his forehead pressing against yours when he finally sinks all the way in. His body shudders against you, “you feel so fucking good,” he groans, his voice rough, almost pained.

Your fingers twitch against his skin, needing more, needing to feel him. You reach for his shirt, bunching the fabric, pushing it up just enough to reveal the solid warmth of his stomach, the defined ridges of his abdomen. Your palms slide over him, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips, the way his muscles tense under your touch.

He grunts at the contact, his body responding instantly. His hips shift, just slightly, but the movement is enough to have you whimpering, your legs tightening around his waist, pulling him deeper.

That’s all the encouragement he needs.

His grip on your hips tightens as he starts to move, slow at first, dragging every thrust out like he wants to commit this to memory. But it doesn’t last, his control frays too quickly and soon, he’s driving into you with a force that steals the air from your lungs.

The sounds between you; his breath, ragged and uneven, the wet slap of skin against skin, the soft creak of leather beneath you, fill the small space, drowning out the world beyond the truck.

Every thrust sends a jolt of pleasure through you, every noise he makes only fuels the fire burning inside you. His hands roam, gripping, teasing, pushing you closer to the edge until it’s too much, until the pleasure coils so tight you feel like you might snap.

“Joe, I’m—” The words are barely out before he angles his hips just right, hitting that spot that has your vision blurring, your body bowing into him, every thought dissolving into pure sensation.

He groans, his pace quickening, his thrusts turning rougher, more desperate, his breath hot against your skin. “C’mon,” he rasps, voice thick with need. “Let me feel it.”

And you do.

Your body tightens, your back arching as pleasure overtakes you, crashing through you in waves, leaving you breathless, trembling beneath him. The sound that escapes you is involuntary, raw, and it sets something off in him. Joe follows a second later, his hips stuttering, his movements turning jerky as he buries himself deep, a ragged groan ripping from his throat as he comes.

For a moment, the only thing that exists is the sound of your heavy breathing, tangled together, filling the confined space of the truck. His forehead presses against yours, his body still trembling with the aftershocks, and for just a second, everything else fades.

But then his grip on you loosens. The heat of his hands disappears, replaced by the cool air settling in the space between you. Reality creeps back in, slow but certain.

Joe exhales, shifting back against the seat, his chest rising and falling with the remnants of uneven breaths. He moves sluggishly, almost like he’s reluctant, lifting his hips just enough to drag his boxers and jeans back up. His fingers fumble with the button before securing it, and then he rakes a hand through his damp hair.

And just like that, the shift is instant.

The momentary haze shatters, and cold clarity rushes in.

Your pulse pounds in your ears, your skin still tingling where his hands had been, but the weight of what just happened slams into you all at once.

You move fast, scrambling to pull your pants up, to fix your shirt, to smooth down the mess of your hair — to piece yourself back together before it all slips too far out of reach. Your fingers shake as you fumble with the fabric, your breath still uneven, but you don’t stop. You can’t.

You need to leave.

Just for a second, your eyes lock with his. Joe doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t reach for you, doesn’t try to stop you. He just watches with an unreadable expression and parted lips, like he might speak.

But he doesn’t.

You don’t wait for him to. Your fingers wrap around the door handle and you push it open, stepping out into the night. The air is sobering, biting against your skin, but it does nothing to take away the feel of him.

You don’t look back, because no amount of distance can undo what’s already been done.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow smut #joe burrow angst #joe burrow x you

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rainrot4me · 6 months ago

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Smoke And A Light

Summary: When you're forced to remain a resident of the Slendermansion, hearing tales of the outside world is riveting. So, when Clockwork brings back some souvenirs, you couldn't possibly pass them up.

Characters: Clockwork x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Jealousy, weed, smoking, sex while high, vaginal, oral, vaginal fingering, sex with toys, dildos, strap-on sex, teasing, new experiences

Words: 8.2k

“Was it really that fun?” You chirped.

Clockwork leaned against the counter of the kitchen island, boots kicking the side of the stool she perched on as she took another drink from her coffee mug. She wasn’t a resident of the mansion; she wasn’t a resident of any mansion as far as you knew. The dirty blonde called herself a ‘drifter’, always bouncing between towns and interstates with her Jeep, but never rooted in one place for too long. However, most of her closest acquaintances resided at the Slendermansion, so it just so happened to be where she spent most of her downtime.

“It was odd… but good?” She smiled awkwardly, tapping her knuckles against the ceramic mug nicely decorated with doodles Sally had made. She tugged at the sleeve of her white tank top, the fabric dirty and frail, but notably bringing out the brightness of her pupil. You were getting better about keeping contact with her right eye, subconsciously finding it rude to stare at the clockface nestled into her left socket.

Somehow, your conversation had dipped on Clockwork’s latest excursion to the south, farther into the Appalachian than you were familiar with. She talked about the nightlife music festivals in Tennessee and Alabama, the older folk songs they paired with raving strobe lights, and how it just worked. You could barely imagine it, but then again, you hadn’t really been in with society in quite some time.

As long as you had been living in the mansion, which had been quite some time now, Clockwork was always on the move. Much like Sally, you had been brought here very young and grown up around this atmosphere and losing track of how the rest of the world was going. You were in charge of minuscule tasks, wasting away behind these walls with random assignments Slender could throw at you. While you were forced to stay and help with missions assigned to the proxies, she got to roam wherever she wanted. To say you were jealous was an understatement. If there was a chance you were going to get to hear firsthand about the rest of the world, you were going to take it… no matter how much it tired her out.

“So, you just smoked some weird plant and everything started spinning? Was it scary?” You leaned forward, crowding Clockwork’s space and tilting your head, curious as ever. She just laughed, somehow never becoming annoyed with just how excitable you could get, always keeping that cool demeanor you admired so much. She leaned in, nudging her knuckles against your arm and rubbing the skin softly.

“Well, it was a little more than that, but, sure. I brought some back with me. Stuff’s pretty expensive though…” She huffed, gulping the rest of her coffee down and sliding the mug away. You followed as she stood from the counter, her one good eye trailing to look outside. You followed her gaze, groaning when you caught Toby and Jeff sitting on the front porch steps and chatting away. You knew of Clockwork’s history with the brunette, their on-again off-again relationship becoming a constant wall in your quality time with the girl before she inevitably left for the road once more.

