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uncannydevotion · 3 months ago

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“ i'll love you 'til the day that i die! ”

a/n: this one is a mixture of dark content and light content so i really do recommend reading the warnings for this. the mh ones might be a little vague in canon bc it's been a little over two years since my last rewatch so!!

synopsis: realizations of love and what comes with.

includes: slenderman, jeff the killer, jane the killer, nina the killer, homicidal liu, sully, the bloody painter, nurse ann, eyeless jack, laughing jack, hobo heart, ticci toby, clockwork, jason the toymaker, the puppeteer, the doll maker, zalgo, x-virus, laughing jill, candy pop, dr smiley, kagekao, nathan the nobody, zero, judge angels, kate the chaser, rouge the proxy, tim wright, brian thomas, jay merrick, alex kralie, jessica locke.

warnings: gn!reader, varying lengths, multiple mentions of unhealthy relationships, mentions of murder, blood, cults (zalgo), harm against reader (jane, nathan), reader death (dr smiley, alex kralie), obsession (nina, zalgo, dr smiley, nathan, helen), possessive behavior (zalgo, dr smiley, jason, zero, candy), references to a work on my old blog in the puppeteer's part, jealousy (x-virus), jay's death, numerous mentions of unhealthy co-dependency.

SLENDERMAN — does not understand the concept of love. this isn't to say it can't feel it, it just... won't be able to immediately identify when it starts to develop such an emotion for you. it goes through many experiences where it has a moment of 'you are... an interesting being' towards you, and those are like mini realizations. it won't realize it loves you until someone explains to it what love is.

and once it does understand that the strange feeling you made it feel was love, well... it's a bit hesitant to indulge, to be honest. slender has never felt something like this before. it didn't even know it was capable of such an emotion. it's something it always viewed as a weakness. it'll take a while for slender to accept its feelings for you, to be honest.

JEFF THE KILLER — realizes he's in love with you when he shows up at your place one evening to find you struggling to stay awake while waiting for him. it hits him suddenly, seeing you drifting in and out of sleep while staring at your phone. you hadn't realized he was there yet, and honestly, he doesn't want you to know. because if you look over at him, you'll see the disgusting fondness in his gaze.

he won't tell you he loves you for a long time. it's something that makes him feel weak. he'd always believed he had nothing to lose, and now that he does... it's just not something he was ready to acknowledge. those three words will only slip past his lips when he thinks he's about to lose you, because that's the only way you'd probably get him to admit he loves you.

JANE THE KILLER — only realizes she's in love with you when jeff threatens your life. you two were friends, and she cared deeply for you, but it was nothing more than that, surely. but then that rat bastard dared to hurt you, and suddenly she's a teenager again, losing everything she's ever loved. your blood on her hands is something she never wants to experience again.

but you survive, and jane is telling you that she loves you the moment your eyes open. you don't have to love her back, but she needs to get these feelings off her chest because it felt like she'd drown in them if she didn't. whether you reciprocate them or not doesn't matter to her, because jane will make a vow to ensure that no harm comes to you ever again.

NINA THE KILLER — likes to say she knew she loved you from the start, but that was just infatuation. nina is a bit desperate for a relationship, truth be told, so she's deeply invested in anyone who shows her an ounce of kindness because she thinks it could lead to something more. it's led to her being disappointed far too many times, and everyone had assumed it would be the same with you.

but as the weeks went by, her infatuation never went away. you didn't try pushing her away when she was around, and you always included her in the conversation. you went out of your way to make sure she didn't feel neglected. at this point, she doesn't care if it's genuine love or not. all she knows is that you and her are meant to be together, and she will stop at nothing to make sure that happens.

HOMICIDAL LIU — has numerous reasons as to why he doesn't realize he's in love with you until it literally smacks him in the face. he's busy trying to kill jeff, he's never been in a relationship before, he thinks he doesn't deserve the happiness a relationship might give him. just about all of that, all wrapped up into one giant mess of a ball. the way he realizes he's in love with you is sully literally screaming at him in his head and giving him the world's worst migraine.

even with this realization, he hesitates to indulge. once he does, he'll be baring all his flaws to you. you'll see every nasty part of him that he doesn't want you to know about, and you'll realize that he's no good for you. but when those words of love quietly escape him, and you smile at him and tell him you feel the same, he can't stop himself from being selfish. just this once, he decides. and if you ever want to leave, he'll let you go. he hopes.

SULLY — experiences something akin to love at first sight, actually. the moment he met you, he liked you. it was a strange fascination, one that had his heart racing when he was fronting. of course, he's not delusional enough to think it was actually love. still, it doesn't stop him from admiring you, and constantly telling you that he likes you whenever the chance presented itself. the moment it turns to genuine love, however, it's like this switch flips.

the playful glint in his eyes whenever he'd dramatically drape himself over you, the smug smile when he'd get you flustered, it was different. his touch lingered now, like he wanted to just be glued to your side. his smile was softer, like seeing you flustered was something more than a joke. his eyes held an emotion in them that was bordered on uncanny, like he wanted to devour you whole. his love for you could easily become twisted, if under the right circumstances.

THE BLOODY PAINTER — has absolutely no interest in romance whatsoever until you. helen's entire childhood revolved around being good enough for his parents, so he never had the opportunity to read romance novels or watch romance movies. now it's simply not something he cared about. the only thing that had his attention was his art. it was a part of his very being, after all. and the way you interact with his art is actually what made him fall for you.

he's used to people complimenting his work. empty words, things that meant nothing to him. but you criticized him. you pointed out certain things about his paintings that you didn't like, and highlighted the things you did. you were honest with him. and honesty is a quality he finds to be very attractive, apparently, because you end up stuck in his mind, the focal piece of all his work. his muse. something that bordered on obsession.

NURSE ANN — has a hard time feeling emotions to begin with, so she probably won't realize she loves you for a long time. her emotions are... dull, to put it simply. vague things that she struggles to identify. if it's not anger, then it'll take her a while to identify how she feels. it takes even longer for her to even articulate her emotions into something she can explain to you, considering she can't speak.

but ann realizes she's in love with you randomly one night, when you're not around. you're in her mind a lot more than she would like, but it's not something that upsets her. she spent a good chunk of the night wandering the halls of the abandoned hospital just... thinking about how she feels about you, and what the proper way to describe that feeling would be. she's not sure if she's ever been in love before, but she'd like to experience it with you.

EYELESS JACK — realizes he loves you in bits and pieces, over the course of your companionship. originally, he had wanted to eat you. but for one reason or another, he opted not to, and it led to a strange friendship blossoming instead. you took his demonic nature in stride, and never seemed repulsed by his less than human qualities. you appeared curious, more often than not. your curiosity is the first thing he finds himself falling in love with.

but the thing that solidified his feelings for you was when he paid you a visit one night, and you had excitedly guided him to this mini freezer you had bough a while ago. inside was just... numerous things of raw meat. animal meat, you had explained, because you weren't willing to dabble in illegal activities to get human meat. you just wanted him to be able to snack on something whenever he decided to spend the night, and he just... he ends up kissing you right then and there, yeah.

LAUGHING JACK — refuses to believe that he could ever fall in love with you. he's evil, he's cruel, he's never going to experience such stupid feelings like love. but it's like the universe is always out to make a fool out of him, because you come crashing into his life and suddenly colors start appearing again, and he hates it. he hates you, hates that you make him feel something after spending centuries feeling nothing.

and yet, he's somehow always finding excuses to be in the same room as you. he's stubborn enough to not admit that he's in love with you for a long time, but trust that his abandonment issues will make it known that he would kill you if you ever thought about leaving him. love him, hate him, he doesn't care as long as you're with him.

HOBO HEART — didn't think he could fall in love again after what happened with celina. he spent decades roaming the earth, taking the hearts of those who didn't deserve it, just to prolong his own existence before he met you. he could sense the purity in your heart, and it's what drew him to you to begin with. he was waiting for you to reveal your true colors, to give him a reason to kill you and take your heart but... it never came.

instead, you just proved to him that he could fall in love even without having a heart of his own. it's different from the first time he felt like this, and yet it was oh so familiar. the only possible downside to hobo being in love with you is the fact that he takes everything very literally, so anything you say is like the law of existence to him. he'll give you the hearts of hundreds of people to prove his devotion to you.

TICCI TOBY — realizes he's in love with you when he finds himself seeking out your presence. love is a scary thing to him, because he's not sure it's something he can handle. not anymore. he built up so many walls just to protect himself that it was... terrifying, really, how easily you were able to worm your way into his life. what confused him the most was the fact that he welcomed you.

it'll take him a while to actually come to terms with his feelings for you. he may even go as far as to avoid you entirely during the process, simply because you being around made it hard for him to focus. he never wanted a relationship, not that he can remember. being a proxy is all he knows, but now he's thinking about kissing you, and spending time with you, and wondering if you'll try talking to him today, and... it's all you.

CLOCKWORK — knows that she's in love with you when you don't distance yourself from her when you see her ugly side. her angry outbursts, her random breakdowns, things that she doesn't like people seeing. you've seen it all, and you've never let that change the way you viewed her. a part of her hates that you're so accepting, because it makes it so damn easy to get attached to you, and she's always wondering when the other shoe will drop.

natalie doesn't like feeling weak, but god... you make it so easy to just let loose, and it's a feeling she starts to crave when she's away from you for too long. i don't think she'll tell you she loves you, mostly because she's got this idea instilled in her head that if she does, you'll drop her immediately. if this relationship were to go anywhere, you'd have to take the first step.

JASON THE TOYMAKER — is telling you he loves you the moment he decides you're the one for him. he does this with all of his victims. but you won't be like the rest, surely. you'll stay, and never need anyone other than him. but he doesn't realize that he's truly, deeply, in love with you until it just hits him while he's in the middle of sewing up some random stuffed animal. jason loves you. it's a revelation that shouldn't shock him, but it does.

and the next time he sees you, the words are tumbling out of him mouth as he wraps his arms around you, squeezing you so tightly that you felt like you'd suffocate in his arms. you were the one for him. you had to be. nobody has ever made him feel like this before. the place where his heart should be burned whenever you were around, and it's such an odd feeling that he was becoming obsessed with. you can't leave him, and he won't let you even if you tried.

THE PUPPETEER — staunchly refuses to acknowledge his feelings for you for a very long time. he's always had a bit of a soft spot for you the moment he made you his proxy, but he ignored it. he'd even get angry if anyone brought it up, because no. he is not in love with you. you're merely a tool for him to use, nothing more. but as time went on, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the aching in his chest whenever you were around.

it all tips over when he catches you carefully tending to emra's injuries while he had been away. he's been known to be very possessive of his creations, not letting anyone touch them but him. but you hadn't known when he'd be back, and emra needed her hand fixed, and he just... you were being so careful with her, treating her like the masterpiece that she was. he'll never say the words, but you'll know in the way he's gentler with you. the way his touch lingers, and the way golden strings always seem to coil around you whenever he's near.

THE DOLL MAKER — seems like the type of person who will only truly fall in love with someone who is as passionate about his work as he is. the moment he catches you carefully moving one of his dolls around like it was something to be treasured, or if you decide to make little accessories to match the outfits he designs... well, the wedding is already planned out in his head and he's wondering when to pop the question.

in all seriousness, he'd take his time before he ever told you how he felt. vine isn't experienced in the world of romance, so he doesn't know when the right timing would be to confess his love. he just hopes that it's something that he's made obvious in his other actions. but when he does decide to tell you those three words, he hopes that you'll say them back.

ZALGO — similarly to slender, did not think he could feel such an emotion. he was a being that transcended human understanding, after all. he made people go insane with a single thought, so how could he ever possibly feel something such as love? the mere idea was enough to have him laughing. no. something such as that wasn't possible. but then you come into his life. a strange, curious human with far too much confidence around an eldritch horror.

zalgo will make you understand the horrors that come with having him love you. you became a deity in the eyes of his numerous cults, essentially. there's no telling how many people have been sacrificed in your honor. how many loved ones you've lost, simply because you had made a creature beyond your understanding love you. it's not pretty. it's cruel, and gruesome, and you will never be able to leave him.

X-VIRUS — is that slow burn sort of realization. honestly, he seems like he's the type to be oblivious to romance unless it's laid on thick. to him, for a long time, you're just a really close friend who sometimes helps him with his experiments. cody will only realize his feelings for you if you start spending time with someone other than him. your absence is something he becomes painfully aware of, to the point that it makes it impossible to focus on anything.

he's not the possessive type by any means, but there's this feeling of jealousy in his gut when he sees you with someone else. that's when it clicks in his mind, 'oh. i'm in love.'. i want you to picture a classic friends to lovers romance, with a side of medical experimentation and murder. cody would like to think his confession was super romantic and the greatest thing ever, but no. no, he stumbles over his words, he's nervous, and he's just hoping you'll reciprocate his feelings.

LAUGHING JILL — finds herself falling in love with you when she realizes she can feel when you're around. the usual bitterness and anger that she felt on a constant always seemed to die down around you, and that joy that she came into existence with bubbled to the surface. it was childish, almost, the way she got excited whenever you wanted to include her in something. no matter how small, she took any excuse she could just to spend time with you.

it's too the point where jill feels as if she cannot exist without you. you've become so intertwined with her existence that she feels as if she'll die without you. it's unhealthy, and she knows this, but she finds it hard to care when the happiness you bring with you was just too addicting for her to give up.

CANDY POP — wasn't the type to grow attached to people easily. he had friends, sure, but it had taken him ages to actually refer to them as such. to him, everyone is a toy for him to play with however he pleases. you were meant to be just that, and yet you somehow turned the tables on him and he ended up falling in love with you like a pathetic fool. it's a realization that has him reeling, because he didn't think love was something he was capable of.

candy tries to be the picture perfect suitor you could only dream of having, he really does, but if you're not reciprocating his feelings within the first week of him confessing to you, he's dropping the act and just taking you for himself. you lost all choice in the matter the moment he entered your life, actually. and if you're really adamant on getting away from him, then trust that he will not hesitate to drag you into the abyss he's tethered to.

DR SMILEY — won't realize he's in love with you until you're already dead. you were just a victim of his that he kept around far longer than he normally did, but the silence that surrounded him when you were no longer around was... haunting. he tries to replace you, thinking another victim crying and begging for mercy would fill the silence but it just wasn't the same.

they didn't make his heart race the way you had. he didn't feel that excitement he had felt when he was with you. he won't call it love, but it was a strong enough feeling that it had him gathering the pieces of your body. he's a doctor. he'll stitch you back together, and bring you back to him. and when you wake from the dead to see the sharp smile of the man who killed you, you'll realize that there's truly no escaping him.

KAGEKAO — isn't a stranger to romance. he's had his fair share of relationships, what with sadie and then realizing he's gay and the awkward breakup that came with that, plus the numerous flings and situationships. you were meant to be nothing more than another situationship, and maybe even a victim if he got bored of you, but... that boredom never came. and neither did the end of your weird relationship.

kagekao somehow always ended up at your place whenever he wasn't off tormenting some poor soul. then he started to pop up whenever he was bored, and he'd somehow always end up staying the night. there were times when he'd even bring over some cheap takeout and wine. he knew he was gone when you rested your head on his lap while you two were watching some silent film, and the movie suddenly seemed irrelevant to the feeling of you. ah... you'll keep him entertained for a while, he's sure of it.

NATHAN THE NOBODY — is so obsessed with finding the people who kidnapped his sister that he never has the energy to focus on anything else. anyone he perceived to be part of the organization was an immediate target, and that's basically everyone he meets. so you have to be real special right off the bat for him to even not think about killing you. and lucky for you, you were his sister's best friend. you weren't part of the organization, you were safe. you could be trusted.

so when someone tries hurting you, it's like the entire world narrows down to that person. crystal would hate if anything happened to you, and nathan... seeing your face contort in pain had this sick feeling in his chest. you were terrified of him, the blood on his hands sticking to your skin as he pulls you into a suffocating hug, his heart pounding. the thought of losing you had never occurred to him, and while he doesn't label the feeling as love, he definitely doesn't plan on letting anything happen to you. no matter what, he'll keep you safe.

ZERO — cannot feel love the way other people feel it. love isn't even in her vocabulary. her only interest in this world is to kill anyone she comes across, to revel in their pain and agony because that's just how she is. yet somehow, she took an interest in you. you can kiss your normal life goodbye, because the moment she decides you're worth keeping around, she's not letting you go until she wants you dead. in her mind, you belong to her now.

so it's not love. not a healthy kind, at least. it's a desire to own, a need to claim. don't worry, though, she'll make sure to take good care of you. anyone who causes you trouble is nothing more than another story for the local news, and all she wants in return is a simple thank you and kiss on the cheek. she loves playing house with you! she'll be a great girlfriend as long as you play along.

JUDGE ANGELS — is wholly oblivious to romance as a whole. her entire life, she was sheltered. even years after becoming the murderer she is today, she never formed any bonds with people. none that were positive, at least. but then you came along. someone that dina found herself getting attached to the longer she spent time with you. she didn't understand why her heart raced whenever you got too close to her, and the feeling was overwhelming enough that she ended up pushing you away because she thought it was something bad.

with enough time, and exposure, she'll come to realize that the feelings she has for you aren't bad. she'll always be worrying about doing something wrong that'll make you hate her enough to leave her. you're the first person she's ever loved, the first person to love her. she can't lose that. just promise that you won't leave her, even if you stop loving her.