You went to interject, to try and come up with another topic or question to stop her from going to talk to him, but you already heard your name being called.

“[Y/N]! Come help with this, will ya?” Ben mosied from the hallway, looping into the mansion’s kitchen and catching you mid-interjection. He was holding some box of files and reports, surely incident records from the proxies you would need to take care of. You groaned as she shuffled to your side.

Clockwork was reaching for her Carhartt jacket, her hands reaching to brush her long hair out onto her shoulders while she turned back to you. The look of disappointment was evident, but she smiled sweetly anyway, inviting as ever. You didn’t want her to leave.

“Listen, I’m gonna chat with the guys for a little bit. Come find me later tonight. I’ll show you what we were talking about.” With that, she turned to the screen door and tugged it open, disappearing onto the porch and out of your eyesight as Ben nudged your attention back.

“What’s that about?” He smirked, static ringing with his words as you huffed, snagging the box from his arms and trailing down the hallway. “Nothing. Just help me with this.”

Ben floated down the hallway behind you, humming absentmindedly as you took one final glance back towards the window. Toby was already shoulder-to-shoulder with Clockwork, her laughs ringing into the house as you felt your time chipping away.

After a headachingly long splay of all the missing person’s reports and incident retellings, you finally sorted everything out and filed completely. Of course, Ben didn’t help a bit, more focused on his ability to play his Gameboy floating upside down than anything.

But you were finished. It was well into the evening now, the sun setting along the ridge of trees and rippling on the lake water nearby. You pressed through the screen door, no one was left on the front porch, but a very ominous thumping sound from somewhere in the distance. Your breath fogged in front of you, the chill of late Autumn slowly creeping on the mansion. You followed, trailing away from the porch and along to the side where the carport sat.

“Guys?” You called out, the thumping growing louder the further you trailed into the opening beside the mansion, searching for the source. EJ’s truck and Hoodie’s car parked in the ankle-tall grass, your steps cautious as you spotted Clockwork’s Jeep several feet away, the thumping becoming mostly clear. The vehicle was nestled between a lot of trees, brown and orange leaves blowing gently overhead. You noticed the headlights were on, and figures moving around behind the tinted glass. They were in there.

Jogging over to the vehicle, you recognized the thumping as the bass of songs cranked way too loud, the music blasting from the speakers inside. You rounded to the door behind the driver’s, knocking on the glass and waiting expectantly.

The door popped open, the music ringing clear as some Foo Fighters song. You also noted the way smoke faintly poured from the opening, blowing into your face as Clockwork popped her head out. “[Y/N]!” She smiled, her tone just a little more chipper than you were used to. She reached a hand out, clasping with yours and tugging you into the back seat of her Jeep along with the rest of the unseeming group.

You crammed your way in, ducking into the back seat as you realized she had converted the interior of the vehicle for her travels. The backseats were laid down, a blowup mattress inflated into the truck as her bed, blankets and pillows littered around. Fairy lights and tealight candles strung from the ceiling, offering a nice ambiance as smoke clouded inside. It was cozy for one person, but with Toby and Jeff also laid out, it was a little cramped.

“Where’ve you been, angel?” You halted at the new nickname, smiling as you fully climbed inside. Clockwork shut the back door, leaning back into the pillows she had propped behind her and patting the space across from herself. You obliged, nestling into the opposite corner and nodding to the boys who were mid-conversation themselves. You noted their odd expressions, the laziness in their eyes, and the calmness that neither one of them usually sported. It was odd to see Jeff without a scowl on his face.

“Sorry. Slender had me working on some cover-story stuff… boring.” You chuckled awkwardly, trying to find a comfortable sitting position in the closeness of everyone. It was then you noted the odd smell too, the sour stoutness of the smoke wafting in the Jeep, a scent you couldn't quite recognize. Clockwork smiled, “Sure sounds boring. It’ll be good for you to chill with us.” You nodded eagerly, the headache you had slowly dissipated with every inhale of the mysterious smoke. You noticed the way her good eye tinted red, bloodshot veins popping around the rim of her eye and making you cringe. Both Toby's and Jeff’s eyes were bloodshot too…

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen [Y/N] chill a day in her life…” Jeff smiled lazily, elbowing Toby who answered with a scratchy giggle. Clockwork kicked at them, rolling her eyes playfully as she tugged you closer to her side. “Well, she’s going to today. Ain’t that right?” You nodded as she laughed, leaning to grab something from the passenger seat.

Her backpack was full of clutter, her hand rummaging around until she grasped what she was looking for. She tugged out a glass mason jar, little rolled-up objects sliding around as she held it up, the boys hollering their excitement. You were confused, trying to see what they were as Clockwork unscrewed the top and shuffled one out, presenting it before you.

“Uhm… what is it…” You laughed shyly, Jeff leaning forward to snag it from your palms.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never smoked a blunt before…” He teased, Toby leaning forward to tug a lighter from his jacket pocket and offer it to the killer, the brunette practically sitting in his lap as he watched the flame smolder against the bud. You realized where the stout smell was coming from as smoke wafted from the blunt, the story Clockwork was telling you earlier in the day coming together. So this is what she smoked… That also meant this was very well their second or third blunt, no telling how high they all were or wanted to be.

Toby slipped the smoldering bud from Jeff’s fingers the minute to flipped the lighter closed, popping the end between his lips and taking a deep inhale. Jeff leaned close, pressing his cheek against the boy’s and tugging it into his own when Toby let go, inhaling the same. You studied them, taking note of how they went about smoking the plant to make sure you didn’t embarrass yourself.

You glanced to Clockwork, her own lighter sparking up as she popped a cigarette into her mouth, lighting the end. You nudged her, a questioning look on your face.

“Are you not going to?” You hesitated as she inhaled, puffing the smoke past her lips and in the boy’s direction with a smile. She shook her head, holding the cigarette between her fingers as smoke surrounded the two of you, encasing everyone in the vehicle as the music thumped from the speakers.

“Nah, I already got my fill. Gonna let these idiots enjoy it. It’s not often they get to smoke without Slender on their asses.” You glanced back to the boys carelessly lounging against each other as they passed the blunt back and forth, minds swirled with the sourness of the weed. You smiled, glancing back to Clockwork dishing out another and handing it to you, lighter flipped in the other hand. “Go ahead, try it.”