KATE THE CHASER — shouldn't have fallen in love to begin with. her sole reason of existence was slenderman, so she shouldn't care for anything else. she kept herself distant from the other proxies for that reason, because she didn't feel the need to connect with anyone. she was fine in her solitude. she wasn't meant to fall in love, so why does she feel so alive when you spend time with her?

you were always accommodating to her, visiting her when it was dark out and making sure you never shined your flashlight at her whenever you two went on walks through the forest. it's a relationship that will never work out, because proxies aren't meant to be anything but a vessel for slender. and yet, as time goes on, her feelings only get stronger and stronger, and she wonders... maybe it's okay to be selfish and indulge in you.

ROUGE THE PROXY — certainly didn't think she would fall in love after everything she's been through, and yet here she is, hovering around you like a guard dog as you dealt with the target you were meant to kill. she knew you could handle yourself, you're a proxy after all, yet she stood there, waiting. even after the mission was over, she would linger for a bit just to make sure you were safe.

her feelings for you are no secret. every proxy, including you, were aware of the special place you had in her heart. yet your relationship with her was so vague. she hasn't asked you out, but you two already act as if you're dating. it's this really strange 'will they, won't they' situation that all the proxies have made bets on. she's content with how things are now, though, so it might take time for her to actually verbalize her feelings for you.

TIM WRIGHT — is a little more confident before the events of marble hornets, so if he realizes he's in love with you during that time period, he won't have too much trouble telling you. maybe he'll need brian to hype him up a bit, and maybe he'll be a bit awkward when he does tell you that he's head over heels in love with you, but he still manages to tell you.

but tim during and after the events of marble hornets? total opposite. everyone he knew and loved died, and it's all his fault. how could he ever allow himself the privilege of your love when it's something he knows he doesn't deserve? even if you were to try and take the initiative, he'd turn you down. you can do so much better than him. getting close to him is basically signing your death certificate, and he's already lost so much. he's not sure if he can bear the pain of losing you, too.

BRIAN THOMAS — out of the entire marble hornets cast, save for maybe jessica, is the most in tune with his emotions. the moment he developed a romantic interest in you, he was asking you out. when he wasn't helping alex with marble hornets or hanging out with tim, he was taking you out on dates and solidifying his interest in you. he had actually planned on dropping the love bomb after the filming wrapped up, but...

even though he can't remember, he knows you. the man in the hoodie feels something for you. it's different from the protectiveness he feels for tim. for some reason, he doesn't want you involved in this mess. the moment jay reaches out to you and drags you in, he's doing everything he can to get you out. there were cryptic warnings directed towards you specifically, and when jay or tim weren't around, you'd sometimes catch him watching. you were scared, but you had made a vow that you wouldn't back out until you find brain.

JAY MERRICK — didn't think he'd really fall in love with someone while investigating the tapes, but he did. hard. he had met you early on since you were the first person part of the marble hornets crew he was able to get into contact with. it's almost scary how easily you guys hit it off. before things went to shit, jay really thought you two would become good friends. and unfortunately, jay doesn't realize he's in love with you until he's dying.

his entire life flashed before his eyes the moment alex shot that gun, and all he could think about was you. you, who stood by his side throughout this whole experience. you, who desperately tried to keep him from getting in too deep. you, who he had carelessly shrugged off because the operator's influence was far too strong. he can only hope you make it out of this hell alive.

ALEX KRALIE — will never realize he's in love with you post-operator. the feelings will be there, but he's already too far gone to go deep into what they might mean. all he knows is that he's desperate to kill you first, to get you out of this mess early on. it's because you two are close friends, that's all. and the hollow feeling left afterwards if he's successful is a price he's willing to pay.

but pre-operator alex will find himself falling in love with you when you support his passions. the moment he talks about marble hornets with you, you're passionate about supporting him, and it had him getting all nervous. he'll even offer you a role in the project, either as an actor or just crew if you're not comfortable with being filmed. anything to be able to spend more time with you. he had planned on asking you out on an official date when filming wrapped up.

JESSICA LOCKE — is stuttering over her own words the moment she locks eyes with you for the first time, because she is just that captivated by you. it's not love at first sight, but she definitely wants to take you out on a date. it's only with amy's encouragement that she actually does, and you two just... naturally hit it off that it sorta became a casual thing.

but she realizes she's in love with you when all this shit with marble hornets has blown over, and you're the first person she thinks of. she'd been missing for months, and you probably thought she had ghosted you. it's a little mortifying, honestly. she can't explain what happened, but she hopes you'll be willing to let her back into your life. because she really really really wants to be your girlfriend.

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rainrot4me · 26 days ago

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The Quiet Violence Of Wanting

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

────────────────────────────── run to you - bryan adams

── .✦ do not copy, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. dividers by me.

NSFW WARNING, MINORS DNI

✦ . Summary: Helplessness, guilt, remorse, and isolation—all unacceptable emotions when you’re a proxy. You’ve got blood on your hands, and purposeful or not, the cops don’t care. Their job is so take you in. It’s okay to need saving—especially if it’s from a pretty killer lady who’ll do anything to make you squeal.

✦ . Characters: {Separate} Kate the Chaser x Female Reader, Jane Everlasting x Female Reader, Clockwork x Female Reader, Nina the Killer x Female Reader

✦ . Warning: Blood, violence, guns, bullet wound, panic, mentions of dead body, sex as a means of reassurance, vaginal fingering, oral sex, teasing, rough sex, cunnilingus, scissoring, sixty-nine, face riding, semi-public sex, blood consumption (sexual)

✦ . Words: 20.7k {~ 5k per section}

✦ . Note: HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!! I know I’m hitting it on the tail-end here, but that makes me no less proud and grateful to be in such a great community of lgbtq+ folks. Super long one, mind the warnings, but have fun with these scary girls!! They’re all wlw in my heart 🤍 Thank you so much again to Angie for creating such BEAUTIFUL banner art for this post, go give her all the love and kudos you can muster!!

Art by @z0l0fft.

────────────────────────────────────────────

You weren’t supposed to kill him.

Not like that.

Not like an animal.

But the memory is burned into the backs of your eyelids—your hands around his throat, the crunch of cartilage, the wet snap of something vital giving out. The screams stopped too fast. You didn’t even realize how hard you were squeezing until the body slumped in your grip like a sack of meat, eyes wide, mouth frozen open. You stood there for a second too long, panting, trembling, staring down at what was left of the mission.

It was supposed to be a grab-and-interrogate. A standard proxy hit. Kill a weakened ally who decided to run his mouth and put the proxies in a messy spot.

But he laughed. He said your name like it was something filthy.

And suddenly, there was no handler, no script—just red.

Now the cops are coming.

You don’t know how many are chasing you anymore. Four? Five? Maybe six. Doesn’t matter. You’re faster.

You’re running on pure instinct, lungs shrieking for air, body soaked in blood—some of it yours, most of it not. You tore through the suburban house like a hurricane, crashing out the back door and bolting into the night. By the time you hit the woods, there were already sirens, dogs, radio chatter echoing through the air like the voice of God calling down judgment.

The soles of your boots hit the earth like war drums.

Each breath cuts your throat.

Your side burns with a sharp, knifing pain—either from a cracked rib or where a bastard cop clipped you with a bullet.

But you don’t stop. You can’t stop. Not now. They’re on your heels. You can feel it in the way your heart jumps in your chest.

Flashlights sweep through the darkness behind you. One illuminates your shoulder just as you dive behind a cluster of trees, your back scraping bark. You spin, raise your gun, and fire—three wild, desperate shots.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Someone cries out. Maybe you hit them. Maybe not. It doesn’t matter. You’re not trying to win—you’re trying to disappear.

You lunge forward, ducking under branches, tearing through a tangle of shrubs and briars. Your clothes are shredded, your hands are shaking, your teeth won’t unclench. You can still feel that bastard’s pulse stop under your fingers.

What if they catch you? What if they take you alive?

You’ve heard the rumors—what the government does when they catch one of you, a proxy.

The experiments, the vivisections, the silence.

You’d rather take a bullet to the head than be taken.

Your body’s failing. Every breath is ragged, vision’s tunneling. You leap over a ditch and almost collapse on the landing. You’re too slow, too loud, too fucking messy. The Operator will have your head for this.

Your blood leaves a trail behind you.

You reach the edge of the woods—houses again. Neighborhood streets, too quiet for the hour. A dog barks in the distance. Police sirens wail louder, closing in. Helicopter blades chop the sky above, scanning with white-hot beams like they’re looking for heat signatures, monsters in the brush.

You press yourself against the side of a shed, gun shaking in your grip, and try to steady your breath. Your eyes sting. You don’t remember if it’s from tears or sweat or blood. You don’t care.

You weren’t supposed to kill him like that.

But deep down, a rotten, hidden part of you whispers:

You wanted to.

You close your eyes for one second.

Snap. A twig breaks nearby.

You don’t even think. You spin on instinct, raise the gun, heart jackhammering against your ribs—

—but you’re not fast enough.

A hand grabs your wrist.

Another seizes your hoodie, yanks you hard.

You’re pulled violently backward, into pitch black. Your body slams against something solid—stone? wood? another body?—and a hand clamps over your mouth.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ KATE THE CHASER

You barely have time to register the shape in front of you—just a shock of dark hair, hard shoulders, the gleam of a blade tucked close to a lean frame, and a chalky mask that covers every inch of face except for the cold stare of angry eyes—before Kate shoves you back against the broken-down brick wall behind the shed. Her grip on your hoodie is iron, knuckles gone white.

“Kate—”

You saw her first through the smoke and flashing red-blue police lights—that hard silhouette, lean and coiled like a predator, the eyes behind that blank white mask burning with a cold purpose. Her hair swung like a blade down her shoulder, streaked with dark grime and sweat, making her look carved straight out of some soldier’s nightmare.

Her other hand is already gripped onto your jaw tight, tilting your face up toward hers.

Her eyes cut straight through you, that same unblinking, predatory stare she always wears. You’ve seen her glare down terrified prey, watched her paint entire rooms red with her knives, but right now that fury’s turned on you—and somehow, that’s worse. Out of all the missions you’ve done together, of course the one that she let you handle while she kept watch was the one that you majorly fucked.

“What the fuck happened?” She spits the words through gritted teeth.

You try to answer, chest still hitching with adrenaline, hands reaching around her arms and trying to pry her iron-clad hold away, but your voice breaks in your throat. All you manage is, “The mission—” before she tightens her hold, silencing you.

“Nevermind. Not here. We need to get out.”

Her gaze darts past your shoulder, scanning the woods, the glow of flashlights and the crackle of radios growing closer. You hear boots on gravel, the slam of car doors, someone yelling coordinates into a walkie.

Kate shifts her weight, pressing in closer until you’re practically pinned between her and the wall. It’s the only way to keep you still—and to keep you hidden. Her breath brushes your cheek, warm despite the cold night air, but you’re still shaking like a leaf from adrenaline.

“Listen. They’re sweeping the block. They’ve got dogs. They’ll flush you out if you move.”

She presses her forehead to yours, just for a second, and you catch that faint scent of copper and cheap perfume—the only things Kate ever smells like. Familiar. Comforting, in a twisted way.

“I’m going to get you out of this,” she says, low, deadly calm. “But if you fuck around right now, they’ll rip you apart before I can.”

The weight of those words sinks straight into your bones. There’s no softness in her tone, no sympathy—but you know she means it. Kate doesn’t say anything she won’t back up with violence.

Your hands are still shaking, so she takes your gun, slides it into her own belt, then checks your side where you’re bleeding through your clothes. Her fingers are quick, clinical, more soldier than friend.

“You’re sloppy tonight,” she growls. “Next time, finish the job quiet.”

You choke out a harsh, mirthless laugh. “Next time?”

Her eyes twitch, not quite a smile—but close. “After this fuck up? No way you’re going alone again.”

You feel like you should smile, should say something moderately funny to offset the tension, but there’s no time.

A sudden burst of light washes over the far side of the shed, voices getting too close. Kate’s hand clamps around your wrist and she pulls you hard, almost dislocating your shoulder as she drags you around the corner. You stumble, nearly crashing into a pile of rotting firewood, but she steadies you with a sharp tug.

“Stay behind me,” she hisses.

Her knife is in her other hand now, glinting with a hungry sort of certainty. Kate is violence incarnate—you’ve always known that. And in this moment, you realize you trust her more than you trust yourself—put more faith in her abilities than you ever could your own.

She moves through the yard like a shadow, pulling you with her. You barely even breathe. Police radio static crackles through the night, so close you can taste it, but Kate doesn’t flinch.

“They’ll move on,” she murmurs. “They’re just pigs.”

A dog barks from the next block, loud and savage, but Kate doesn’t even blink. She keeps you pressed tight against her side, fingers wrapped tight around your wrist, steady and sure.

“When this is over,” she whispers, eyes locked on yours, “you're going to tell me exactly what happened. We’re gonna work it out, alright?”

Your mouth goes dry. You want to ask what she means, but part of you already knows: the blood, the kill, the thrill of being hunted and surviving—she’ll share it with you next time. Not because she forgives you. But because she understands you.

Because you’re the same.

Kate never lets go of your wrist. It’s like being handcuffed to a wild dog—every motion is sharp, deliberate, an unspoken follow or die.

You track through the neighborhood one yard at a time, moving between crumbling fences and backyard sheds, through darkness so thick it feels like syrup. The police are still sweeping the area, but Kate knows how to work the angles—she times every dash, every crossing of a street, with a kind of terrifying precision.

At one point, you both freeze behind a trash bin while a patrol car coasts past. The floodlight bounces across the garbage, catching your sleeve. Kate pushes you down so hard your knees scrape concrete, her hand planted across your mouth.

“Stay still.”

The car idles. Your heartbeat slams so hard you think it might explode—but Kate holds you there, steady, like a soldier on a leash. The engine finally roars off, leaving you with only the far-off drone of sirens and your ragged breathing.

“Move.”

She doesn’t wait for you to stand; she hauls you back up and pulls you along, boots whispering across patchy grass and cracked driveways.

The neighborhood finally falls behind. Houses get fewer, spaced farther apart, until you cross a drainage ditch and land back in raw woods. The sounds of police radios fade behind the first stand of deep pines.

The world feels colder out here—older. Like the trees themselves are judging you, rooting for your pursuers.

Kate glances back, scanning the treeline, her jaw set. “They’ll call in a perimeter. I know the pattern,” she mutters. “We’ll cut south and stay under the trees.”

You nod, even though your legs are about to give out. Blood from the bullet wound seeps down into your waistband, hot and sticky. Kate notices—of course she does—but just shakes her head, refusing to slow down.

“You’ll make it,” she says. “I’ll drag you if I have to.”

That sounds like her. The scariest part is that you believe she would.

You march together for what feels like hours, winding deeper into the forest. Eventually, the sound of running water cuts through the night—a muddy stream clogged with weeds. Kate pulls you to the bank, practically throws you into the water.

“Wash it off,” she orders. “Blood trail’s too easy to follow.”

“Are you serious?”

She only gives you a sideways look, the kind of thing a tiger does when observing its meat, daring the prey to move further before it jumps.

You bite back a groan as you kneel down next to the stream, lifting your shirt up above the wound. It’s not big, just a bullet graze deep enough to draw blood, but it’s enough to soak into your clothing. You cup your hands, the cold water hits your wounds, but you scrub the worst of the blood away, water swirling dark when you go to cup for more. Kate wipes your face roughly with her sleeve, smearing a streak of mud off your cheek.

“Better.” It’s a word that shouldn’t sound kind coming from her lips, but somehow does.

The night only grows blacker. Pines cluster overhead so tightly you can barely see stars. You walk in silence, every branch that cracks under your boots making you flinch. Kate, meanwhile, is as calm as ever—stepping over logs, ducking low branches, checking over her shoulder every few minutes.

It’s only when you break out of the treeline onto a wide, overgrown field that she finally slows down. A pale, half-collapsed shed stands in the middle of it, half-swallowed by weeds and tangled vines. A rusted tractor skeleton leans against its side.

Kate points. “There.”

You follow her across the field, every step feeling heavier than the last. By the time you reach the shed’s door, you’re half-dead on your feet. Kate pulls it open with a loud creak, then motions you inside.

It smells like rotting hay and oil. Mice scatter from the corners. Moonlight trickles through holes in the roof, falling in sickly pale pools.

You both tumble inside, Kate dragging the rickety door shut behind her like the latch-lock on the upper side was going to help keep anyone out.

Kate posted herself by the doorway, silhouette framed by jagged moonlight through a broken panel. You let your eyes drift from her to the shadows inside the shed—rusting tools, splintered shelves, the heavy scent of dust and rotting grain clinging to the stale air. The quiet, after all that screaming and gunfire, felt alien.

You shifted over to the adjacent wall, leaning your weight back as the wood groaned, wincing at the pull of the bullet graze along your side. The adrenaline was crashing hard now, leaving a sickly hollow ache behind. You caught yourself shivering, even in the muggy air, as the memory of the kill replayed behind your eyes—the way the bastard’s face caved, the sticky spray across your knuckles, the voice that still begged even after you’d decided there was no mercy left in you.

Kate’s eyes flicked over, reading you as easily as always. She didn’t soften; she never did. But something in the way she stepped closer, boots crunching straw, told you she wasn’t going to let you spiral.

“Let me have a look now,” she said simply, nodding to your wound.