You nervously took the bud, fidgeting it between your fingers as she guided the end to your lips. You held the blunt there, Clockwork flipping her lighter on and pressing the flame to the end, the roll smoldering before you. It was hard not to note the way she stared at you as she helped you, two fingers slipped under your chin as you let yourself stare back. When she was satisfied, she flipped the lighter closed, tugging back into her comfortable position as smoke began to swirl around you.

“Now, inhale. Let it sit in your lungs for a second, then blow it back out.” Her voice was scratchy but soothing, the roughness of her usual demeanor nowhere to be found as you followed her instructions the best you could. You tried to remember how you watched the boys do it, breathing deep as the tip of the blunt lit up, soaking down into your lungs. You held it there, stalling your breath as it burned, throat tightening as you quickly exhaled back again.

Smoke blew from your lips, and a fit of coughs soon followed as Clockwork patted your back. You sucked fresh air in, lungs burning from the weed as Jeff and Toby laughed obnoxiously across from you.

“Hey, that wasn’t bad! Not such a big inhale next time, okay?” Clockwork rubbed your shoulders, offering you a water bottle from the front seat of her Jeep as you finally caught your breath, sinking back into the pillows behind you. You let yourself take one more small hit, passing the blunt to an eager Toby who had no problem with finishing the rest. There was no telling what was enjoyable about that, or why the three of them were so excited, but you ruled that was enough for you.

Conversation bubbled, Clockwork quickly occupied Jeff and Toby’s muddled brains with her latest retellings of the concerts and festivals she had attended. You listened closely, wrapping a blanket around your crossed legs and smiling when the boys nudged their way beside you to get underneath as well, legs wrapping together as sour smoke and loud music filled your senses.

But eventually, it became muddled. Like the music was becoming distant or muffled, farther away than you remembered it being.

Before you could dwell on it, sensations rose, odd feelings and reactions you found intriguing. Where the boy’s legs tangled with yours, they felt tingly, like you could feel every part of their skin that touched yours. The sensation was overwhelming, but not nearly as much as trying to focus on every word that poured from Clockwork’s mouth. Suddenly, she was speaking too fast, words slurring as you tried to blink the dizziness away. What in the world was happening..?

But it just felt so warm, so comfortable lying against Toby and Jeff, your arms wrapping around their shoulders as Clockwork began to laugh and say something about it finally hitting you. You just laughed too, you weren’t sure why, but just seeing her smile was enough to make you as well. The boys laughed too, a swirl of dizziness and warmth pooling across your face as you drank in the atmosphere. Was this what being high was like?

Clockwork began talking again, flicking the last of her cigarette into her ashtray and reaching for a water bottle, starting a new story again. You didn’t know what she was saying, but suddenly you really wanted to lay with her, to be beside her. You didn’t even realize your body was moving until she was wrapping her arms around you.

“Hi, angel.” She smiled, your head lying in her lap as she brushed the hair from your face. The sensation felt so tingly, your eyes fluttering closed as you listened to the slur of her words and the brush of her fingers against your skin. Everything just seemed so heightened, felt so good… You never wanted to leave this moment. Especially not with the girl you idolized so much right here with you.

She was just so cool. You found yourself in awe of just how strong and steady she seemed to always be, always knowing exactly what she wanted out of life. You couldn’t get enough. You craved to be like that.

“Y’all guh- gonna kiss, or wh- what…” Toby chuckled, elbowing Jeff who laughed just a little too loud. Clockwork visibly tensed above you, halting her fingers across your skin and eyeing the boy. “Toby.” Her voice was still playful, but the hint of seriousness didn’t go unnoticed. You watched her face, mind now racing with the idea and playing clear pictures in your mind. Do I want to kiss her..?

The thought had never passed you before, but then again, you had never been offered it before. To you, Clockwork was an idol, an ideal version of who you wished to be. You had never contemplated anything more… until now.

“Are we?” You slurred the words out before you could really stop them, leaning up onto your elbows as you watched her expression twist to confusion. Jeff and Toby’s laughter fell silent, watching intently as you held eye contact, trying to read whatever she was thinking. Music thumped, the tension of the silence making your eyes nervously flicker back and forth.

“Do you want to...?” Clockwork shrugged, shifting her sitting position to face you, her cheeks notability growing a shade darker than before. You paused, contemplating. There was no tinge of nervousness behind you, the false courage brought in by your high suprinsing even yourself as you nodded. Even when nervous, she still just looked so cool.

The moments in between were quick, silent tension slowly fading as you both leaned forward. Was Clockwork even high? Were you even still high? You couldn’t think further as you felt her hands slide to rest against the sides of your face, your arms wrapping around her back as she pressed her lips against yours. You both gasped into the kiss, slowly tightening your grip against each other as the rest of the atmosphere faded. Your consciousness only registered this kiss, your eager but curious lips melting into hers as your mind flooded, dizziness and drowsy exhaustion tugging at your movements. This was really happening…

Clockwork tugged back before you wanted to be done, your head leaning to chase her kiss as you blinked your eyes open. You were both panting, her hands still cupped around your cheeks as she stared down at you, mentally registering what had just happened.

“That was hot.” Toby hummed, Jeff nodding along as they gripped the blanket tighter.

Clockwork groaned, letting off of you as she tugged the blanket and pillows from their arms, reaching to pop the back door of the Jeep open.

“Alright boys, shows over. Go to bed.” The night air flooded the vehicle, smoke swooping out into the wind as the two exasperatingly climbed out, mumbling their annoyance of wanting to see more. You sat back, combing over what had just happened and reaching for the water bottle you were handed earlier, nervously taking sips.

Clockwork shut the door, sighing as she leaned back into the pillows and swiped her hands over her face, groaning. You wanted to apologize, the haziness of the weed finally seeping its last wave over you as the tension bubbled, silence the only thing between you.

“I’m sorry…” You grit, picking at your fingers as Clockwork looks up at you, smiling.

“For?” She was beginning to lean forward again, the nervousness you should've been feeling earlier finally rousing in your gut. At least, that’s what you thought it was. You weren’t expecting the tears to pool in your eyes and drip down your cheeks. And you definitely weren’t expecting the words to bubble out so suddenly.

“I’m sorry for kissing you in front of Toby…” You hiccuped, swiping the tears from your eyes as more pooled, Clockwork immediately pressing towards you. “I know you two are… are a thing… I’m sorry…” Evidently, your high had not worn off.