You hesitated, but she was already lifting your arm, fingers under the hem of your shirt, peeling away the half-clotted mess. Her hands were rough, efficient, like every second of delay was an insult to her skills. You hissed when she pressed her sleeve against the torn flesh, and she didn’t apologize—just steadied your shoulder with a firm grip.

“Lucky,” she muttered, eyeing the angry, bruised skin. “Half an inch deeper and you’d be eating dirt right now.”

You tried to laugh, but it came out hoarse.

“Could’ve been worse,” you croaked, and Kate’s smirk was as dry and humorless as ever.

“It usually is.”

Her sleeve came away dark with blood, you felt bad. She stepped off of you, shuffling around rotting crates and rusted tool boxes until she found a dish rag stuffed into an old lockbox and some used duct tape in the plastic containers on the shelves. She sauntered back over, folding the rag and pressing it to your wound, then tearing a strip of the duct tape and splaying it out across your ribs. It was gaudy, and definitely going to give you some sort of infection, but it would work to stop the bleeding for now.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

In the dim, you could see her studying you again, that deep, animal calculation that made even your closest allies hesitate. But instead of judgment, you saw recognition—like she understood that ugly fury still boiling under your skin, because it was the same one carved into her bones.

“We’ll stay here tonight,” she ordered, voice quiet but absolute. “No way we can track back to the mansion like this. I need daylight.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but she was already moving, repositioning a length of rusted pipe across the door as a makeshift lock. The night beyond was deathly still now, police sirens faded so far they were only a ghost on the breeze.

Something about that silence crawled under your skin—too empty, too forgiving after what you’d done. But exhaustion hit you like a mallet anyway, and you sank against a crate thrown on the dusty ground, the world swimming.

Kate’s silhouette paced the tiny floor space, restless and sharp, a predator refusing to settle even with prey long since dead.

The shed had gone quiet except for the occasional rustle of field mice in the hay, the only right the hard moonlight soaking in through the cracks, stretching and widening the shadows. Kate’s boots clicked against the old wood floor as she paced, her knife flicking in restless little arcs with every turn. The silence weighed on you, too heavy to ignore, pressing until your breathing felt trapped in your chest.

Finally, you broke.

“I wasn’t supposed to kill him.” The words scraped out raw, throat still scorched from running and screaming. “We needed him to talk. I—I lost it.”

Kate paused mid-step, eyes narrowing. “Yeah,” she bit out, “you did. You were sloppy.”

It punched through your ribs sharper than a bullet, but you didn’t look away. “He laughed at me, Kate,” you forced out, voice cracking. “He laughed. Said I didn’t have it in me. That he’d gut me and send my teeth back as a message.”

Kate’s jaw tightened, the blade in her hand dancing again as she flipped it over and over, muscle memory perfect and deadly. “And you proved him wrong.”

You flinched. “We needed him to talk.”

She exhaled through her nose, rough, almost a growl. “Yeah,” she admitted, pacing another line across the floor, “we did. But…” She paused, glaring at the half-rotted wall, then turned back to you. “I’ve had targets like that. You think you can keep it together, keep it clean. Then they push that one button and it’s like something snaps inside. Happens to all of us.”

You let your head tip back against the crate, eyes tracing the cracks in the ceiling. “It shouldn’t have happened to me.”

Kate snorted softly, a humorless, broken sound. “You think you’re above it?” she asked, tone still razor-edged. “I’ve seen Masky absolutely tear his hair out over not being able to stay calm. Seen Hoodie stare at a dead body for an hour because he felt so bad. You’re working for the Operator. There is no ‘above it.’ There’s alive or dead, and that’s the whole list.”

You swallowed the burn in your throat. “I wanted to do it right. I wanted—”

“To do it clean,” Kate interrupted, stepping closer, her pacing slowing. “You wanted to look like you had control. But control is a lie.”

Your gaze met hers then, and for the first time since she’d dragged you off the street, there was no judgment in her face—only a hard, weary understanding.

“I killed my first target with a hammer,” she admitted, voice low, almost lost under the hiss of the wind through the boards. “Slammed him so hard the handle snapped. I was supposed to bring him back for interrogation, but…” She shrugged, eyes far away for a heartbeat. “I saw him smile at me. Like I was just some kid. And I just… stopped caring.”

You blinked, surprise breaking through the shame churning in your gut. “Kate—”

“Don’t,” she cut in, but this time there was no bite to it. She finally lowered the knife, letting her arm fall slack at her side, shoulders sagging. “You think you’re a monster now?”

Your breath trembled. “Yeah.”

A tiny, almost gentle snort. “Good,” she said, voice soft, quiet in a way only you ever heard from her. “That means you’re still human.”

She walked over and sat beside you, the floor creaking under her weight, knees bumping yours. The knife stayed on the floor between you, a silent truce.

You looked down at your hands, still stained under your nails, still carrying phantom blood. Kate followed your gaze, then reached over and took one of them, holding it steady in her rough grip.

“Next time,” she said, steady, anchoring, “I’ll be there faster. You won’t have to hold back alone.”

Your eyes burned, but you bit down the sob before it could get loose.

“You’re not done,” she continued, leaning back so she could scan the doorway, ever the watchful eye even in this tiny moment of peace. “You’re shaken, you’re hurt, but you’re not finished. Remember that.”

You nodded, swallowing hard, letting her words root themselves somewhere deeper than the panic.

Kate leaned her head against the wall, close enough you could feel the warmth of her shoulder against yours. “We’ll wait here until they move the search. Then we go home.”

“Home,” you echoed, almost a laugh, but it died in your throat.

Kate smirked faintly. “Yeah,” she said, voice quieter than you’d ever heard it, “home.”

The night breathed around you, and finally, after everything, the two of you let yourselves sit in silence, side by side, the world outside still hunting—but for a few precious hours, unable to touch you.

Kate’s hand stayed wrapped around yours, her grip warm, grounding—so unlike the harsh commands she’d barked all night. Without warning, she shifted closer, pulling you until your shoulder pressed hard against her chest. The knife stayed forgotten on the floor as her other arm came around you, tight, protective, something almost desperate behind the way she held on.

She rested her chin against your hair for a moment, breathing you in, and then with a short, frustrated huff, she reached up to tug at the mask. The battered, blood-smeared plastic clattered to the floor, landing by her boots. Her face, so rarely seen, was softer than you remembered—sharp cheekbones, a scar cutting across her jaw, those cold eyes warmer now in the half-light.

“Look at me,” she murmured, voice husky, and you did, blinking through the burn of exhaustion and shame.

Kate’s thumb traced over your cheek, smearing grime and tears away. “You did good,” she said, firm, unyielding, as if daring you to argue. “You hear me? You did good. You made the call you had to make.”

Your throat threatened to close again. “I—”

But Kate didn’t let you finish. “No,” she cut in, voice dropping to something dangerous and low. “No more apologies. You survived, you kept your head, you got out. That’s good enough.”

Your eyes blurred, and you tried to look away, but her hand came up, fingers curling under your jaw, forcing you to hold her gaze.

“That’s good enough for me,” she breathed, the edge of a ragged sweetness cracking through her solidified discipline, “and it should be good enough for you.”

Before you could even find your next breath, her lips were at your temple, brushing warm against the skin there, then lower, grazing your cheekbone in a whisper of a kiss. You shuddered, leaning into her almost on instinct, your body screaming for comfort you hadn’t dared to want. Heat raised from your chest, an almost blistering flush on your cheeks.

Kate’s grip around your waist tightened, hauling you flush against her. Her mouth moved lower, skimming down your jaw, breath hot, the scrape of her nose against your neck making you jump.

“You’re perfect,” she whispered into your skin, every syllable a rough promise. “You’re not going to break on me, not tonight, not ever. I won’t let you.”

The warmth of her mouth met the side of your throat, a slow, burning kiss that made your pulse trip. You could barely process one sensation before the next followed—her lips open, tongue darting, teeth just skimming your pulse point in a bruising mark that sent a jolt all the way through your spine.

“Kate—” you tried, a gasp, but she just shushed you softly, dragging another kiss lower, then back up, repeating that dangerous pattern until you couldn’t breathe straight.

“You did so good,” she whispered between kisses, voice breaking over you like a benediction. “So damn good, don’t ever doubt it.”

One of her hands roamed up your ribs, careful not to brush your bandaged wound, strong and sure, tracing circles into your side while her other arm cradled your head. It felt like being pulled apart and held together at the same time, the rough security of her presence mingling with the heat of each lingering kiss.

“Breathe,” she commanded, mouth ghosting over your collarbone. “Come on, just relax for me.”

And you did—ragged, shaking, tears slipping free as every bit of panic and horror you’d bottled up poured out under her relentless, gentle destruction. Her mouth found your throat again, open and wet and claiming, and her fingers dug into your hip like she’d never let go.

“Kate,” you choked, overwhelmed, but she just pressed her forehead to yours, breathing hard, eyes locked to yours in an unspoken promise.

“I’ve got you,” she murmured, steady as iron. “I’ve always got you.”

Her lips claimed yours before you could reply, desperate and deep, breaking you open until nothing was left but the taste of blood and salt and her. You melted against her, letting her steal every doubt and fear with each bruising, perfect kiss, the night outside fading until there were only pitiful whimpers and breathy reassurances—all sharp edges and impossible safety, carrying you through the dread.

Kate pulled back just far enough to study you, eyes glittering darkly, catching every ragged tremor in your breath. Her hand came back to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing over your lips like she was memorizing the shape of your weakness.

“You’re still trying to hold on, aren’t you?” she rasped, voice low, dangerous, something feral under it.

You shivered, pulse stumbling at the accusation.

Kate’s smirk curved slow, wolfish. “Trying to keep from breaking,” she continued, leaning in until her mouth hovered against yours, so close you could taste her words, “even after everything. After you tore that man apart with your own hands.”

Her breath ghosted over your lips, making your body jolt with a need you’d barely let yourself feel.

“You want to own it now, don’t you?” she goaded, tone almost mocking, but twisted with a strange, brutal affection. “You want to feel like you’re in charge again.”

Your fingers dug into the front of her dark hoodie, knuckles white, but she only laughed—a dark, hungry sound that made your cheeks burn.

“Then take it,” she growled, crashing her mouth to yours again, teeth clacking, rough and claiming.

It broke something in you, the last thread of caution snapping clean. Your hands fumbled at her gear, yanking open straps, fighting with buckles, wanting her closer, wanting skin, anything that wasn’t hard fabric and bloodstains. Kate didn’t resist—she shoved back just enough to drag the hem of your shirt up, shoving the fabric off your arms and over your head, her hands already roaming the new bare skin like she owned it.

“You think you can control me?” she breathed against your lips, biting your lower one until you moaned. “Control this?” Her hands were everywhere, pushing you back until your spine hit the floorboards, pinning you there with a knee between your thighs, knocking her knife away until it hit against the opposite wall.

You swallowed a curse, gasping when she ground her leg against your center, electric heat flooding your nerves and making your hips jerk.

Kate leaned down, breath coming hard, hair falling around her face in a black curtain, pupils blown wide with need. “You can try,” she rasped, fingers curling in your waistband, “but you’ll never win.”

You arched into her, every nerve singing, desperate, mind fracturing with the way her hands kept stealing any scrap of composure. She tore open the button on your pants, and you clawed at her belt in return, fighting to peel it off. You needed her skin on yours, needed it now.

Clothing was discarded in jagged motions, ripped seams and impatient curses, pants dragged down your thighs and her hoodie hauled over her head. The chill of the night air hit your bare skin, goosebumps rising, but Kate’s mouth was there to burn them away, tongue and teeth mapping you with a feverish devotion. She hauled off your shoes, tearing your pants off the rest of the way and tossing them behind her. She smiled at your mismatched bra and panties, curling in on yourself, trying not to react to the way she bit her lip.

She stood up then, all heavy breathing and lean muscles running up her arms. You watched with heavy eyes, staring up at her as she pulled her belt from the loops, dropping the leather to the floor. You leaned up on your elbows. The sound made you twitch, whining when she slowly opened the button of her jeans, kicking off her boots.

“Don’t look so desperate,” she grinned like a cat, then pushed off her jeans, stepping out of them. You could’ve drooled at the way her boxer briefs hugged her hips, strong thighs and tight muscles making your stomach flutter with need. Her sports bra accentuated the curve of her chest, making her look like a horny fever-dream in the moonlight, every angle and curve of her body highlighted with the white light.

She pushed you down, hard enough to make the old wood creak, then followed, straddling your hips with a bruising grip. Her hand slid around your throat, not squeezing, just there—a terrifying promise you couldn’t help but lean into.

“Look at you,” she hissed, biting down on the edge of your jaw, “trying so hard to be in control, but you’re shaking for me.”

You tried to answer, but her hand tightened just slightly, forcing a ragged, hungry gasp from you instead.

“Say it,” Kate demanded, rolling her hips down so you could feel the wet patch growing in her boxers, sending sparks crashing through your bones. “Say you need me to make everything better.”

“I—” you tried, but your voice broke, caught between a sob and a moan.

Kate’s mouth was at your ear, voice molten and dangerous. “Say it.”

“I need you,” you choked, the words spilling out like a confession, raw and unfiltered.

Kate growled in triumph, claiming your mouth again, all teeth and heat, dragging her nails down your sides until you writhed. You clutched at her, pulling her closer, refusing to give an inch even as she devoured you. “Yeah? Need me to save you? Need me to make everything better?”

“I do—” you panted into her mouth, biting at her lips and running your hands up into her hair.

She chuckled, “Good.”

It was all a blur of movements, Kate shoving you off, sitting up before she turned herself around, straddling your chest with her back facing you. You almost freaked, ready to question what she was doing before she was bending over, the swell of her ass in your face.

She pushed open your legs, her chest pressing against your abdomen as she pressed her arms between your thighs, opening you up for her to press her face down to your core, humming in approval at the wet state she found your panties in.

It was only when she ran her fingers against the fabric of your panties did you understand what was happening. Her legs planted on either side of your head, your hands coming around them to pull her closer, face-first with her clothed center. You could’ve died right there.

“You want control right? Want to feel powerful? Then take it. Don’t make me beg you.”

You groaned, reaching over the swell of her ass to pull her boxers down, eyes blowing wide when her glistening cunt pressed closer to your face. You obeyed, pulling her closer, burying your face against the heat of her thighs. Kate’s responding moan was ragged, full of dark satisfaction, her hands fisting in your thighs as she shifted, lining her dripping cunt above your mouth.

At the same time, she leaned forward, bracing herself on the floor, tugging your panties to the side with a desperate fist, until her mouth was at your core, a mirror to the hunger you felt, hot breath against your twitching clit.

You both froze for a breath, overwhelmed by the raw, perfect tension. Then Kate laughed, low and delighted.

“Don’t hold back,” she rasped, and before you could answer, her mouth was on you, tongue greedy and hot and merciless.

You cried out, muffled by the slick heat of her above you, but you didn’t falter. You pulled her hips down, dragging your tongue through her folds and licking her open, tasting her, worshipping her with every hungry pull of your mouth.

Kate swore, the sound breaking, hips grinding down against your tongue as her own mouth worked you with savage precision.

“Fuck—” she gasped, the vibration of her voice sinking into your core, “just like that—don’t stop.”

It was a brutal, desperate rhythm, the two of you devouring each other, hips grinding, hands clawing at whatever you could reach. Kate’s thighs trembled against your face, slick and perfect, while you felt her mouth dragging you higher, higher, tearing you apart with each filthy, perfect stroke.

You couldn’t tell whose voice was whose anymore, the moans tangled, ragged, echoing in the tiny shed. The smell of sweat, sex, and old dust made it all dizzying, animal, real.

Kate bit down on your thigh hard enough to leave a bruise, drawing a strangled scream from you, but you didn’t stop—you sucked harder, lashed your tongue against her clit until she was shaking so badly she had to brace herself on the hardwood.

You fucked your tongue into her cunt, her hips riding your jaw like she couldn’t stop herself, like your tongue was tearing her open. She followed, her fist tugging your panties further to the side as her free hand circled your clit.

You felt her spit onto your cunt, your clit twitching under the pressure as she rubbed the spit into your wetness. You nearly came when she pushed her fingers into your entrance, giving you barely any time to adjust before her lips were wrapping around your clit and sucking you for all you were worth. Your hips bucked up into her, her fingers curling and scissoring you open while she lapped up every drop that oozed out of you.

You kept up, groaning every sound of approval into her cunt, fucking your tongue into her until her ass was jerking, bouncing her hips as you followed her every move.

“Fuck,” she snarled, voice gone almost raw, “you’re gonna make me—shit—don’t you dare stop—”

You didn’t. You let go completely, losing yourself in the taste and heat and rawness, and the moment she came, it tore through her like a wildfire. Kate screamed, bucking so hard you had to hold her steady, grinding down on your mouth while she shuddered apart.

The second you felt her break, you gripped her ass, forcing her onto your mouth as you drank ever squeal and whine that spilled from her lips, soaking your tongue as she clamped around you. She let her hips jerk, until they fizzled into spasms, panting against your cunt. Kate was still trembling, breath hot and uneven against your skin, when you felt something in you snap. A hungry, aching need to own this moment, to take it back, to burn away everything that had gone wrong tonight.

You shifted, rolling Kate onto her back before she could even catch her breath. Her eyes widened, pupils blown, lips still slick and parted.

“Wha—” she started, but you didn’t give her a chance to question you.