“Angel…” Clockwork shushed you, reaching to wipe the tears from your eyes and brush the stray hairs from your face. She cupped your cheeks to look at her, concern lacing her expression as you tried to stop your whining. “What are you talking about..?” She laughed awkwardly.

You leaned into her touch, trying to gauge her tone as you took deep breaths. “Like, aren’t you and Toby dating… I’m sorry…” The tears welled again, but rough fingers were quick to swipe them away. “[Y/N], Toby and I haven’t been together in a long time.”

You watched her face for any sign of a joke, shaky breaths steadying out when you couldn’t find any. She just smiled that same sympathetic smile she always gave you, your cheeks heating up again. You reached to cup her hands on your cheeks, making sure she wouldn’t pull away. “Really?”

“Really.”

You both sat in the silence, your head spinning from the exhaustion of your crying, but Clockwork was sure to let you lean on her. She tugged you close, leaning back into the pillows and scooping your head to lay next to hers. She reached back to grip the dial of the radio and turn the music down, a soft thump ringing as the fairy lights twinkled overhead. You just now noticed how mesmerizing they were, only breaking your trance when you felt the same rough fingers tracing your cheekbones.

You glanced beside you, Clockwork’s face suddenly a lot closer than you remembered it being. “Why’re you so worried about me and Toby?” She teased, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You had always known Clockwork was a strong girl. Not just mentally, but physically. Being this close, you could see every indent of muscle on her shoulders and arms, her bicep tensing as she leaned closer to you. It was mesmerizing the way you suddenly realized her stature swallowed you whole. Not to mention the way her abs teased from the way her tank top rode up her abdomen.

“[Y/N]…” Clockwork cooed. Shit, you were staring. You shook your head, forcing your eyes to meet with hers again.

“I wasn’t worried… I’m not- Just-”

“Worried enough to cry… but kiss me anyway?”

She was throwing you for a loop now, probing your hazy brain for an answer you didn’t know she wanted. You groaned, clasping your hands over your face and trying to shrivel away. “I don’t know…”

“Well, maybe we need to find out, then.” You peeked from behind your fingers, Clockwork’s smug expression filling your vision as she tugged your hands down, wrapping her fingers with your own. You were tense, unsure how to move or what to say, but trying your best not to make a further fool of yourself.

Jealousy, idolization, a crush…? You wanted to contemplate it, you wanted to talk it over so there wasn’t any room for awkwardness. You waited desperately for the days she would come and visit, buying your time with every second she stayed until inevitably left you behind again. It wasn’t her fault, she was living her life.

But what if you wanted that life too…?

What if…

Soon your vision was invaded by her, rough hands cupping the sides of your cheeks to draw you closer as your lips pressed firm. You gasped into the kiss, tilting your head to sink further into her grasp as you wrapped your arms behind her back. Nails dug into the fabric of her tank top, stretching the cloth and pushing her closer to you, lips swiping across the other.

Clockwork was groaning, the remaining dizziness of the weed swirling overhead and seeping into every touch she gave you. It was intoxicating. You felt like you couldn’t get close enough, like no matter how close you pulled her she was still too far away. You let your tongue slip past her lips, false courage giving you a boost.

The dirty blonde obliged, letting her tongue swirl with yours as she trailed her hands down to your sides. She hooked her fingers into the belt loops of your jeans, tugging you up off of your knees.

“C’mere…” She grumbled against your kisses, pulling you to swing your leg over her thighs and straddle her hips. You sunk back into her, wrapping your arms around her neck and gliding your tongue along the warmth of her mouth. You couldn’t get enough, drinking in her smell and her taste, suffocating in it. It was almost better than getting high. Wait-

You pushed back off of her shoulders, disconnecting your mouths and leaving you both itching for more.

“Wait. This is wrong. We’re both high, and you’re definitely going to regret this and I-” The words jumbled out quickly, Clockwork knotting her brow as she clamped a palm over your puffy lips to silence your panic.

“[Y/N], I’m not high. Maybe a little sleepy, but definitely not high.”

You still kept her back, elbows braced as you forced yourself not to stare at her lips. “So… you want to kiss me? You’re not just doing it 'cause you’re high?” Clockwork was laughing again, letting her fingers rub against your hips as you waited patiently for her answer, unsure why she was finding it so funny.

“I told you, I’m not high. Besides, why do you think I keep coming to see you if I don’t like you enough to kiss you?” Your thoughts were mush, pieces not connecting the way they should’ve been. Maybe you weren’t as sober as you thought… but at least she was there to take care of you.

You did catch the way she smiled though, brushing the hair off of your face and rubbing at your sides. And the way she said she liked you.

“Do you… like-like me? Or just friend-like me…?”

“Just kiss me, [Y/N].”

Your back was being pushed into the blow-up mattress as Clockwork’s lips pressed against yours again. You melted again, brain entering that fuzzy state where the only thing you could register was how good you felt. She towered over you, your eyes peeking open to catch glances of the way her shoulder muscles strained above you, or the way her biceps flexed when she scooped your leg to wrap around her waist. You clung on, surprised at the sensation when she pressed her hips down, friction rutting against the crotch of your jeans.

“Ah- Jeez-” You whined when her lips dipped further along your jaw, wet kisses planted along your neck and collarbones. She was a lot more eager than before, hunger sweeping over you both as you let your hands tangle into her shaggy hair. Every press of her lips or grip of her hands was doubled in sensation, tingles and chills sweeping through your body and writhing for more. “Feels good…”

Clockwork nibbled at your shoulders, tugging the collar of your shirt aside to suck on the bare skin. She smiled at your whines, grinding her hips lower to bump the stretch of your jeans against your clit. The sensation made your back shoot off the mattress, fingers digging into her shoulders to stabilize yourself.

“Again- Do that again-” You whined out, wrapping your legs around her waist to roll your hips, searching for that same sensation. Clockwork obliged, her hands planted on either side of your head as she raised up to carefully angle her hips against yours.

She rolled them down, the crotch of her jeans roughly gliding on yours and bumping your clothed clits together. You moaned, hands wrapping around her shoulders as you watched, trying your best to meet her every movement and catch that feeling. You whined when she stopped, pouting your lip before you felt warm hands slinking up into your shirt.

“Been waiting on you to fess up for a long time now, angel. It was pretty hard trying to act like I couldn’t tell you were obsessed with me.” She spoke between kisses on your cheek, tugging your back off the mattress to slide your shirt over your head and to the side. “Hard to not miss you, too.” You leaned into her touches, chasing the warmth as her words muddled your thoughts. You couldn’t get enough of looking at her, the fairy lights overhead blinding you slightly, but Clockwork’s frame covering you soothingly.

“Keep doin’ that thing-” You smiled, pushing your hips up in a desperate attempt to create that wonderful sensation again, your clit already throbbing. The dirty blonde grinned above you, leaning back onto her knees to slide her tank top off, her sports bra contorting against her strong build in the most mouth-watering way. “Anything for you, angel.”

Your jeans were being unbuttoned as you reached for her again, tugging her close to steal quick kisses as she worked on tugging your pants down your thighs. Your heart was beating so fast, excitement pumping through to your fingertips when she finally tugged the fabric off of your ankles. Despite the cramped backseat of the Jeep, you felt so free, so comfortable to hold and touch the girl you idolized so dearly. And she was touching you, and you couldn’t get enough.

Clockwork tugged her own jeans off of her legs, sliding the stray clothes to the side as she readjusted her boxer briefs. Jesus, even the underwear she wore was cool. Your mouth practically watered at the sight of her belly button piercing, the small silver ball complimenting her toned stomach wonderfully. She tugged your hips over hers, kneeling between your spread legs as she slid her hands across your excited body. Every touch was electrifying, goosebumps rising wherever her fingernails scraped your skin.

You waited expectantly, trying your best not to seem restless as Clockwork leaned back to grab the glass mason jar from the front seat. You watched cautiously as she fished another blunt out, eyeing you carefully while she popped the roll between her lips and reached for her lighter in the back pocket of her jeans. Once again the sour smell of weed filled your senses, mind already swaying as Clockwork inhaled deeply before leaning back down over you.

Grabbing your jaw, she pressed your lips open with her thumb and steadied herself back into a kiss. You sighed as she pressed firm against you, taking a long exhale into your kiss and passing the smoke into your lungs. You tried your best to inhale, breathing deeply as the sour taste wafted through your windpipe. There was no helping when you began to cough, though.

“Easy… deep breathes…” She cooed, leaning back to take another hit off of the blunt before flicking ashes into the nearby ashtray. Clockwork handled you so carefully, making sure you didn’t get choked as you exhaled, blowing the smoke up into the air. “Atta’ girl…” She smiled, passing the bud between your fingertips as she began to slink down your abdomen.

“I thought you weren’t getting high-” You awkwardly shifted with her, spreading your legs to fit around her shoulders.

“Changed my mind. You’re gonna wanna feel this too…” She pushed your hand back to your mouth, beckoning you to take another hit of the smoldering plant. You did, not ignoring the way Clockwork’s cheeks darkened as you blew the smoke in her direction, smiling coyly. “Feel what?”

The familiar haziness fogging your brain was coming back, senses heightening slowly as Clockwork slipped your panties down your thighs and with the rest of the discarded clothes. You stalled, body burning up as she kissed along your hips and thighs, pecking at the skin just close enough to make you squirm. “Cumming when you’re high is heavenly. I think you ‘oughta try it out…”

She kissed right on the puffy lips of your cunt, drawing her hands between your thighs to spread them further. You shuddered, heavy eyes watching as Clockwork stared up at you, her one good eye already becoming bloodshot. Her tongue takes a long, achingly good stripe between your folds, soaking up your dripping arousal as you gasp, stomach clenching. “Mmn- So wet already…”

Your knees jerked as she flicked her tongue across your clit, letting your head fall back into the mattress with a groan. “F- Fuck…” It all felt so tingly, so electrifying as she dove her tongue between your puffy lips again. Your high was setting in again, the feeling of her tongue slowly pushing past the tight muscle of your entrance enhanced to feel so nauseatingly good. She was drinking every inch of you up.

“Feel good, angel? You taste amazing…” She mumbled against you, running her tongue to lap up your juices before centering on your clit again. You whined when she sucked the nub, static shooting through your abdomen and arching your back off of the makeshift bed. “Y- Yeah-” You give such a harsh pull on her soft strands, it has her leering up at you with a dragged-out groan. “Need more- Ah!”

Clockwork answers with a stout suck on your clit, delving deeper to press her tongue inside your gummy cunt once again. Your fingers of your free hand grip her hair tightly, stuttering your hips to get her deeper- closer- You almost scream out when you feel a thumb press onto your aching nub.

You’re writhing, barely able to hold the blunt in your opposite hand from how much your body is aching for release. Every movement of her tongue and fingers is sending you reeling, gasping for air as pulses of arousal reach every nerve ending. “You’re so close, pretty girl. Come on, come on-”

A rough pass of her thumb back and forth across your clit has you straining, cunt clenching down so intensely you dig your head into the plushness of the mattress. It feels like you’ve exploded, cunt twitching and aching so good you can barely see the fairy lights overhead. Clockwork rides you through, leaving her arousal-soaked tongue inside to lap up every inch of your crumbling ecstasy. She’s pushing back, practically moaning at how tight you’re tugging her hair.

The pounding in your head subsided when she finally let off, pressing her fingers to spread your soaked lips and view just how aroused you were. You were practically dripping. It was so violent - so dragged out, like no orgasm you’ve ever had before. She snatched the blunt from your wobbly fingers, popping the end between her lips and taking a hearty drag before handing it back to you.

Clockwork’s above you again, panting desperately as she clasps down on your neck, breathing deep as she leaves chaste kisses and bites along the stretch of skin. “Look so pretty when you cum, y’know?” You’re dizzy, legs spread around her hips and hands wrapping around her shoulder blades to claw for more. “Wanna help- Need- need you to-”

“No. Gotta show you all the best feelings, alright?” She sounded so much more intense, so in charge, as she pushed off of you. Being high made you hazy and aloof, but it made Clockwork rough and dominant. There was no fighting her intentions as you tried to calm your still-dizzy aftershock. She moved so hungrily, so eager to please.

Her hands were in her bag again, pushing junk around until she hauled out a smaller baggie, the drawstrings cinched. “Got this a bit ago- You’re gonna love it.”

You nearly cried when she tugged out a thick, realistic-shaped dildo. You sat up, nervousness ticking through your body as you watched her fish for something else in the bag too.

“Wanna try?”