You swung your leg over her, straddling her, your body still shaking but your hands sure. Kate’s surprised grin was immediate, the kind of feral grin that dared you to take what you wanted.

“Oh?” she rasped, voice hoarse, “my girl wants more?”

You didn’t answer with words. You shifted back until you were over her mouth, grabbing the old wood of the shed’s wall to steady yourself. Kate’s hands immediately came up to hold your hips, fingers biting into your skin with possessive force.

Her breath was hot against you, and you shivered as she looked up, eyes glinting with pride and want.

“Then fucking take it,” she growled, and her tongue was on you again, greedy and brutal, dragging a cry straight from your throat.

Your hips rolled down, desperate, grinding against her mouth until you saw stars. Kate groaned against you, guiding you harder against her tongue, her hands pinning you in place with the strength of a killer—ironic.

You couldn’t hold back—your body moved on instinct, chasing that edge with a violence that felt almost holy, grinding down against her again and again. The shed rattled with each movement, old metal tools clanging somewhere in the background, but all you heard was your own ragged breathing and Kate’s dark, hungry moans.

She didn’t let up for a second, devouring you, tongue working with ruthless precision until your thighs were trembling, your voice breaking on every breath.

“Fuck, Kate—” you gasped, your hands scrabbling against the wall, “don’t—don’t stop—Make me cum.”

She laughed against you, a low, possessive sound, and pulled you down harder, refusing to let you escape her mouth. Your grabbed at the chest, her ribs, clawing your fingers from her abdomen to her throat as you fucked yourself down onto her, dragging your hips with one roll of her tongue after the other. You could feel it, the desperate, animalistic pull of your core, the heat teetering at the edge, until it was just too good—

You came apart for her, body locking up, your entire mind blanking out under the intensity. Kate held you steady through it, not letting you move away until you were sobbing, breathless and boneless above her, her tongue still dipping inside and lapping up drop after dropped that soaked onto her lips.

When your arms gave out and your stomach couldn’t hold yourself up any longer, she finally let go of your hips.

She let you collapse to the side, crawling over you and dragging you into her arms, her lips swollen and slick with you. She kissed you, messy and unhurried, her fingers still tracing patterns on your oversensitive thighs as you both tasted each other on your tongues.

“There you go,” she whispered, pride dripping from every word, “taking back control. That’s my girl.”

You buried your face in her neck, heart pounding, the last traces of fear and failure finally burned away.

With Kate, you could be as wild and reckless as you wanted—and she’d always be there, hungry enough to catch you. Ready enough to face whatever fucked up problems you had, and would be more than ready to make you face them.

And it didn’t matter how hopeless you felt, because she would always be right there—with sharp eyes and steady hands, her heartbeat locked in time with yours, ready to pull you out of the dark every time you slipped, ready to chase away the monsters even if you were one of them.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ CLOCKWORK

“Get down.”

A hand shot out of the shadows, fingers iron-strong around your wrist, dragging you back so hard you nearly lost your footing. You hit the wall of an old shed with a breathless thud, instincts screaming, gun half-raised—but before you could pull the trigger, your eyes met a familiar, glinting clock-face grin.

“Natalie—”

She stepped from the shadows like a specter, copper hair glinting under the streetlights, eye like split green glass fixed on yours with terrifying precision. That clock set into her socket ticked steady, a hypnotic, terrifying constant, and the weight of her fists promised she could rebuild you—or tear you apart—at a moment’s notice.

“Easy,” she hissed, one palm clamping over your mouth as her mismatched eyes darted past you, scanning the darkness where sirens wailed and red-blue lights cut through the trees like a curse. “Don’t you fucking move.”

Your heart slammed in your ribs, adrenaline biting at every nerve. You could still taste the metallic tang of blood in your mouth, still see the shattered remains of that bastard. You’d lost control, and now the cops were here, too close, too loud.

Natalie’s breath burned against your ear, her mechanical eye clicking as she focused. “How many?” she growled, her voice low and lethal, like the grind of a blade against bone.

“Six—seven,” you gasped against her palm. “Two on foot, rest in cars.”

She scowled, fingers flexing around your wrist. “Fuck,” she snapped. “Come on.”

Then she was hauling you forward, leaving no room to argue, boots pounding hard through wet leaves and broken fencing. You tore after her, lungs screaming, legs shaking with exhaustion and leftover rage. Every time you stumbled, she yanked you upright, refusing to let you collapse. You hopped cracking sidewalks and the bones of fences that barely held the barking dogs behind them.

Past the tree line, the flashing cop lights bled into the night behind you, and then the world opened up—a rust-bitten old gas station, long boarded shut, weeds growing tall around shattered pumps. Clockwork barely slowed, steering you around the side, where a battered old pickup crouched low in the dark like a patient animal. Her truck, the one that she had fixed up herself and played music in so loud the mirrors shook. She was supposed to drive you back to the mansion after you finished, you were supposed to meet back up here, not get dragged and have your heart aching from adrenaline.

“Get in,” she ordered, yanking the passenger door open.

You didn’t hesitate. The second your boots hit the cab floor, Natalie was in after you, slamming the door and twisting the key in a rattling ignition. You winced, grabbing your side and gritting your teeth when blood stained your palm. The engine coughed, then roared to life, headlights cutting a pale wound into the night.

“Hold on,” she barked, throwing the truck into reverse.

Tires skidded, mud and gravel spraying as she spun you around, then tore out across the overgrown lot, aiming for the crumbling highway beyond.

Your pulse still refused to settle, vision sparking from shock and fury, hands twitching where they braced against the dash. She was laser-focused on the road, jaw clenched, mechanical eye sweeping left to right like a predator scanning for threats.

“Talk to me,” she snapped over the engine’s growl. “What the hell happened?”

You swallowed, trying to shove the blood-soaked images out of your head. “He—he wouldn’t talk, Nat. Wouldn’t give up the data. I tried to scare him, but—” Your voice cracked, shame cutting through the high. “I lost it. I couldn’t stop. There was so much blood—”

She didn’t even flinch, hands steady on the wheel, eyes catching yours for a fraction of a second. “You lost control,” she said flatly, as if reading a grocery list, not judging, just knowing.

You nodded, throat tight.

Her lips twitched, a dark little smirk breaking across her features. “Good.”

Your head snapped toward her. “What?”

Clockwork’s good eye stayed forward, but the edge of her grin was vicious. “He deserved worse. You went too far, yeah—but you came back. You ran. That means you’re still thinking, not just killing on a spree.”

You swallowed hard, a shaky breath catching in your lungs.

Natalie’s voice dropped, soft, dangerous. “Means I can still work with you. Means you’ve still got your head on your shoulders.”

The truck hit a pothole, bouncing you in your seat, but she never lost control. Never. It did, however, make you wince when your wound pulled open just a bit.

Past the broken highway, the woods turned to open fields and crumbling barns, no lights, no sirens. Safe—for now.

Natalie finally let the speed bleed away, pulling off the main road into a half-dead cornfield, where she killed the headlights and let the engine idle. Night swallowed you both, thick and heavy, only your harsh breathing breaking the silence.

She looked at you then, really looked, eyes scanning every fleck of blood and dirt on your face, the tremor in your hands. Slowly, deliberately, she reached over, clicking her cold, mechanical fingers against your jaw, tilting your head toward her.

“You’re bleeding,” she hummed, the edge of panic hidden but not gone.

You followed her gaze, down to where a warm, sticky heat had been blooming across your ribs, too drowned out by adrenaline to fully take a moment to handle it. When you pulled up your shirt, the wound was gushing spurts of blood.

“Shit,” you muttered, wincing.

Clockwork’s jaw tensed, her scar twitching. “Did the guy do it?”

“No,” you gasped, trying to peel your shirt away from the wound. It burned like hell, but didn’t feel deep—a graze. “Bullet clipped me.”

“Alright.” She slammed the brakes, hard enough to make you lurch forward in your seat. The truck skidded onto a shoulder lined with dead grass, pulling through a gap in the trees and settling behind a row of branches and bushes, just out of sight to any drivers passing.

Without a word, she twisted around, popping open the glove compartment and tossing you a battered green metal box. “First aid kit. Clean it before it gets all over my seats,” she ordered, as if there wasn’t stain after mysterious stain on the fabric already.

You hesitated, chest still rising and falling in ragged bursts. Natalie reached over, hooking a finger under your chin and forcing you to meet her eyes, her grip cold and unyielding.

“Do it,” she growled, “before you pass out on me.”

You swallowed hard and nodded, fumbling the latch of the kit open. Gauze, tape, a half-used roll of bandages—it felt clumsy and distant in your shaking hands, but you did what you could, pressing antiseptic pads to the torn skin.

Clockwork stayed close, one hand still on your chin, the other gripping the back of your seat, refusing to let you fold in on yourself. Her breathing was shallow, mechanical eye flicking over every move you made.

“You’re lucky it was a graze,” she rasped, voice steadier now but lined with something like fury. “If that bullet had gone an inch deeper—”

Her words cut off, teeth clacking shut, like she couldn’t let herself finish the thought.

You looked up at her, trying to laugh, though it came out strangled. “Since when do you worry about me?”

Natalie’s mouth twitched, something raw sparking in her mismatched gaze. “Since you decided to massacre someone in the middle of a suburban neighborhood,” she shot back, but the bite was duller, softened by the way her thumb brushed your jaw.

You slumped back against the seat, breath rattling in your lungs, the makeshift bandage clinging to your side. The sting of antiseptic was nothing compared to the jagged guilt clawing at your throat. The memories wouldn’t leave you alone—the target’s face, twisted in terror, the way your hands had felt when you tore them apart. You were supposed to get information, not slaughter him like an animal.

Your fingers twitched, still stained red. You couldn’t stop seeing it.

Natalie was watching you, good eye sharp, reading every flicker of pain across your face. You couldn’t hide from her, even if you tried.

“I shouldn’t have lost it,” you blurted out, voice cracking. “He was just supposed to talk—I was supposed to make him talk. And then I couldn’t stop, Nat. I couldn’t fucking stop—”

Your words spiraled out of you, messy and shaking. “I should be better than this, but I’m not. I’m a monster. I am what they say I am.”

Your head dropped into your hands, hot tears burning down your cheeks, smearing the dirt and blood in streaks.

For a long moment, Natalie didn’t speak. The truck engine ticked softly, cooling in the silence. Then she shifted forward, reaching out, gentle in a way that was so alien it broke you all over again. She brushed your hair back from your face, fingertips cold where skin met skin.

“You listen to me,” she murmured, voice steady, strong, like steel. “You are better than this. You had a moment—a moment. That’s all. Don’t let that define you.”

You tried to turn away, but she wouldn’t let you, catching your chin in her palm and forcing your eyes back to hers.

“You hear me?” she repeated, softer, close enough you could feel her breath. “You are more than your worst night.”

You choked on another sob, fresh tears spilling over, but Clockwork was already there, wiping them away with the edge of her thumb, brushing every drop aside with meticulous care. Her expression was fierce, protective, unbearably tender.

“You did what you had to,” she breathed, leaning closer until her lips grazed your temple. “And you came back. You came back to me. That’s what matters.”

Your body trembled, still half-shattered under the weight of everything, but her warmth pulled you back from the brink.

Then, gently, she started to kiss your tears away, mouth brushing soft over your cheekbones, the tip of your nose, each little trail of salt. You shivered, swallowing a sob, helpless under the delicate press of her lips.

Her hand moved from your jaw to the back of your neck, tugging you closer until your foreheads touched, her other hand still cradling your side like she could take the pain for you.

And then she kissed you.

It was slow, deep, claiming, like she was rewriting the taste of blood with her own mouth, trying to replace the screams with something sweeter. You leaned into it, desperate, letting her steal the weight of the night right off your shoulders.

Her fingers tangled in your hair, guiding you deeper, tongue teasing against yours until your breathing turned ragged. You felt everything in that kiss: her forgiveness, her want, her absolute refusal to let you drown.

When she finally pulled away, she kept you close, her nose brushing yours.

“Don’t you ever run from me again,” she whispered, voice raw, eyes locked to yours. “We carry this shit together, you hear me?”

You nodded, tears still shimmering, heart pounding wildly in your chest.

Natalie didn’t let you go, her lips tracing yours with a dark sort of sweetness, letting you breathe for half a second before pulling you right back under. The taste of her, the bite of metal against your skin, was a lifeline—and you clung to it like you might drown without her.

But underneath the relief, there was still a wildfire of rage and fear, a shaking need to do something, to feel something stronger than regret. You kissed her harder, teeth clacking, a low whimper tearing out of your chest as you pressed closer.

Natalie didn’t flinch. Her grin was dangerous, pupil blown wide, her mechanical iris ticking in wild little jolts as you practically devoured her.

“Yeah,” she breathed, breaking away for a second, voice hoarse. “Let it out. Don’t hold back on me.”

She bit your bottom lip as she spoke, dragging you across the console, not caring when your thigh slammed into the gearshift. You let out a surprised yelp, but she only laughed, a rough sound that made your blood burn.

Her hands were on you. She pushed out of her seat, sliding across the console and into the backseat, dragging you over her lap and back with her, the truck rocking with the motion. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, too consumed by the taste of her mouth and the harsh, desperate way her hands were tearing at your clothes as you straddled her lap.

“C’mere,” she growled, gripping the hem of your ruined shirt and yanking it up, exposing the angry bandage and the blood-streaked skin around it. She paused, eyes darting over the wound, something protective flashing there—but then her lips were on your ribs, kissing carefully around the bandage, biting at unbroken skin, leaving marks you’d feel for days.

You moaned, the sound ripped out of you, back arching as her cold, calloused hand slid up your spine. You ground down on her lap, tightening your hands on the seat behind her, dragging your rapidly twitching center across her jeans.

“That’s it,” she praised, lips brushing hot against your sternum. “Give it to me—all of it. I can take it.”

It shattered something in you.

Your fingers tangled in her messy hair, yanking hard, pulling her mouth back to yours in a bruising kiss that left you both gasping. Her hands roamed lower, squeezing your ass, dragging you flush to her until you could feel the button of her jeans under you.

You ground down against her thigh, clumsy and desperate, half-crazed with the need to burn the horror out of your veins.

Natalie held you there, voice low and taunting against your ear. “That’s my girl. Can’t control it, huh? You want to take it back, don’t you?”

You whimpered, nails digging into her shoulders. “Yes—”

She chuckled, dark and sweet. “Then take it. You’re angry? Upset? Take it out on me, let me have it.”

She shoved you back, letting you sprawl across the cracked leather of the back seat, then followed, caging you in with her hands on either side of your head. Her weight pinned you down, stealing your breath, making your pulse thunder.

Her mouth went lower, kissing down your stomach, tongue flicking at the edge of your waistband, hands already tugging at it with a violence that made you gasp. You pushed against her shoulders, trying to breathe, but she only pinned you harder, eyes flashing.

“Don’t run from this,” she growled against your skin. “Don’t run from me.”

Then she was tearing the rest of your clothes away, popping open the button of your pants and dragging them down to your ankles, shoving your shoes off with them. You hauled your shirt over your head, Natalie growling when you went to reach for your bra next.

It was a flash of movement and she was dragging your panties off, giving you barely a moment to breathe before she was hauling her own shirt off. You looked wide-eyed up at her, leaving you bare and exposed, but somehow safer than you’d felt in hours. Her hands mapped every inch of you, cold and demanding, grounding you in their steadiness. Her bra hugged her body tight, heavy breathing stretching the fabric, but the only thing you could think was—you needed to tear it off.

You felt your mind blur, the grief, the rage, the guilt—all of it funneling into the wild, reckless heat between you. You needed to feel her, to mark her the way she was marking you, to lose yourself in the violence of wanting.

She kissed you again, deep and possessive, swallowing the last of your broken cries, her hands leaving bruises on your hips as she dragged you closer.

You reached behind her back when she latched onto your neck, unclipping her bra and dragging it off her shoulders. She did yours in return.

Natalie didn’t waste another second. She pushed you down harder into the seat, her hands seizing your wrists and pinning them above your head, eyes locked on yours with a hungry, unblinking focus that made your heart stutter.

“You want this?” she rasped, voice rough and shaking. “Then fight for it.”

You bucked up against her, wild, teeth bared in a snarl that was half sob, half want. The truck’s suspension creaked with the force of it, but she didn’t let you go, didn’t even waver, holding you steady with those vice-grip hands.

“Come on,” she coaxed, breathless, a crooked grin twisting her lips. “Show me you’re still in there.”

You lunged up, crashing your mouth to hers, savage and messy, the kiss breaking over and over between gasps for air. Natalie only deepened it, biting at your lower lip until you tasted blood, then licking it away like she owned every drop.

Her other hand was everywhere, tracing hard lines over your ribs, the curve of your waist, down to your hips. She squeezed there, possessive, a bruising grip that made you whimper into her mouth.

“God, you’re hungry,” she breathed, pulling away to scan your face, eyes blown wide and wild. “So desperate.”

You nearly cried from the sheer relief of it, hips grinding up against the rough material of her jean-covered thigh, trying to get any friction. But she made you work for it, shifting just out of reach, smirking as you squirmed beneath her.

“Natalie—”

“What?” she teased, dragging a fingertip from your collarbone to the edge of your bandage, circling the wound with a dark tenderness. “You want something?”

You nodded, breath coming ragged, hands clenched into fists against her hold.