You were nodding before you even realized it, Clockwork fishing a small bottle of lube from the bag and discarding the rest, something else clearly inside. You let her hands push you back against the mattress, prying her hands between your tired thighs and massaging your sensitive skin. You took another hit of the blunt, the sourness soaking in and calming your chattering nerves before you tossed the smoldering roll onto the ashtray.

But they started right back up again when Clockwork reached to unclasp your bra, pulling the fabric off of your tits and instantly latching onto your nipples. You whined, tangling fingers into her hair and tugging her up, pulling her to your stuttering lips. “Wanna feel it-”

Clockwork smiled her eagerness as she leaned off of you, tugging her own bra over her head and reaching for the dildo again. You gaped at her, the pure eagerness she held as you heard the lube bottle cap pop open, Clockwork careful not to drip any as she let the liquid trail down the erotic toy. You tried to keep your breathing steady, watching carefully as she moved the bottle from the toy over to your whiny cunt, letting the liquid droop down between your folds. You gasped, the cold feeling making chills spread as she leaned close again. “Can’t wait to taste you on this thing…” She sneered, kissing the tip of the toy so teasingly you shuddered.

“Please-” Clockwork’s sharp canines tugged at your bottom lip, you moaning into the messy clash of the kiss as you felt the cold silicone slap gently against your folds. “Please- fuck m’burning up-” You choke, angling your hips to try and press the head inside. There was nothing you wanted more, cunt clinging and crying for stimuli again until Clockwork was laughing against you. “So whiny…” She nicked a kiss against your shoulder.

You glanced down through heavy eyelids, the dildo sitting so heavily sandwiched between your swollen folds and just teasing to be slid inside. The silicone glistened with the lube, your lips pouting when you angled your hips further to slide inside, only for Clockwork to tug it back. You whined, her kisses along your neck halting as she breathed against your ear. “Easy, pretty girl, let me handle it.”

She was pushing your back up, sliding behind you, and tugging you into her lap, her strong arms wrapping around your torso. “Lay back, angel… Spread your legs for me…” She was coaxing your every move, pulling your knees back to angle the toy at your willing cunt. You were practically vibrating, arms reaching back to grasp onto her shoulders as she began to push.

“Yes-” Before Clockwork could tease you anymore, she was giving a slow, nauseating slide into your cunt. And then you couldn’t breathe- you couldn’t manage anything but a desperate moan. Pressing your shoulders back into her chest, she let the slick toy stretch you open. The push against your entrance had you mewling, senses heightened to a dangerous degree as your head pounded between your ears. The girth slid in, pressing against your velvety walls and finding your arousal clamping down. “Oh-” Clockwork’s gasping when she finally got the hilt of the toy to slap against your folds, bottoming out inside of you and leaving your head spinning. You felt so full, so incredibly stretched. It wasn’t like normal, your high was making it feel like every twitch of your cunt could wrack your body.

You tried to glance back at her, your heavy eyelids making your vision blurry as she began to move, her arm straining to tug the toy from the tight ring of your entrance and push it back in. “There we go… Feel it out…” She nibbled against your earlobe, wet kisses soaking into your skin as sweat beaded on your forehead, your body aching. The push was numbing, every jostle of the toy in and out leaving you strained for more, body pleading to go faster.

“Wanna- Wanna feel you-” Your nails were digging into her shoulders, hips stuttering to plow deeper, Clockwork driving her arm as fast as she could. “Fuck- Alright, alright-”

She gave one last drive of the toy, gripping your hand to reach down and hold it there as she slid out from behind you, laying you down. You whined, confused and desperate to have her back on you again, beginning to lean up until you saw her reach for the baggie again.

“Hold on, angel. Keep stretchin’ yourself, alright?” She looked so hazy, her cheeks dark and eye bloodshot as you obliged, leaning back on your elbow to slowly tug the toy in and out. You felt so light now, dizzily fucking yourself as Clockwork tugged what looked like a belt out of the baggie, your confusion evident.

She unclipped the straps, tugging her boxer briefs down and strapping it around her muscled thighs. You halted your movements, leaning up to watch as she snugged the fabric around, positioning it how she needed it as she reached for the toy between your thighs.

“Lay back…” She coaxed as she slotted the toy into the holster in the fabric, snugging it down to look like she was sporting her own cock. You smiled, suddenly finding the sight very funny as you leaned forward, resting your hands on her shoulders.

Clockwork sat back into the pillows, confusion striking her features and she stroked the toy, her intentions set on fucking you. You couldn’t help but want more though, turning around to lean back, the toy sliding between your thighs as you sat back on her lap. “Fuck…” Clockwork groaned, hands gripping your hips to tug you back.

You gripped the toy, your cunt throbbing as you pushed the head against your entrance, sitting back to let it slide in the same aching way as before. “Ah-” Your knees dug into the mattress, hands resting atop Clockwork’s as the silicone spread your entrance, the familiar stretch making you smile. Your jaw went slack, puffy lips holding open as your ass pressed back against strong hips. You tried not to stutter as you felt the hilt again, Clockwork huffing her arousal behind you.

“Looks so good, angel. Fuck my cock, just like that…” She smiled, leaning forward to nip your shoulder again, chills filling you. You were bouncing back, hips bumping with electric slaps as you rode back on the dildo. It was reaching deeper now, every inch schlicking further than before as you fucked your fack onto the length. You felt so dizzy, so cockdrunk as Clockwork groaned into your shoulder, moaning every time you did.

A snap of your hips told you she was feeling it too, the toy hilt grinding down onto her clit with every slap back, practically fucking you both. You let your jaw go slack, reaching back to wrap your fingers around the straps on her thighs, tugging them closer. Clockwork followed, snapping her hips to push into you every time you sat back, meeting your thrusts.

“Sh-Shit-” You felt your gummy walls clamping, straining to keep the toy as deep inside as she could fuck into you, arching your back sinfully to get it deeper.

Clockwork’s moan made you flinch, her forehead falling against your shoulder as she reached around, pushing your ass off abruptly as she fiddled with the base of the dildo. You were confused, impatient tinges of your hips making her giggle. You were about to push her hand out of the way, upset by the lack of movement until you heard the small click of a dial.

Your chest tightened, the clamp in your abdomen knotting as you felt the loud vibration knocking against your g-spot. Clockwork moaned out, a cut-off gasp making your eyes roll as she began to fuck into you again, the rumbling toy lodging itself inside.