“Say it.”

You swallowed, shame burning through your chest, but the need was too raw to hide. “I want you. Please—”

She laughed, low and filthy, and let go of your wrists, only to grip your jaw in one cold, strong hand. “Good girl.”

Then she was kissing you again, rougher, tongue hot and demanding, a rhythm that left you dizzy. Her free hand trailed down, sliding between your legs without hesitation, and you nearly came apart from the single finger that she dragged through your slick.

“That’s it,” she purred against your cheek, nipping the delicate skin there. “Take it. You’ve been holding back all night, take what you need.”

You moved with her, frantic, fighting against the hold she had on your wrists but not being able to break it. The contrast of her warm body and cold fingers running through your folds sent a chill straight to your core, and you moaned, arching into her.

Natalie pressed two slick-soaked fingers to your clit, dragging obnoxious circles along the bud, making you grind against her, desperate and furious.

“Fuck,” you choked out, tears spilling again—from relief, from adrenaline, from the raw, impossible ache of surviving. You arched your hips, begging her fingers to push inside, her digits circling your clenching cunt. She chuckled, dragging her lips up the side of your throat, nipping your jaw—then shoving two fingers all the way to knuckle deep into your gummy walls.

You cried out, back arching off the seat, eyes shooting wide. Tears flowed harder. She kissed them away, like before, but this time with her fingers dipping into your cunt, pulling you open for her, rough and perfect. She curled her knuckles, pumping the digits so fast you felt like she was rattling you. Her palm pressed against your clit, bumping the nub every time her fingers pumped, making you moan so loud and breathless.

“No more hiding,” she growled, voice shaking, her breath coming as ragged as yours. “No more doubting yourself. You’re mine. You understand?”

“Yes—”

“That’s right,” she snarled, letting your hands go. You arched, nails raking down her back, pulling her closer until there was no space left at all, no past, no future, just this endless, hungry now.

She moved hard, fingers relentless, every thrust a demand that you feel, that you live, that you fight back. And you did, meeting her, matching her, letting every shred of guilt and terror burn away in the heat of her hands and the rough sweetness of her kisses.

Natalie’s voice stayed in your ear, a constant, grounding rasp. “Good. Good. Show me. Don’t hold back.”

You couldn’t—and you didn’t. Despite the feeling, the overwhelmingly amazing feeling, you wanted her—all of her. You reached between you, tearing open the button of her jeans and pushing the waistband down. She chuckled, pushing her fingers in your cunt to the hilt and holding them there, grinding her palm against your cunt. You mewled as she sat up off of you, grinding your hips up as she pushed her jeans down with one hand.

“Nat—”

“Hold on—”

“No.” You pushed up, pushing her hands off of you and grabbing at her hips. You hauled her down onto the seat, flipping the two of you so her back hit the fabric with a grunt. She stared up at you with a wide eye as you dragged her jeans down the rest of the way, pulling her boots off with them. Her panties were soaked already, messy fabric right around her hips as you peeled them down too. Natalie grinned, teeth barred when you climbed onto her lap, dripping cunt barely giving Natalie a moment to adjust in her position before you were throwing one leg over her hips and slotting the other underneath.

You planted your foot on the carpet of the truck, the other hooking over her leg and beside her hip, then pressing down as hard as you could.

Your bare cunts met in a shock of white heat and ecstasy. You both groaned deep and loud, bucking up into the heat of the other as you began to grind your desperation against her. Soaked lips and glistened folds rubbed together, clits bumping and thighs shaking.

Natalie moaned deep in her chest, her auburn hair splaying under her as her flushed cheeks and freckles shined in the moonlight filtering through the windows. Your stomach curled, muscles working to ride your arousal and need as you fucked your cunt against hers. “Mhnn-Hah— Nat—Natalie, oh, god—”

“Use me, baby—Fuck—take it all out on me.”

You sped up, legs burning so bad from way you knocked your hips so violently against hers, clit burning with the sensation.

Your whole body was singing, burning, shivering, and Natalie seemed to feel it in every breath you took. She leaned up onto her elbows, just far enough to look up at you—sweat-slicked, shaking, absolutely ruined—and grinned with a predator’s satisfaction.

Then, without warning, she pushed you down, hooking one hand under your knee and flipping you to the side, your back hitting the cracked vinyl seat with a dull thud.

“Fuck—” you gasped, but she was already moving, already pressing herself against you, pinning you down.

“Spread,” she growled, voice a ragged command.

You obeyed, hips rolling forward, your legs parting around her thighs. Natalie slipped her fingers under your knee again, adjusting you until your cores aligned, heat meeting heat in a molten jolt that stole your breath.

Her pupils blew wide, lips parted in a soft, disbelieving curse. “God, you’re so fucking wet.”

You moaned, helpless, grinding forward as the brush of her skin against yours sent a white-hot shock of pleasure through your whole body.

“Yeah,” she breathed, catching your hips in her hands, guiding you, “that’s it, baby—right there.”

And then she was moving with you, hips rocking together, a perfect friction of arousal and sweat that left you both shaking. The rough fabric of the truck seat bit into your back, grounding you, but it was nothing compared to the dizzy, consuming sensation of Natalie’s cunt dragging over yours again and again, a filthy, perfect rhythm.

Your voices tangled—gasps, broken moans, curses—the truck rocking slightly under your combined, desperate motion.

“Harder,” you choked out, fingers digging into her shoulder, nails biting hard enough to draw blood.

She gave you exactly what you wanted, grinding down, hips rolling with a force that made stars burst behind your eyes. You couldn’t remember why you were upset, it didn’t matter, the tears in your eyes weren’t from sadness or anger anymore, but from feeling so fucking good you thought you might pass out.

“Don’t you fucking stop,” she hissed, every word a ragged praise, hands slipping behind your back to pull you closer, grinding so hard you felt the shock of each impact in your teeth. You both moved together, hips pulling back for just a second before you were knocking back together again, fucking your cunts together thrust after thrust.

You couldn’t hold back—couldn’t even think—just moved with her, matching her hungry rhythm, every nerve on fire, hips snapping in time with hers.

Natalie’s leaned up off the seat, pushed one of your legs back and propping your heel on her shoulder. She leaned down, spreading your legs so wide you felt the burn and pull in your hip flexors. She was tearing you apart, head dropped to your shoulder, panting against your skin, her voice raw.

“Fuck—look at you, taking what you want—just like that—”

The sound of skin against skin was obscene, slick and hot and perfect, sending you higher, faster, until all you could do was whimper her name, over and over.

Her lips found your throat, biting down hard enough to leave a mark you could already feel, the pain blooming in perfect harmony with the heat building low and unstoppable in your belly.

She must have sensed it, felt the way your hips stop pulling back and instead chased hers, refusing to do anything but grind so hard you thought your pelvis would crack.

“Come on,” she growled against your neck, voice breaking. “Give it to me—let it go—”

You slammed forward against her one last time, clit slamming against hers just right, and it detonated inside you, a blinding rush of release tearing a scream from your lungs.

Natalie followed right after, her rhythm stuttering, a strangled moan ripping through her as she ground down hard, chasing every last spark of pleasure. You both felt the gush, the way your cunts soaked into each other, sloppiness all over your thighs and puffy lips.

For a long, endless moment, you clung to each other, shaking, breathless, the truck echoing with your ragged gasps. Then she collapsed against you, still tangled together, her lips pressing soft, shaky kisses into your neck. Your leg slipped off her shoulder and down to her waist, wrapping around her as she soaked in the taste of you.

“Goddamn,” she breathed, a laugh breaking through her hoarse voice, “you are something else.”

Your body still trembled, aftershocks making you twitch against her, the world around you a haze of sweat and shallow breathing. Natalie stayed right there, her skin warm and sticky against yours, her arm curled protectively around your waist.

For a minute, there was only the pounding of your hearts, a soft lull that almost made you think you could sleep right there. But Natalie was never one to leave silence alone for long.

She lifted her head, brushing her nose against your cheek, voice still thick and rough. “Hey,” she rasped, “you with me?”

You nodded, blinking through the tears that still clung to your lashes. Your throat burned, voice barely a whisper. “Yeah. I’m here.”

“Good,” she said, a crooked smile tugging at her lips. She nudged your jaw until you met her eyes, thumb sweeping gently across your cheek. “Because you did damn good tonight. You hear me?”

Your chest twisted, shame trying to worm its way back in, but Natalie shut it down with a sharp, possessive kiss.

“No guilt,” she murmured against your mouth. “No second-guessing. You made the call. You survived.”

You swallowed, tears rising again—you couldn’t even help it. “I lost control,” you croaked, voice shaking.

She kissed you again, harder, shutting down the tremor with sheer force. “Then take it back,” she growled, and that hungry grin returned, eyes shining with something dark and unstoppable. “We're not done until you can admit that.”

Before you could answer, she was shifting, moving down your body, peppering kisses over the curve of your chest, her hands greedy and rough on your thighs.

“Natalie—”

“Shh,” she soothed, one hand running up your abdomen, nails dragging lightly over your ribs until you shivered. “I’m gonna help you take it back.”

You gasped as she eased your legs apart again, settling between them, eyes locked on yours with a focused, feral calm that made your pulse spike. You spread your thighs, her hands on the underside of your knees and pressing them back.

Her voice dropped to a sinful murmur. “Let me hear you, sweetheart. Don’t hold anything back.”

She kissed lower, pressing hot, claiming bites along your belly, then dipping between your legs again, dragging her tongue through your ruined folds quick and filthy. You almost sobbed, thighs clamping around her shoulders, but she pinned you open with that inhuman strength, refusing to let you hide.

“That’s it,” she purred, her voice vibrating right through you, “give me everything. Every bit of it.”

Your hands flew to her hair, fingers tangling as you arched into her mouth, the heat of her tongue driving you right back into that place where nothing existed but sensation. Natalie ate you like she’d been starving, relentless, pushing you higher and higher until you felt like you might break apart. Her tongue rolled over your clit, then soaked down into your entrance, pressing the muscle into the hot, sticky hole as it clamped down around her.

You tried to muffle your cries, but she caught your hips in an iron grip, pulling you closer, grinding her face against you with a filthy groan. She slurped your cunt, tongue darting in and out in filthy, sloppy kisses.

“Louder,” she commanded, breaking free just long enough to catch your eyes, pupil wide and dark as she panted. “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”

Then she dove back in, tongue working you with such unrestrained hunger it made your vision blur. She curled her tongue up, her nose grinding against your clit with all the reverence of an animal as she growled into your arousal.

“Fuck Natalie!” you cried, tugging her hair so hard she whined. “M’gonna cum—please, god—Aghhh—” You couldn’t fight it—wouldn’t fight it—and the second orgasm crashed through you hard enough to make your spine curl off the seat, a strangled scream tearing free.

Natalie held you through every wave, licking you clean, drawing out the pleasure until it left you gasping and spent.

Finally, she came back up, breath ragged, lips slick and pink, good eye bright with pride. She leaned down, pressing her forehead to yours.

“There you are,” she whispered, voice shaking with raw relief, “my girl.”

You pulled her down into a kiss, clinging to her, needing that final anchoring warmth. She let you have it, wrapping you up tight, cradling your face as the adrenaline bled away and your heart began to steady again.

No more sirens, no more screaming, no more guilt. Just Natalie, breathing with you, holding you together piece by piece.

And it didn’t matter how guilty you felt, because she would always be right there—her smirk twisting into something soft just for you, her hands knowing exactly how to fix you, how to stitch you back together, whispering that the blood on your hands didn’t make you less worthy of being held.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ NINA THE KILLER

A scream nearly tore its way out of your throat when a hand yanked you off your feet, dragging you with brutal force behind a sagging dumpster. Your boots scraped across wet concrete, heart hammering, gun still clenched in your white-knuckled grip.

“Hush,” a sharp voice hissed in your ear, and you froze.

“Nina—”

You glimpsed her in the glare of a police car headlight, dark jacket and mini-skirt sticking to her body, color-dyed hair wild around her fierce grin. Her mouth was smudged in fresh red, a sloppy grin echoing in the paint on her cheeks, eyes gleaming like a rabid dog’s as she sized you up. Gorgeous, manic, fearless—dripping danger like perfume.

She held you pinned in the shadows, her arm locked around your waist like iron, her knife glinting at her hip, crimson-stained from god only knew what. The pink-streaked hair framing her face shimmered under the ugly yellow light of a flickering street lamp, her split smile and too-white face stern with concentration and worry as she scanned the street.

She was supposed to be your lookout, supposed to help if anything went wrong and get the two of you out—but when you went into that house alone and left with blood on your hands, all you cared about was getting away.

“Shit, sweetheart, you trying to get killed tonight?” she rasped, eyes flashing with a furious glint.

You swallowed, lungs burning. Sirens wailed nearby, closer, their red-and-blue glow sweeping across the brick walls of the back alley. A police cruiser turned the corner in a screech of tires, spotlight slicing across trash bins and shattered glass.

“They’re everywhere,” you panted, your side still screaming from the bullet that grazed you, “I— I couldn’t—”

“Focus,” Nina hissed, giving you a small, almost violent shake. “Breathe.”

You tried. The night felt suffocating, the smell of wet concrete and asphalt mixing with gunpowder and coppery blood, but you forced yourself to drag air into your lungs.

Nina peered around the edge of the shed, her breathing shallow, the glint in her eyes practically feral. “Cops are sweeping the whole block,” she whispered. “We gotta move.”

“Where?” you rasped.

She grinned, wolfish and electric. “Behind the grocery store. I know the way. Come on.”

Nina didn’t wait—she hauled you forward by the wrist, practically dragging you along the damp alley. Your boots splashed through puddles, the gritty asphalt tearing at your knees when you nearly stumbled, but Nina was relentless. She kept you pinned against her side, a shield of rage and confidence.

The grocery store’s loading bay was barely lit, the rusted metal doors chained shut. Nina guided you into the deep shadows behind a leaning stack of pallets, shoving you to crouch low. You winced, pressing a palm against the graze on your side. Blood was soaking through your shirt, warm and sickly.

Nina crouched beside you, eyes darting everywhere, chest heaving. Her blade was still out, steady in her hand even as the adrenaline shook her bones.

“You got shot?” she hissed, pressing her hands around the bloodied area.

“Just a graze,” you ground out, teeth clenched.

She swore under her breath, reaching to tug your hand away so she could see the wound. The harsh neon glow from a backdoor sign flickered over her face, revealing the raw edge of concern in her dark eyes, her eyeshadow and mascara slightly ruined from all the messiness of the night.

“God, baby, you’re a mess,” she smiled, voice threading between worry and that hungry, almost aroused adrenaline you never understood when she saw blood. “Fucking beautiful.”

You laughed, bitter, shaky. “Thanks.”

Nina’s grin widened, dangerous and manic. “Listen, we sit tight here until they sweep past. Then we’re getting the fuck out, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She leaned closer, her breath hot on your cheek, eyes locked on yours with deadly focus. “You follow my lead. If anyone comes back here, I will gut them, and you will run. Got it?”

“Got it,” you whispered.

The sirens blared again, closer still. You ducked lower, heartbeat rattling your ribs like a caged animal. Nina pressed in against your side, the heat of her body grounding you, steadying you.

And in that heartbeat, hidden behind rotten cardboard and rusted metal, you realized she was your lifeline—vicious, unstoppable, and willing to burn the world down for you.

The pounding of police boots grew louder, sweeping through the street outside. Nina tensed, blade ready, her arm protectively caging you against her chest.

Until you heard voices, loud and deep, hollering that there was movement on the east side of the street, far away from where you actually were. You both took a collective sigh of relief as you heard them all move away, boots and tire screeches trailing down the road and away from the electric buzzing of the sign overhead.

The cops’ shouts finally faded, the screaming sirens drifting off down the next block. The pulsing of flashlight beams shrank away, swallowed by the night, until it was just you and Nina in the cold hush of the alley.

For a second, neither of you moved. Your heartbeat still slammed in your ears, the metallic tang of blood mixing with rotting produce and old rain. You shivered, shoulders pressed against the damp bricks.

Nina lowered her knife, though she didn’t sheathe it, eyes fixed on you with that same electric focus.

“Talk to me,” she demanded, voice sweet and concerned. “What the fuck happened out there?”

Your throat burned. You opened your mouth, but everything spilled out in a rush, hot and cracked, like tearing open a wound all over again.

“I—it was supposed to be simple,” you choked, breath stuttering, “just information, Nina, that’s all—I tried—I tried to get him to talk but he laughed at me, he laughed, and I—”

Your hands trembled, fingers still sticky with drying blood.

“I lost it,” you admitted, tears biting your eyes, “I lost everything. I couldn’t stop, I—”

Nina leaned in, closer, until her forehead nearly touched yours. Her eyes burned, dark and unreadable, taking in every trembling word.

“Baby,” she murmured, “look at me.”

You did.

She tore at her own skirt, yanking a strip of pink speckled fabric free with a vicious rip. Without flinching, she pressed it against your side, staunching the oozing graze. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, even as her words stayed sharp.

“You think I’m gonna hate you for that?” she scoffed, voice almost amused. “You think I wouldn’t have loved watching you tear him apart?”

Your breath hitched.

“You think I wouldn’t have wanted to see you,” she went on, binding the cloth tight around your waist, “so beautiful covered in a bastard’s blood?”

She grinned, a razor’s edge of wickedness.