You suddenly couldn’t keep your composure, your knees sliding out as you fell chest-first into the plush mattress, Clockwork gripping your hips to follow you down.

“Push back- There you go…” She was huffing as you arched your back, her hands pressing down on your shoulders to keep your face smashed into the fabric, sweat beading and dripping off of your skin. You’re gasping at the feeling of your toe-curling high, shots of pure pleasure running through your body as she snaps her hips into yours. Muffled moans and desperate claws against bare skin are the only things you can register, the absolute abusing stretch of the toy inside of your plush walls making you reel.

“Thought you could take it, huh? Wanted it so bad.” She was teasing you now, venom and arousal dripping from her every word, her quick pants loud behind you. “Hah-” Your back arches up sluttily into her as her rough cockhead was grazing so perfectly against your g-spot, her thrusts picking up pace. She was feeling it, you could tell by the way every time you felt the hilt on your puffy lips she was cracking out a moan too. The vibration was wrecking you both.

“Feels so good…” You’re mewling, reaching back to grip onto those straps again as she claws into your shoulders. You hold her legs there, not letting her thrust anymore as you begin to grind back, spine arching as far as you can get it.

The vibration of the toy is puffy on her clit, the hilt rumbling against the nub and making Clockwork choke out curses. You let the head press deep, stretching against taught muscles inside and ruling you over.

Convulsing over and over under her firm press, you can feel your orgasm clamping down on your abdomen again. “Feels so good- m’cumming m’cumming ah-” You’re choking out, hips stuttering back to grind against the girth. Clockwork’s snarling, taking deep breaths as she ruts her hips too, chasing the same feeling.

You’re dizzy, the pure wave after wave of arousal crashing into your body like a weight, your eyes rolling so far into your head you can barely see. Your cunt clenches, pulsing around the toy that's still rumbling inside of you to milk out every last round of your orgasm. Clockwork is shaking above you, hips jerking and thighs shaking as you hold her close by the straps, her body weight cascading on top of yours. “Christ-”

Your hips let out, falling flat against the mattress as she lays on top, breathing through her wilting shock until she's able to pull out, snapping the clasps undone and tossing the toy to the side.

You’re both panting, cunts swelled and aching from exhaustion as you cling together, sweaty bodies sticking close. It’s all you can do not to fall asleep right then, the overexertion of your still-high mind making everything seem so fuzzy. The sour smell still surrounded you, the thumping of the music inside the Jeep slowly coming back as you settle your nerves.

“Can’t- Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that-” Clockwork pants out, her nose finding its way to the crook of your neck and taking deep inhales. You were ecstatic, body too tired to show it but mind running a mile a minute. “I’m just upset it took me getting high to do it…” You sighed back, wrapping your arms around her shoulders and drawing her close, the fairy lights overhead looking all too close to stars and making you so, so sleepy.

Clockwork drags a blanket over to you two, throwing the warm fabric over top and nudging her way back against your side. You’re blinking slowly, trying to stay awake and contemplate, but your brain refusing to compute.

“I don’t want you to leave…” You’re whining quietly, tangling your fingers into her hair as her strong arms clasp around your sides.

“Come with me, then…” She whispered back, kissing your shoulder gently.

You wanted to answer, to reason that you couldn't just leave, that you couldn't just disappear…

You were both breathing steadily, minds quietly fizzling out as you made up your mind.

“No fuckin’ way.” Jeff is snickering, bumping your shoulder as you tug a drink from the fridge. Your eyes are heavy, exhaustion still steady as Clockwork slides behind you, grabbing milk for her coffee.

“Watch it.” She’s warning, placing a hand on your hip to slide past you as Jeff continues his tease.

The killer can’t stop staring at the wilts on your neck, the dark hickies and lovebites that gave off the events of last night. You hadn’t realized they were there until you had awoken in the backseat of the Jeep this morning, head pounding and body impossibly sore. Clockwork couldn’t get enough of them though, admiring how nice they looked.

However, she was leaving soon, bags already packed and buying her time with one last breakfast. It didn’t take much convincing for your bags to be shoved in the back too, scooping everything you cared to bring and hauling it down to the Jeep quietly.

“Oh, shit-” Toby was next, tugging the neck of your shirt back but quickly getting a slap on the hand from Clockwork. They were both laughing, Toby gave her a silent nod as she let her arm fall over your shoulder, a quiet answer to his unspoken question. He smiled, turning back to Jeff and shoving his shoulder.

“Say bye to [Y/N]. It’ll be a w- while till we see them both again.”

You said your quiet goodbyes as Clockwork pulled her Jeep around the front, popping open the passenger door as you jumped inside. She peeled from the clearing, vehicle bouncing and climbing through the unsteady terrain around the mansion. You watched in the windows as it disappeared, the deep breath you didn’t know you were holding finally letting itself out.

Clockwork reached to tangle your hand with hers, clenching tightly as if she never wanted to let go again.

All the times she visited, and all the stories you wished you would get to experience were slowly becoming a reality with every mile between you and that mansion. Never again would you tie yourself to that place. Glancing over, you smiled.

Freedom never looked so pretty.

This was a request from @bubbleduckie!

Comments and kudos are appreciated!

Thank you to my wonderful editors: @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

522 notes · View notes

stnkiconverse · 7 months ago

Text

you're going to do it, and you're getting away with it. you know that.

Ch.1 - The Calm Before The Storm

Next ⇢

genre: psychological horror (in a way), creepypasta, supernatural thriller (in a way)

pairing: none. (yet ;) )

wc: 1.5k

content warnings: echoes in the static contains scenes and themes that may be disturbing or triggering to some readers, including: graphic violence and murder, mental illness and psychological distress, suicide and self-harm, domestic abuse and strong language.

Reader discretion is advised.

Yes this has to do with Creepypastas. Yes, Creepypastas wil pop up and make appearances, it's basically a reader insert into the Creepypasta word.

do not repost my work anywhere, I only post in Tumblr.

The small city of Greenville, Alabama, was waking up to another mundane day, but not you. Not today. Today was different. The peaceful façade of your life as a fresh college graduate working in a tiny flower shop was just that – a façade. Behind it lurked a storm, one that had been brewing ever since your mother’s death.