“You are gorgeous, sweetheart,” she purred, eyes dancing in the weak alley light, “beautiful and terrifying, just the way I like you.”

Nina finished tying the makeshift bandage, fingers lingering on your skin, pressing into you like a brand. Then she lifted your hands, stained crimson and shaking, and kissed the knuckles one by one.

“You are beautiful,” she whispered, lips brushing blood and dirt, “and you were perfect tonight.”

Your chest cracked open, a sob catching in your throat, but Nina was already moving—kissing higher, dragging her lips up your forearm, tasting the tang of copper on your skin.

She cupped your face in both hands, smearing your own blood across your cheeks, and kissed you hard. It was brutal, claiming, the taste of metal and sweat and fear on both your tongues.

Nina devoured you like she’d starve without it, her voice breaking between kisses, “Perfect, perfect, beautiful, perfect girl—”

The night outside was silent again, but you felt the world roar back to life in her arms, lit up by Nina’s praise, Nina’s fire, Nina’s mouth on yours—tearing away every scrap of guilt and sewing it back up with something dark, and alive, and endless.

Nina’s mouth was hungry, biting at your lips, stealing every shaky breath from your lungs. Her hands slid over your shoulders, slick with blood, fingers gripping hard enough to bruise. She couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t get enough of you, like you were oxygen after she’d just drowned.

She drew back just a hair, panting, staring down at your stained hands with pupils blown wide. “God, baby,” she moaned, voice trembling with twisted adoration, “look at these hands…”

She lifted them to her mouth with wide eyes. Her teeth scraped lightly as she took your middle finger between her lips and sucked, eyes fluttering half-shut as if tasting some fine, forbidden wine.

You gasped, heat roaring through your chest.

Nina popped your finger from her mouth with a wet sound, tongue flicking across the remaining blood. “So fucking delicious,” she purred, a dangerous smile breaking across her face.

Your heart lurched, breaking free of its cage, and you couldn’t stop yourself. You surged forward, grabbing fistfuls of her shirt and spinning her, pinning her to the rough brick wall behind the pallets.

Nina let out a soft, breathless laugh, head falling back against the crumbling bricks, eyes gone wild. “That’s it, sweetheart,” she urged, “take what you want—”

Your lips crashed into hers again, hard, messy, tasting iron and adrenaline. She clung to your shoulders, nails biting through the fabric of your sleeves as you kissed down the line of her jaw, across her cheekbone, over the sharp curve of her throat.

“Mine,” you rasped, voice breaking against her skin, “you’re mine too. You want this fucker’s blood all over you?”

“Say it again,” she gasped, her breath stuttering when your tongue traced the edge of her ear.

“Mine.”

Nina’s hips rolled as you slotted your thigh between her legs, desperate, her hands winding into your hair to keep you close as you devoured every inch of her neck, your teeth dragging little red marks in your wake. Her bangs ruffled against her face, hair a mess, that raw, ecstatic grin splitting her face that you always loved.

No matter how awful you felt, no matter how disgusting your body seemed after the actions tonight, Nina combatted that. Her words, her actions, her need for you—even full of dread and anger—made your bones shake with want, with need for her in turn.

Your voice trembled, half-crazed with the taste of her, “You—you make me crazy, you know that? Fuck—”

You kissed her again, cutting her giggles off, fierce and consuming. Her body arched into you, gasping and biting at your lower lip, trying to drown in you, to burn in you. You could feel her heartbeat hammering wild through her ribs, matching your own.

Blood, sweat, night air, all of it tangled together—the filthy, perfect confession of monsters who would rather die than let go. Of two people who are fucked—who know they are—and love each other for it.

Nina’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer, refusing to let you slip away, even for a second. You held her against the wall, breathless, starving, and kissed her like you could taste forgiveness on her tongue, the two of you locked together in the alley’s darkness with nothing but each other to hold on to.

“You’re insane.” Your hands roamed down the curve of her sides, squeezing tight, hungry for every inch of her.

“You love it,” she shivered, head falling back against the bricks, a ragged moan breaking loose when your palms slipped under the hem of her torn skirt. The thin fabric barely clung to her hips anymore, stained and ripped, easy to shove up to her waist.

Your eyes widened when you saw the lacy thong that hugged her hips. “Seriously…?”

“I knew I’d be hanging with you tonight, so…”

You shoved her hips down onto your thigh, grinding her clothed cunt against your pant-leg.

“Fuck,” Nina gasped, nails dragging down your arms as you pressed in closer, pinning her tight to the wall. “God—don’t stop—”

You didn’t. You ground her hips into your thigh, breath catching, the friction sending shocks of want straight through your veins. Nina’s hands clawed at your back, urging you on, lips parting in a raw gasp when you rocked her against you harder, chasing that blinding edge of release and rage.

Your fingers pushed up under her skirt, and down into her panties, brushing hot, searing wetness, teasing your fingers against her clit just to feel her tremble.

She arched into you, nearly wild, voice cracking, “Please—baby, please—”

“Look at you,” you rasped against her neck, biting lightly at the soft skin, “fucking desperate…”

Nina let out a choked laugh, breathless and wrecked. “For you—always for you,” she confessed, hips canting forward into your hand, her eyes locked on yours like she’d die if you looked away. Her lips were bitten and bruised, cheeks so pink you smiled at her, leaning forward to kiss them.

You pushed her skirt higher, bunching it around her hips, free hand gliding up her thigh and around to grab her ass, hard enough to make her squirm. You could feel her cunt clench around nothing, pulsing, begging for you, slick against your fingers.

She pushed her thigh up between your legs at the same time, rocking against you in a perfect, filthy rhythm that made your head spin.

Your hips snapped harder against her, a strangled cry breaking from your throat. Nina drank it in, lips ghosting across your jaw, hungry for every sound.

“Fuck me up,” she whispered, voice shaking, “do it, please—”

You slammed your mouth against hers, swallowing her whimpers, your fingers teasing her folds, stroking up against her clit until her knees buckled. The alley seemed to close around you both, gritty and cold, but so alive, her thigh grinding right into your core, dragging you higher and higher.

You pushed her harder against the brick, every thrust making her gasp, until you thought you’d fall apart from how bad you wanted to feel her break.

Nina’s hands tangled in your hair, colorful nails tugging you down to kiss her again, deep and dirty, her tongue greedy against yours, your bodies shaking together in a feverish, unstoppable rhythm.

She couldn’t stay still—rocking her hips, pushing back against your hand, chasing that wild edge like she’d die without it.

You curled your fingers against her slick heat, drawing a sharp cry from her throat. Nina bucked, nails digging into your shoulders, her thighs twitching under your grip. When her hips stuttered, you curled your finger, pushing your middle digit in. There wasn’t any resistance, Nina clamping against you all the way to the hilt.

“That’s it,” you growled, voice ragged, “take it, Nina—fuck, you feel so good—”

Her lips split in a ragged grin, teeth flashing between moans, “More—please, more—”

You obliged, sliding another finger inside her, working her open, feeling her clench around you, hot and dripping. She nearly folded, legs trembling, forehead pressing hard against yours.

Her thigh still pinned between your legs, grinding against your soaked center, driving you closer and closer to the brink. You rocked on her, hips rolling in desperate, hungry circles, gasping when every perfect movement made her cry out again.

“So pretty,” Nina rasped, voice broken and shrill, “fucking—perfect—”

Your teeth caught the side of her throat, biting down just enough to leave a mark, and she let out a high, shaking moan, her hands gripping your arms like she’d fall apart if you let go.

“Keep going,” she pleaded, hips jerking, thighs quaking, “don’t you fucking stop—”

You fucked your fingers up into her harder, faster, knuckles curling in deep, watching her unravel. Her mascara ran in dark streaks down her flushed face, smudging in the tear tracks and the specks of blood still drying on her cheeks.

It was beautiful. Vicious. Perfect.

She kissed you, sloppy and uncoordinated, her tongue sliding over yours in a frantic claim as her walls fluttered around your fingers, tight and wet.

“Cum for me,” you breathed against her lips, voice rough with your own rising release, “come on, baby—on my fingers—”

And Nina did, hard, her whole body locking up, a strangled cry tearing through the alley as she pulsed around your fingers. You fucked her through it, refusing to let her down easy, grinding against her thigh as you watched her face twist and her eyes roll up into her pretty lashes.

You both shook, forehead to forehead, panting, clinging to each other like the world might tear you apart if you let go.

Before you could even catch your breath, Nina was moving, her body still trembling from her own orgasm but eyes locked on you with that ravenous, feral spark. She didn’t give you a chance to recover.

Rough hands grabbed your hips, spinning your back to the wall, pinning you there with a bruising grip. You barely had time to gasp before you felt her sink to her knees in front of you, her hands already tugging at your waistband, yanking the button of your pants open and tugging them down your thighs with single-minded hunger.

“Fuck, Nina—” you tried, but your voice cut off in a ragged moan when she pushed your legs open, dragging your panties down with nails scratching your skin. She spread you open, breath hot against your dripping cunt.

“Shh,” she cooed, low and wicked, “I’m not done with you yet.”

She didn’t waste another second—her tongue was on you, hot and wet, dragging through your folds with a filthy groan. Your head smacked back against the brick, fingers scrabbling for something to hold on to as she licked into you, messy and greedy, like she wanted to drown in the taste of you. You latched onto her hair, one fist around her ponytail and the other cupping behind her head, pushing her closer.

“God, you taste perfect,” she growled against your slick, lips sealing around your clit and sucking hard enough to make your knees threaten to give.

You cried out, loud, echoing in the empty alley, hands dragging to tangle in her hair. Nina moaned at the pull, the vibration sending sparks straight through your gut. She doubled down, tongue flicking your swollen bud, lapping at your taste, then plunging inside you with little warning, fucking you with her mouth.

Your thighs shook, breath coming in shattered, frantic bursts, hips jerking against her face. Nina just held you tighter, nails biting into your skin, keeping you right where she wanted you, tearing you apart under her mouth.

“Fuck—Nina—don’t stop—”

She hummed against you, eyes glittering, hands spreading your ass wider so she could bury herself even deeper. Each swirl of her tongue felt like fire, like absolution, like punishment—every desperate, broken sound she drank from your lips only spurred her on.

Your hips started to stutter, a hot wave building so fast you could hardly think. Nina’s tongue fucked you hard and fast, then moved up to circle your clit, relentless and perfect. Her nails dragged along the top of your thighs, leaving wilting marks.

Your climax was building so fast it was blinding, every flick of Nina’s tongue sending you closer to the edge until your nerves were set on fire. You couldn’t take it—it was too much, too raw, too sharp.

Your hands gripped hard, tugging Nina by the hair and pulling her face away from you, slick and messy, her lips glossy with your arousal.

She looked up at you, eyes wide and wild, pupils blown, mouth parted in a desperate gasp.

“No—no, baby, don’t—” she choked out, voice cracking as her hands clawed at your hips, trying to shove her face back against your cunt, “please, let me—let me finish you—”

You panted, chest heaving, legs shaking, your grip iron tight in her hair. Nina’s nails bit into your thighs, practically pleading with her whole body, breath ragged, tears starting to prick in the corners of her eyes from the pure frustration.

“Fuck, Nina—give me a second—” you gasped, trying to keep yourself from falling apart right then and there.

But she shook her head frantically, voice gone rough and broken, “No—please, I need you, let me taste you, let me finish—”

You tried to steady your breathing, but she was so goddamn beautiful, wrecked and hungry, smeared with blood and tears and spit, trying to pull against your hold like an animal starved.

“Let me,” she whined again, almost sobbing, “I need you to cum on my tongue—fuck, please—”

The desperation in her voice split you open. You couldn’t hold her off any longer, couldn’t fight that wild, shaking heat in your core.

Your hand loosened, just enough for her to surge forward, devouring you again with a sob of relief. Her mouth sealed around you, tongue working you ruthlessly, like she’d die if she didn’t make you finish.

You felt it snap, pleasure crashing through you so violently you nearly collapsed, a raw cry tearing from your throat. Nina held you up, refusing to let you slip away, licking you through every quaking spasm, moaning against you like she’d never get enough.

When you finally sagged against the brick, shaking, she pulled back, lips glossy and swollen, face flushed and eyes wild.

“Fuck,” she panted, licking her lips, “I could eat you forever.”

“Clearly,” you huffed through shaky breaths.

You felt like every bone in your body had turned to liquid. The alley seemed impossibly quiet now, the night air cooling the sweat on your skin. In the distance, you could still hear faint police sirens fading back in, swallowed by the restless hum of the city, but making their way back around the block.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You just looked at each other, hearts still hammering, breaths ragged, stained by blood and sweat and the taste of violence.

Finally, you let out a broken, exhausted laugh, “Jesus, Nina…” you breathed, voice frayed, “I thought I was gonna fucking pass out.”

She grinned, impossibly proud of herself, though there was a strange softness hiding underneath. She came down to crouch in front of you, smoothing your hair from your face with shaky fingers, tracing your jaw like she couldn’t believe you were real.

“Look at you,” she murmured, thumb brushing over your cheek, “a fucking masterpiece.”

You swallowed, the night’s chaos washing over you all at once—the blood, the bullets, the screaming. The mission going to hell, the smell of gunpowder, the look in that target’s eyes before you tore him apart. It clung to your ribs, heavy and suffocating.

“I lost control,” you rasped, the guilt starting to gnaw through your adrenaline, “I—fuck, I lost it—I was supposed to get information, and I just—”

Nina’s expression shifted, something gentler behind her bloodlust, something frighteningly warm. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to yours.

“Hey,” she breathed, voice calm but unyielding, “you did what you had to do. You survived. That’s all that matters.”

You closed your eyes, trying to believe it. Her hands steadied you, warm against your shoulders, pulling you in until you could feel her heartbeat against yours.

“You’re a monster, just like me,” she whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth, “and I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

The words sank in, a twisted kind of comfort—the only comfort someone like you could ever really understand. You leaned into her, letting the horror of the night slip away for a heartbeat, replaced by the familiar, brutal warmth of someone who saw you for exactly what you were.

Together, you stayed tucked in the dark of that alley, catching your breath, clinging to each other, until the world outside finally felt just a little bit quieter.

And it didn’t matter how remorseful you felt, because she would always be right there—kissing every sin off your skin, praising the violence you carried, promising you were beautiful even in your ruin, worshiping you like you were made to break things and be broken.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ JANE EVERLASTING

You barely had a chance to breathe before a hand shot out of the shadows and seized you, iron-strong fingers clamping around your wrist. A flash of pale skin, a knife glinting by her hip—and a familiar cold rage in those dark eyes.

“Jane—”

She was a dark queen moving through the crush of shadows, black hair sleek and gleaming like onyx, every move radiating lethal grace, black dress hugging her curves just right. Her pale skin caught the twisting moonlight, highlighting cheekbones sharp enough to cut, and when her eyes—black as midnight—locked on you, the world seemed to hush, bowing to her power.

“Come on,” she snapped, yanking you off balance, hauling you down an overgrown side yard and vaulting a sagging fence in one smooth motion.

You stumbled, nearly lost your gun, heart thundering, adrenaline screaming through every vein. The sirens behind you were getting closer, blue and red cutting through the dark as the police spread through the neighborhood, barking orders, boots smashing through backyards in a fury of hunting dogs.

Jane didn’t slow, dragging you along with a death grip, her hair streaming behind her like a black banner of war. “They’ll sweep the woods,” she growled, “too obvious. We go deeper into town. Blend in.”

You nodded, panting, barely keeping your feet under you as she ducked behind another house, crossed through a ruined backyard, and sprinted toward the chain-link fence on the opposite side.

Jane was there to be your getaway. She was staying in a motel nearby, and you had talked before this mission. You weren’t supposed to mess everything up and drag her into this, she was just meant to be a place to stay for the night.

The neighborhood bled away fast, block after block blurring together in a haze of sweat and panic, until you hit the edge of the town proper—a busier street, still lit, people pouring out of late-night shops and bars, oblivious to the monsters at their doorstep.

Jane didn’t hesitate, dragging you into the chaos, weaving through drunks and night owls, dodging a pair of college kids laughing on the curb. All in heels and a mask, no less.

“Keep your head down,” she hissed, pulling your hood up and tucking your hair beneath it, hiding the drying blood splattered on your collar. “They’ll never think to look in the middle of a crowd.” Funny for her to say, as if she didn’t stand out like a gothic sore thumb.

The street was alive with pulsing neon and pounding bass from the bars, a swirl of cheap perfume and sweat. Jane threaded through it like a phantom, never breaking her stride, scanning every doorway. You could barely keep up, your wound pulsing painfully along your ribs, the bullet graze burning under your shirt with every harsh movement.

Finally, she spotted a place—a dive bar with a busted neon sign, so crowded you could barely see through the window. Perfect.

Jane wrenched open the door, a wave of sour beer and old cigarette smoke hitting you in the face, and shoved you through the crush of bodies. A couple of people shouted as you bumped them, but Jane didn’t care, cutting a path straight for the back hallway with predatory grace.

Someone grabbed her arm—a drunk guy trying to flirt—and she shoved him off so hard he crashed into a table, sending glasses flying. Before anyone could react, she’d kicked open the door to the bathroom at the far end, yanking you inside and locking it behind you.

The tiny space reeked of bleach and stale air. You slammed back against the sink, trying to catch your breath, pulse still pounding in your throat like a war drum.

Jane rounded on you, her eyes flashing. “What the fuck happened out there?” she demanded, voice sharp enough to flay you alive.

You swallowed hard, wiping a streak of blood from your mouth, your hands still shaking. “I—I lost control,” you rasped, voice cracking. “He—he wouldn’t talk, and I—”

She stepped forward, crowding you against the sink, her hands coming up to grip your shoulders, holding you steady.

“Look at me,” she snapped, her tone leaving no room for argument. You forced your gaze to meet hers, that deep, endless black, and felt the tremor in your knees.

“You’re still alive,” Jane hissed, voice dropping low, “that is what matters.”

Outside, you could hear the bass from the jukebox thumping through the walls, people laughing, completely oblivious to the murderers hiding in the bathroom.

Jane’s hands loosened, sliding to your jaw, her thumb smearing away the blood from your cheek, then cupping you there with a surprising gentleness.

“Breathe,” she whispered, so close you could taste her, “we’re not done yet.”

Jane pulled back, scanning you from head to toe, her eyes narrowing at the blood soaking through your side. The bullet graze burned like hell, reminding you with every heartbeat that you’d gotten sloppy, too sloppy.

“Fuck,” Jane growled, tearing her gaze away. She unlocked the bathroom door just enough to slip out, leaving you alone for a moment with the cracked mirror and buzzing fluorescent light.

You leaned against the sink, hands trembling, chest tight. The roaring in your ears was deafening—the weight of what you’d done, the blood, the smell of it on your skin. The target’s face kept flashing behind your eyelids, the way he screamed before you tore him apart.

Before you could sink too deep, Jane returned, one hand balled around a filthy-looking rag swiped off the bar counter—meant for drying pint glasses, but good enough for triage. She locked the door again behind her, stalking forward.

“Lift your shirt,” she ordered, voice leaving no room to argue.

You obeyed, teeth gritted as you peeled up the blood-crusted fabric, revealing the graze running a line of raw pain across your side.

“Jesus,” Jane muttered, dipping the rag into the sink and ringing it out before pressing it to your wound. The rag was rough, stinking of cheap beer and lemon-scented soap, but it was cold, biting into the torn skin in a way that made you hiss.

Jane didn’t apologize. She just worked, methodical, wiping the blood away with careful but firm swipes, trying to get the worst of it cleaned up.

“Fucking amateurs,” she spat under her breath, though you couldn’t tell if she meant the target, the cops, or you. Maybe all of it.

You clenched the edge of the sink, forcing yourself to hold still as she worked. “I…I just lost it,” you finally admitted, voice raw. “He wouldn’t talk, he kept laughing, and I just—”

Jane paused, rag still against your side, her eyes locking on yours. Dark. Hungry. Understanding.

“You snapped,” she finished for you, voice dropping to a low rasp. “We’ve all been there.”

You swallowed hard, shame and relief clashing inside your chest.

“I should have never done this mission alone.”

Jane’s hands slowed, her touch softening. She let the rag drop, bracing her palms on either side of your hips, leaning in so close you could feel the warmth of her breath through her mask.

“You did what you had to,” she murmured, brushing a strand of sweaty hair off your forehead, letting her thumb linger against your temple. “I’m proud of you.”

The words cracked something inside you. Your shoulders slumped, a ragged breath tearing out of you, eyes burning with unshed tears.

Jane brushed the tears away before they could fall, one after the other, slow, deliberate, like she wanted to make sure every bit of you was safe with her—even your pain.

“You’re not alone,” she whispered, words ghosting across your face, “you’ll never be alone with me.”

You exhaled, trembling, letting her words bury themselves in your ribs, letting her warmth sink through the cold shell of your fear.

Jane reached behind the hem of her mask, pulling the white veil off her face and setting it on the sink behind you. Your eyes welled with tears, her dark ones meeting yours with that fierce determination she always held. You hiccuped, choking on another sob as she tugged you closer, pressing her hips to yours.

Jane kissed you then, deep and consuming, swallowing up every broken, desperate piece of you like it was the sweetest thing she’d ever had.

Jane’s kiss didn’t stop—it devoured. You felt her tongue slip against yours, demanding, taking, like she could drink down every fear and regret tangled inside you. Her hands slid from your hips to your waist, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, grounding you in the present.

The pain of your wound seemed to fade under the heat of her mouth, your mind spinning with the rush of relief, desire, confusion—everything tangled so tight you couldn’t separate one from the next.

Jane broke the kiss with a wet sound, her lips brushing your ear, voice low and dark.

“You feel that?” she rasped, her thigh pressing between yours, pushing up until you couldn’t help but grind down on the pressure. “That’s real. Right here. This is all that matters now.”

You gasped, hands shooting out to grab her shoulders, nails biting into the leather of her jacket as she rolled her hips against you, forcing another ragged moan from your throat.

The stench of bleach and cheap beer, the faint scent of old cigarettes and the copper of your own blood—all of it burned into your senses, dizzying, filthy, perfect.

Jane kissed you again, rougher this time, her teeth catching your lower lip until it stung. Her hands trailed up your shirt, warm palms dragging across your ribs, tracing every harsh breath you took like she was memorizing the shape of your fear.

“I want you to feel alive,” she hissed, voice so deep it vibrated against your mouth. “You hear me? Alive.”

You nodded, unable to speak, your body already moving with hers, grinding harder against her thigh, chasing friction like you’d die without it. Her short black dress was riding up like it always did, making you so hungry you could’ve snapped if she touched you one more time.

“Good girl,” she purred, catching your chin in one hand, nails pressing into your cheeks, forcing you to look straight into her black eyes, molten with hunger. “Show me how alive you can be.”

She kissed you again, drowning you, while her other hand slipped down to unfasten your pants, tugging them harshly over your hips. The fabric stuck to your sweaty skin, but she tore it down anyway, not caring about anything but getting closer, skin on skin.

You kicked them off desperately, hooking a leg over her thigh to keep grinding against her, lost in the frantic, needy pulse of your own heartbeat.

Jane’s mouth traveled down your neck, biting, sucking bruises into your flesh, marking you with a predator’s claim. Her hand was between your legs then, cupping you through your underwear, the fabric instantly damp under her touch.

“Look at you,” she breathed, voice almost reverent, “fucking perfect.”

Your hips jolted when her thumb found your clit, a ragged cry bursting from your throat, echoing off the cracked tiles.

“Stay with me,” Jane ordered, biting at your collarbone as her fingers teased you, relentless, driving you to the edge so fast your head spun. “Stay here with me.”

You moaned, body shaking, so close to shattering already. Jane’s breath was hot against your throat, her voice like a blade, slicing through every ounce of doubt.

“I’m not letting you go,” she growled, fingers slipping beneath your underwear to finally touch you bare, sliding through the soaked heat. “Not now. Not ever.”

Jane didn’t give you a chance to catch your breath. She grabbed your hips, spinning you around so you were facing the grimy mirror, the harsh bathroom lights throwing your reflection into cruel clarity.

“Look,” she commanded, voice rough, as she pressed your chest down against the cracked porcelain sink, arching your back so your ass was pushed out toward her. “Look at yourself.”

You tried to obey, dizzy and half-gone, your wide, teary eyes meeting your own reflection. Blood streaked your cheek, your shirt rumpled, your lips bruised and swollen from her kisses—you looked like a monster, a gorgeous monster.

Jane growled low in her throat, one hand trailing over the curve of your ass before slipping down between your thighs, dragging your soaked panties aside. She bullied two fingers inside you without warning, filling you to the knuckle, forcing a sob out of you as you clenched around her.

“God, listen to you,” she hissed, pumping into you hard enough to make your knees buckle, “listen to how wet you are for me.”

Your moans bounced off the walls, filthy, shameless, mixing with the faint rumble of music outside the bathroom door. Jane twisted her fingers, finding that perfect spot inside you, her thumb grinding mercilessly against your clit until your hips were jerking back on her hand.

“You’re gonna watch yourself come,” she ordered, eyes gleaming in the mirror as she met your gaze, “you’re gonna see what I see.”

Your legs shook, another cry tearing out of you, pleasure ripping up your spine like wildfire. Jane’s pace grew harder, faster, the wet sounds of your body obscene in the tiny bathroom.

And then she dropped to her knees behind you, never breaking rhythm. She tugged your panties over the swell of your ass and down your thighs, dropping to the floor with your pants. You felt her breath first—hot and hungry against your skin—before her tongue replaced her thumb, licking slow, filthy circles over your clit while her fingers kept pounding into you.

Your scream bounced off the tiles, hands clawing at the sink, knuckles white.

“Fuck—Jane!”

She laughed, dark and feral, mouth already slick with you as she flicked her tongue and rolled against your clit, devouring you like she was starved. Her grip on your thighs was bruising, holding you in place as you tried to buck away from the overwhelming pleasure.

In the mirror, you saw the way your hips ground back against her mouth, how Jane’s eyes fluttered half-shut in bliss as she licked you like the sweetest thing she’d ever tasted.

Your head fell forward, dizzy and undone, but Jane pulled you back up by the hips, forcing you to watch every second of it, refusing to let you look away from your own destruction.

Jane’s tongue drove you insane, tracing circles and dragging rough, desperate patterns over your clit until you felt like you’d break apart. She was ravenous, lapping you up like she’d been starving for your taste all her life, moaning low in her throat as if your pleasure fed her more than any kill ever could.

Your fingers clawed into the ceramic sink, the mirror fogging up with your ragged, panting breaths. The reflection of Jane on her knees behind you—hair wild, eyes hungry, shoulders flexing as she kept your thighs pinned—burned into your mind, obscene and perfect.

She worked her fingers deeper, spreading you wide, crooking them just right to hit that spot that made you choke on a sob. Every slick, filthy sound from your wilting cunt echoed off the bathroom tiles, mixing with your broken cries until you could hardly think.

“Jane—!” you gasped, voice cracking, your legs threatening to give out.

She pulled back for a heartbeat, letting your arousal shine on her lips, and looked up at you through dark lashes, eyes blown wide with mirth.

“Keep those pretty eyes open,” she ordered, voice low and dangerous, “I want you to watch how perfect you look falling apart.”

Then she dove back in, tongue flattening against your clit with merciless force, sucking, swirling, flicking until you saw stars bursting behind your eyes. The muscles in your belly coiled tight, molten and impossible to contain.

Jane felt it—felt your thighs trembling around her face, felt you clenching down around her fingers—and doubled down, fucking you harder, rougher, faster, egging you on with every eager, hungry stroke of her tongue.

“God, you taste like sin,” she mumbled into your cunt, her voice vibrating straight through you. “Come on, baby—let it out for me. I want all of it.”

Your head snapped up, catching the ruined reflection of yourself in the mirror—eyes glassy, mouth open in a silent scream, body shaking—and that was it. You shattered around her fingers, a white-hot climax tearing through you so violently you thought your heart might explode.

Jane didn’t stop, didn’t even pause—she rode you through the quake of it, swallowing down every wave of your pleasure, relentless, possessive, like she couldn’t bear to let a drop escape.

Your knees buckled for real, and she caught you before you hit the ground, pulling her fingers free and replacing them with her tongue again, devouring you with messy, sloppy moans that made your thighs twitch.

“Too much—” you whimpered, voice raw.

Jane just growled, holding you steady as she sucked at your clit until your vision went dark around the edges, tears running down your cheeks. She was relentless, drinking in every second of your oversensitive, desperate whimpers.

Finally—finally—she pulled back, licking her lips slowly, eyes locked on yours in the mirror. She looked utterly unhinged, pupils blown wide, breathing ragged, face shining with your slick.

“Look at you,” she purred, voice wrecked, “so fucking gorgeous.”

The tremor in your limbs hadn’t fully stopped, but you were fueled by something deeper now—the hungry, frantic need to give Jane back everything she’d just poured into you. You looked at her, still crouched in behind you with flushed cheeks and slick lips, and something inside you snapped, feral and devoted.

Before she could even catch her breath, you surged back, grabbing her by the shoulders, hauling her up, and crashing your mouth to hers. She grunted in surprise, kissing you back hard, teeth clicking against yours in a bruising kiss. Then you twisted your fingers in her dress, hauling her up to her feet and backing her toward the cheap laminate counter near the bathroom’s broken soap dispenser.

“Your turn,” you growled against her lips, voice rough, still panting.

Jane smirked, heat flashing in her eyes. “Oh? You think you can handle me?”

You answered by pushing her up onto the counter so her legs hung open in front of you, then fisting your hands in her clothes, dragging her closer until your hips were pressed flush between her thighs. She let out a low laugh, head tilting back, daring you to go further.

You accepted the challenge. Your fingers were already working at the buttons of her dress, popping them open one by one, exposing her pale skin inch by inch. The bra underneath was black lace, straining to hold her in, and you wasted no time—you tugged it down, freeing her breasts and cupping them in both hands, your thumbs brushing roughly over her nipples until she gasped.

“Fuck—” Jane hissed, eyes slamming shut, her body arching toward you.

You pinched and rolled her nipples, watching her bite down on her lip to stifle a moan, and then ducked your head down to taste her, dragging your tongue hot and wet over one aching peak. She jolted under your touch, her fingers tangling in your hair, pushing you closer, demanding more.

“You’re so—so eager,” she panted, a grin flashing through the haze of her arousal, “you gonna ruin me, baby?”

You pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, your grin dark. “Yes.”

You ran your hands over her thighs, spreading them wider, letting her feel the intent in every touch. Jane bit her lip harder, watching you from under her lashes, breathing ragged, waiting.

You pushed up the fabric of her dress, bunching the clothing around her hips and hooking a finger under the thin fabric of her matching lace panties and dragged them aside, revealing the slick heat already pooling there. Her pussy glistened, the sight making your head spin with hunger.

“Do you feel that?” you growled low, voice thick, “You’re dripping for me.”

She laughed, breathless, but her hips jerked toward you in a silent plea. “Shut up,” she shot back, cheeks flushed, “just do it.”

You didn’t hesitate—you dove forward, mouth crashing into her cunt, licking a long, slow stripe through her folds that made her cry out, knees knocking against the counter. You lapped at her with reckless abandon, the taste of her drowning you, tangling with the coppery tang of blood still on your tongue from earlier.

“Holy shit—” Jane gasped, one hand slamming to the mirror behind her to steady herself, the other clutching desperately at your hair.

You sucked her clit into your mouth, flicking your tongue over it in fast, hard circles until her thighs clenched around your head. Her taste was heaven and poison all at once, and you couldn’t get enough, groaning into her as you devoured her with everything you had left.

Jane’s head fell back against the mirror with a dull thud, her eyes rolling half-shut. “God, yes—just like that,” she choked out, her hips bucking against your mouth.

You answered by clicking two fingers between her folds, collecting all the arousal and spit and smearing it at her entrance. She must have felt the push of your fingertips, because she was mewling so loud you thought you’d have to gag her if not for the thumping music outside. You slid two fingers inside her, curling them up to find that perfect spot, your tongue never breaking its punishing rhythm. Her whole body jerked, a ragged cry ripping out of her chest as you fucked her with your fingers and licked her clit like you’d die without it.

“Fuck—fuck, you’re gonna make me—”

She tried to close her legs around you, but you shoved them apart again, growling, refusing to let her escape. Jane whimpered, her nails scraping against the mirror, her other hand fisting so tightly in your hair you thought she might rip it out.

You only pushed harder, faster, dragging another scream out of her, the filthy squelch of your fingers mixing with the wet, desperate sounds of your tongue. She was close—you felt it—the way her walls clenched, the way her thighs trembled, her entire body teetering on the knife’s edge.

“Come on,” you urged, voice muffled by her heat, “come for me, Jane. Let me see you.”

With a strangled moan that tore straight through the pounding music outside the bathroom, she shattered, her release crashing over you so hard she nearly collapsed off the counter. You held her steady, drinking down everything she gave you, refusing to let a drop go to waste.

When she finally sagged back against the mirror, gasping and twitching, you pulled away, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and looking up at her.

She was wrecked—absolutely wrecked—hair wild, lips parted, eyes blown wide with pleasure.

“Holy fuck,” she breathed, laughing brokenly, dragging you up to kiss her, tasting herself on your tongue, “you really are a monster.”

You smirked against her lips, heart still hammering.

“Only yours,” you promised.

Jane was still trembling on the counter, flushed and breathing hard, but the second her eyes locked onto yours—raw, hungry—something dark crossed her face. Before you could even process it, she lunged forward, knocking you back until your spine smacked against the filthy tiled floor. You barely had time to brace yourself before she was on you, straddling your hips, her thighs gripping your hips tight.

Her dress was still hanging open, exposing those perfect, heavy tits, nipples peaked and flushed from your earlier touch. Your gaze locked there instantly, practically drooling over the sight of her, the memory of how they’d felt in your mouth burning behind your teeth.

Jane smirked down at you, hair falling in a wild dark curtain around her face, and reached between you both to rip away the last scraps of your ruined clothes, tossing them aside like they meant nothing.

“You wanna stare?” she rasped, voice feral, “then take what you want.”

She leaned forward, pressing her chest against your mouth, and you couldn’t help it—you latched onto one perfect nipple, sucking hard, rolling your tongue over it while your hands roamed up to knead both of them greedily. Jane gasped, shuddering above you, grinding her slick heat down against your belly, smearing you with her arousal.

“God—” she panted, voice breaking, “you’re so fucking filthy…”

You groaned around her nipple, one hand sliding down to grip her ass, pulling her closer, urging her to move lower. Jane understood instantly—she shifted her hips, lining herself up with you until your soaked cunt was pressed right against hers, hot and dripping, your clits just barely grazing together.