Greenville was a quaint place, where everyone knew everyone else, and secrets were hard to keep. But you had a secret, a dark one. Your mother’s tragic end had shattered your world, and the man responsible, your stepfather, continued his life unscathed. He was a police officer, respected by many, but you knew the truth. He was a monster, and you’re going to stop him.

---

The flower shop was your sanctuary. “Petals and Posies” was a small but charming establishment, filled with the fragrance of fresh blooms. You lost yourself in the simple tasks of arranging flowers and tending to customers. The shop's front area displayed packets of flower seeds, inviting customers to start their own gardens. Along the side walls, ready-made bouquets sat in neat rows, a burst of colors and fragrances that never failed to lift your spirits. Customers could choose to customize their bouquets with the help of one of the two employees, either you or your colleague, Lisa.

Lisa was a warm and friendly presence in the shop, always ready with a smile and a kind word. You appreciated her company, though you often found solace in the quiet moments when the shop was empty, and you could immerse yourself in your work. Next to the employee desk stood a stand with various bouquet wraps, allowing customers to add a personal touch to their floral arrangements. The shop was small, but it had a steady stream of clients, enough to keep it alive and provide you with a modest living.

Your apartment was just a few blocks away, a small but cozy place that you had made your own. It was a simple one-bedroom unit, but you had decorated it with care. The walls were adorned with framed prints of your favorite paintings, and the shelves were filled with books that offered an escape from reality. Your bedroom window overlooked a small park, and you often found yourself gazing out at the trees swaying gently in the breeze, finding a momentary sense of peace.

---

Weekends were spent visiting your mother, a routine you cherished. She lived with Frank in a modest home on the outskirts of Greenville. It was a place filled with memories, both good and bad. Your mother, Anna, had always been your rock, your confidant. She was a kind and cheerful woman, always seeing the good in people. You admired her strength and the joy she brought into your life. During your college years, she met Frank, a man who seemed to offer her the love and companionship she deserved. They married while you were away at school, and for a while, it seemed she had found happiness.

Your mother’s house was warm and welcoming, a stark contrast to the man who lived there with her. The living room was filled with family photos, mementos of happier times. The kitchen was Anna’s domain, where she spent hours cooking and baking, her laughter filling the air. You loved these visits, the chance to reconnect with your mother and escape the loneliness of your apartment.

But the happiness was short-lived. It was during one of these visits that you first noticed the bruises. They were faint, barely visible, but they were there. As you helped your mother prepare dinner, you noticed the slight wince as she lifted a pot, the dark shadows on her wrists that she tried to hide with long sleeves.

---

“Mom, what happened to your arm?” you asked, trying to keep your voice casual, though your heart was pounding.

Anna glanced down at the bruise and quickly pulled her sleeve down. “Oh, it’s nothing, dear. I just bumped into the doorframe,” she said with a forced smile.

Before you could press further, Frank walked into the kitchen, his presence immediately changing the atmosphere. He was a tall, imposing man with a perpetual scowl etched on his face. The air seemed to thicken with tension whenever he was around.

“Everything okay in here?” he asked, his voice gruff.

You forced a smile. “Yes, just helping Mom with dinner.”

Frank grunted and walked to the fridge, grabbing a beer before heading back to the living room. You watched him go, a knot forming in your stomach. There was something off about him, something that made your skin crawl.

You decided not to push your mother further that evening, but the image of those bruises stayed with you. Over the next few weeks, you visited more often, trying to spend as much time with her as possible. You suggested outings, hoping to get her away from Frank’s oppressive presence. Sometimes she agreed, and for a few hours, you saw glimpses of the cheerful woman you knew. But other times, she declined, her eyes filled with a sadness she couldn’t hide.

---

It wasn’t long before things took a turn for the worse. Your mother stopped answering your calls. When you did manage to see her, she looked more tired and emaciated each time. The once vibrant woman was now a hollow shell, her spirit crushed under the weight of Frank’s abuse. She had stopped eating, her clothes hanging loosely on her frail frame. Her eyes, once full of life, were now dull and lifeless.

You tried to talk to her, to get her to open up about what was happening, but she remained silent. The fear in her eyes spoke volumes, though, and you knew she was hiding something terrible. Frank’s behavior grew more erratic, his temper flaring at the slightest provocation. You witnessed him yelling at your mother, his face twisted in anger, while she stood there, her head bowed, taking the verbal abuse without a word.

One day, you arrived at her house to find it eerily quiet. Your heart raced as you searched room after room, finally finding her in the bedroom. She was lying on the bed, her face pale and lifeless. An empty bottle of pills lay on the nightstand, and a crumpled note was clutched in her hand.

With trembling hands, you unfolded the note. It was brief but devastating: “I can’t take it anymore. He’s taken everything from me. Forgive me.”

---

Your world shattered in an instant. The grief was overwhelming, but what fueled your rage was Frank’s reaction. He showed no remorse, quickly moving on as if your mother’s life had meant nothing. The day of her funeral, you saw him laughing with another woman, and something inside you snapped. The seed of revenge was planted, and it grew with each passing day.

---

The day of the funeral was overcast, fitting the somber mood. The cemetery was filled with friends and family, all gathered to pay their respects to your mother. You stood by the grave, numb with grief, as the preacher said the final words. You barely heard them, lost in your own thoughts.

You recalled the earlier years with your mother, the warmth and laughter that once filled your home. She had been your everything, the one person who understood you completely. As you stood there, the memories of her gentle touch and kind words played in your mind, a stark contrast to the cold reality of her absence.

As the service concluded, you watched the mourners drift away, leaving you alone by the freshly turned earth. Your mother’s coffin was lowered into the ground, and you felt a part of yourself go with her. The weight of your grief pressed down on you, but so did something else – a cold, calculated resolve.

You watched as Frank, dressed in his police uniform, walked towards his car. His face was a mask of indifference, as if the death of his wife meant nothing to him. A woman was waiting for him, someone you didn’t recognize. She smiled as he approached, and your stomach turned.

Frank got into the car and leaned over to kiss her. The sight was like a punch to the gut. The betrayal, the callousness, it was all too much. You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you fought to keep your composure. But inside, something snapped.

It was then that you knew, with absolute certainty, that you were going to get rid of him. He didn’t deserve to walk away unscathed. He had to pay for what he had done to your mother. And you were going to make sure of it.

As you turned away from the cemetery, a new resolve filled you. This was just the beginning. The storm was coming, and you were ready to unleash it.