For a second, the two of you locked eyes—wild, starved, feral—and then you both moved at once.

She started grinding down on you, slow at first, letting your folds slide together, the slick heat so intense it nearly made you black out. You bucked up to meet her, desperate to keep that friction, the heady, burning pleasure of her clit dragging against yours. Your legs shook with every pass.

“Fuck,” you gasped, “oh my god—”

Jane laughed, breathless, throwing her head back and riding you harder, rolling her hips in frantic circles. You watched her tits bounce with every movement, mesmerized, obsessed, reaching up to grope them again, pinching her nipples until she cried out.

“That’s it—” she growled, voice rough with need, “feel me, baby, feel how fucking wet you make me.”

You answered with a moan that echoed off the bathroom walls, your thighs shaking as you matched her rhythm, clit catching perfectly against hers with every desperate grind. It was messy, filthy, loud—the slap of wet skin against wet skin, your bodies practically steaming with sweat, the smell of sex and adrenaline and blood thick in the air.

Jane’s nails dug into your shoulders for leverage, her thighs flexing around your hips, her whole body trembling as she pushed harder, faster, chasing something brutal and unstoppable.

For a heartbeat, she just rocked against you lazily, letting your folds slide and catch, smearing more wetness everywhere—but then something seemed to snap in her, a spark behind her eyes, raw and hungry.

She shifted her weight, planting her hands against your chest for leverage, and lifted herself up slightly—enough that when she came down again, your clits slammed together with a sudden shock of pleasure that made both of you cry out.

“Fuck—!” you gasped, the jolt like she had just shot you with electricity.

Jane grinned, feral and sharp, hair wild around her flushed face. “Oh, you like that?” she rasped, and before you could answer, she was doing it again—lifting and dropping, bouncing her hips so your swollen clits smacked against each other, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight through your bellies as she rode you.

It was filthy, obscene—the wet slap of your cunts crashing together, the sticky sound of your juices mixing, your bodies jerking against each other as the rhythm picked up. Jane’s tits bounced beautifully with every hard drop of her hips, and you couldn’t resist reaching up to grab them, thumbs flicking over her dark, sensitive nipples until she moaned for you.

“Fucking watch me,” she growled, voice shaking, hips moving faster, harder, grinding in circles between every bounce to keep your clits tortured, your nerves on fire. “Watch me fuck you like this.”

Your eyes were locked on her, helplessly, hungrily—memorizing every filthy detail, the raw heat in her gaze, the way her thighs flexed, the way her perfect tits shook every time she came crashing down onto you.

Each slap of flesh felt like it could break you apart, clit to clit, harder, harder, the friction so perfect you thought you might burst from it. The pleasure built in savage waves, making your toes curl and your stomach seize. Jane was moaning now, desperate, grinding down between the bounces, dragging your swollen bud against hers until you were both soaked, dripping down your thighs.

“Jane—” you gasped, voice cracking, “I’m— I’m gonna—”

“Look at me,” she demanded, voice breaking, “I'm the only thing that matters right now—”

You forced your eyes open, meeting hers, drowning in the way she looked—powerful, unhinged, yours. You felt your orgasm tearing through you before you could even warn her, your body locking up under her, a ragged scream ripping out of your chest.

Jane was right behind you, a strangled sob of pleasure falling from her lips as her hips stuttered, grinding out her own climax against your throbbing cunt. You felt her gush against you, mixing with your own release, everything so hot and wet you thought you might pass out.

She collapsed forward then, still trembling, pressing her forehead against yours, trying to catch her breath.

“Holy shit,” she whispered, voice raw, “I fucking love you.”

You smiled, dazed, reaching up to wipe a strand of sweaty hair from her face.

“Love you too,” you rasped, completely spent, hands still roaming to cup her breasts one more time, because you couldn’t help yourself.

Jane let out a breathless laugh, leaning down to kiss you again—slow, sweet, achingly tender, a sharp contrast to the vicious, hungry way you’d just devoured each other.

You held each other there on the dirty bathroom floor, hearts hammering in sync, while the music from the bar pounded on outside, uncaring, drowning out the chaos of the world beyond those thin, battered walls.

It didn’t matter. The mission, the cops, the way you felt. Because you knew you were alone.

And it didn’t matter how alone you felt, because she would always be right there—an unmovable shield, fierce and unyielding, pressing her lips to your tears and telling you the night could never swallow you whole while she was breathing, that you would never have to stand alone again.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

๑ back to my masterlists

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bingobongocheerio · 18 days ago

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#creepypasta #creepypasta incorrect quotes #creepypasta x reader #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer #jeff woods x reader #jeff woods #jeffrey woods x reader #jeffrey woods #clockwork #clockwork x reader #natalie ouellette x reader #natalie ouellette

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sterifels-blog · 6 months ago

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creepypasta characters – how they’d react to you being upset over a small inconvenience 🤏

BEN drowned

•mocking sarcasm: “oh no, did the big scary printer jam again? total apocalypse. truly.” what became clear in his death, was he did, in fact, take his childish personality with him. he is no better than jeff when it comes down to teasing you for your dismays.

•playful teaser. he glitches around the room, mimicking your upset tone in a distorted voice, just to annoy you. it's spiteful, a little ignorant, but it's something you've come to grow used to. some things were just inevitable with BEN, and his torment was one of those things.

•offers digital comfort. BEN hacks a random game to create a hidden message for you, like “cheer up, loser.” if you don't reciprocate any sort of reaction back- you best believe he will be petty enough to rig a match for you. not so you can win, no. so you lose. just to agitate you again.

•awkward, awkward softness: if you’re seriously upset, he stammers, “hey, uh, don’t cry. i… don’t know how to deal with that.” very likely, he panics and goes to grab someone like jack or jane.

•weird with distractions. he'll float around, humming the zelda theme song until you laugh or throw something at him. if it works, it works. either way, you're too focused on smiling, or trying to hit him.

•over-the-top suggestion: “want me to corrupt their computer files? that’ll show them.”

•king of small gestures. leaves a pixelated heart drawn in a game you’re playing, then pretends it wasn’t him.

bloody painter:

•he observes quietly. sits in eerie silence, studying your emotions like he’s painting a mental portrait.

•when he is finished staring (although, admittedly, he does quite like the sight of you), he will offer some deadpan advice:

•“if it doesn’t matter in five years, it’s not worth ruining your eyeliner over.”

•if verbal reassurance doesn't do it for you, willingly, he'll engage in a paint-based gesture for his angel. he draws something comforting or silly (alternatively, absolutely crude) on a scrap of paper and hands it to you without a word, hoping it makes some difference.

•dark humor (where it is, and isn't appropriate.) “want me to take care of whoever pissed you off?” half-joking. maybe. if you say no, there is some genuine disappointment left lingering in his eyes. a missed opportunity to stock-up.

•unexpected comfort. gently touches your face and says some cheesy bullshit like, “the colors of sadness suit you, but i’d rather see you smile". he knows he's succeeded in making you feel something other than upset, when you are pressing your palm against his face and pushing him away with a groan of annoyance.

•will go extreme measures to make you a distracting gift. offers to paint you something. it’s his way of saying sorry.

•serious effort: if you’re really upset, he’ll spend hours creating something meaningful to cheer you up. although you'd clearly specified you didn't want him to maul the poor man who'd taken the last pint of your favorite ice cream flavor; the red coating of the little house he'd made you (in respect to the small abode you will "most definitely have" together), spoke otherwise to him listening.

•it's fucking disgusting, but don't discard it. it's the.. 'sweetest' way he shows that he cares.

clockwork:

•chaotic comfort. immediately threatens to stab whatever inconvenienced you. “who do i need to ‘fix’ for this?”

•pactical help (or a lack thereof): she does actually try to solve the problem for you, but gets frustrated if it’s not instant.

•(unhelpful) teasing: “aww, does my little clock need winding? let’s fix your mood.”

•joking aggression: “you’re upset? try getting stabbed in the eye and tell me how you feel". she soon after realizes this probably wasn't the best way to get through to you, and instead resorts to gently carding her fingers through your hair, sitting in an awkward silence after.

•when the silence gets to be too much, the most rational conclusion she could come up with was a random distraction. tosses something shiny or makes a loud noise to snap you out of it, almost, most definitely getting a sick kick of amusement when you jump in a startle.

•clumsy affection: roughly pulls you into a hug afterwards and says, “you’ll be fine. i’ve seen you handle worse.”

•this is shortly after followed by a soft admission. “i don’t like seeing you like this. it’s weird.” no sympathy on her face, just her nose being scrunched up in discomfort. but you can tell she means her words.. more for her sake.

eyeless jack

•jack is a quiet observer. he always has been, and will be. he notices you’re upset but waits for you to bring it up, not wanting to push you down a further slope than you were already on.

•when you finally begin to talk to him, for the most part, he simply listens. but if he notices it's getting to be too much, he'll offer some gentle reassurance: his voice is calm, almost nonchalant as he says, “it’s okay. you can talk to me.” he means it.

•words aren't easy for him. he's used to being silent, tucked away to the confines of his laboratory. it's why he chooses a more physical approach. cooking comfort. jack makes you a meal without being asked—though you might not want to know the ingredients. just eat it, and thank him.

•when he does speak, he offers the most practical advice out of the bunch: “you’ll survive. you’re stronger than whatever this is.”

•he's cold, but caring: “if it’s not life-threatening, it’s not worth worrying about. but... i get it.”

•soft-spoken comfort: stays close by, quietly grounding you with his presence. he'll offer you a spot in his laboratory for the time being, leaving you to watch as he hustles and bustles about. he isn't a fan of people in his space- in the slightest. but for you, he doesn't mind the company, so long as it helps. he won't directly admit it, but seeing you upset does something to his heart.

•it unfortunately, wouldn't be jack without some out of pocket, and highly untimed dark humor. he's working on his current 'patient', his scalpel against the lining of their abdomen when he would pause, as though an idea surfaced.

•“would harvesting an organ cheer you up? no? worth a shot.”

hoodie

•takes a more casual approach compared to the others. nudges your shoulder and says some nonchalant shit like; “what’s got you so down?”

•followed by some super-chill reassurance: “it’s not the end of the world. i’ve seen worse.”

•says it in a tone that makes him sound like he genuinely doesn't give a fuck, and is instead saying it in prayer god gives him a second chance for being 'kind'. he does, genuinely care however. he wouldn't have asked if he didn't.

•when he realizes it's something 'trivial' (in his mind), he'll give you some lighthearted distraction. hoodie offers to hang out or go on a random drive to take your mind off it. if you accept to hang out, you're both watching some rag-tag channel that your old, boxy ass television could pull up. it's absolutely shit. if you accept the drive, the radio is on, playing some old song that helps you clear your mind. the two of you definitely get going.

•if it's not the radio you're focused on, it's his singing. it's either god awful, and it makes you want to die more than whatever inconvenienced you at first, or he should have been a choir boy.

•snack attack: you two pull into a gas station along the way to fill up the old piece of rust. he goes in, comes back out with a pack of cigarettes and some chips in hand. he'll carelessly throw the bag of chips at you and say, “here. don’t say i never do anything for you.”

•soft teasing: “you’re cute when you’re mad, but let’s not make it a habit.”

•followed by some subtle care: puts his hoodie around your shoulders if you look especially down, or you're out late on your drive and it's getting cold.

jason the toymaker

•100% makes a toy bribe: instantly offers to make you a custom toy to cheer you up. “what’s your favorite color again?” it's cheesy, but it does have it's odd way of working it's magic.

•jason can get into quite an overprotective mode, often getting himself frustrated when he cant disect the root of your problem. “what caused this? tell me so I can fix it." .. "am i going to kill them..? what does it matter?"

•the answer is yes. yes, he is.

•soft-spoken comfort: “don’t worry. i’ll always take care of you.” he has a way of reassuring you even when you have your doubts, almost with an expertise that surprises you. if you were ever questioning his genuinity, he's answered for you.

•possessive guilt-tripper. “i don’t like seeing my favorite person like this. smile for me, will you?” he's sweet, in the worst of ways. jason knew all he had to do was flash you that charming smile of his, and you'd bend to his will. it was both a curse and a blessing.

•makes up some distracting hobby. he invites you to join him on a whim in making something to calm your nerves. (he definitely ends up taking over your craft.)

•encourages gentle insistence much like bloody painter. “you’re allowed to be upset, but not for long. it doesn’t suit you.”

•creepy but.. comforting? reassurance: “nothing bad can happen to you while i’m here. i'll make sure of it.” you aren't allowed out of his sights for a while.

jeff the killer

•mockery overload. “aww, you’re upset? should I call the waaah-mbulance?” he's a fucking asshole and he knows it, but his emotional boundaries hold no shame. if you knew any better, you would think he didn't care if he made you feel better or worse.

•teasing to comfort: purposefully annoys you until you either laugh or yell at him. he is 100%, more than likely aiming for the latter, getting a sick sense of satisfaction from knowing you're wound up now because of him. “see? you’re not upset anymore!”

•he's a twat with territorial anger: if it’s someone else’s fault, he’s immediately ready to fight, thinking of the most irrational ways to kill someone for your sake (though there is already nothing rational about him). “who do i need to carve a smile into?”

•though a selfish sod, he does have some genuinely surprising softness when it comes to you. if you’re genuinely upset, he awkwardly wraps his arm around your shoulder and says, “it’s fine. just... chill, okay?” he's rubbing your back until his hand is numb, or you become agitated.

•clumsy reassurance: “you’ve got me, so who cares about dumb stuff like that?”

•even throughout the comforting, his offer of violence still stands. “say the word, and i’ll make it disappear. permanently.”

•jeff is the absolute fucking worst for guilt deflection. if he caused the inconvenience, he’ll deny responsibility, but quietly try to make it better. he sees admitting to his faults as a weakness, but a few hours later, when he‐ again‐, sees your mood hasn't improved— he's begrudgingly coming over and taking your hand to apologize. his words are lazy sounding, but they are true. it pisses him off that he has to go such lengths to make you feel better, but in the end, it's you. so he'll cope.

jane the killer

•she is a direct comfort sort of woman: “what’s wrong? talk to me.”

•when she notices its an re-occuring issue bothering you more than usual, she'll go into problem-solving mode. jane listens carefully and offers solutions, even if you just want to vent. she loves listening to you talk, even if it's under more unfortunate circumstances.

•has a protective streak much like her male counterpart: “if it’s someone else’s fault, i’ll handle it.” and she means it

•queen of tough love. it's her kingdom. “you’re stronger than this. don’t let it get to you.” she's seen too many people react irrationally because of minor inconveniences (jeff), and she would hate to see you deliberately get into trouble because of something as 'simple' as frustration.

•silent presence: if words won’t help, she stays with you until you feel better. if your room is a mess, she'll clean your clothes off the floor, fold, and carry your laundry to the washer while you relax on your bed. she won't let you leave until she's positive you're at least feeling a little better about your situation, and even then, she's by your side for most the day.

•though she can be just as stubborn as anyone else, jane does make a soft admission: “i hate seeing you so upset. tell me how to help.”

•makes some gentle distraction (unlike clockwork): she suggests watching a movie or doing something fun together to lift your spirits. she will likely end up doing your makeup, the two of you on the floor together until your spirits start to rise.

laughing Jack (i hate this motherfucker)

•over-the-top antics because he's just like that, unfortunately. he's a piece of shit, but tries to make you laugh with ridiculous jokes or obnoxious pranks. a for effort, i guess. he's giving it his best shot.

•much like jeff, being a complete dick, there is that aspect of mock concern: “oh no! we must alert the circus of your sorrow!” sarcastic cunt.

•there is some aspect of unexpected sweetness with him, i would think (hope). if you’re genuinely upset, he tones it down and says, “hey, I don’t like seeing you like this.”

•he's crouching down onto his knees as you sit on the edge of your bed, his large, ugly ass hands cupping your face the best he can without shanking you with his gross, long fingers. his thumbs 'gently' rub your cheeks as he let's you breathe your frustration out.

•clownish ass distractions: pulls out a random toy or silly object to cheer you up. from out of fuck-all nowhere, he pulls a doll out from behind its back. it's even more hideous than him, which is difficult. it's stuffing is gruesomely ripped out, instead, packed full with grotesque looking candies. he'll awkwardly discard it on the floor when he sees it's only made your mood worse. what an idiot.

•chaotic energy: “let’s go do something fun! or dangerous! or both!”

•you don't feel like doing anything

•gentle honesty: “i'm not good at this comforting stuff, but I’m here for you.”, even though you already knew that. though the semblance is appreciated.

kagekao

•you're still a victim of playful mockery. "you look adorable when you’re mad. like a tiny storm cloud". he's mocking you while you want to punch him into a smear.

•teasing distractions. he pokes at your cheeks or steals something of yours to make you chase him. he genuinely does not care that you feel murderous tendencies towards him at the moment. it's his life mission to torment you eternally.

•jovial comfort: “don’t worry, i’ll take care of everything. or, at least, pretend I did.”

•surprise gifts. when he knows he's pushed you too far, he will opt to leave you a random (sometimes unsettling) trinket to cheer you up. he knows he's the source of your agitation, so he tries his 'best' to make up for it.

•more lighthearted annoyance. “you know i can’t take you seriously when you’re pouting like that, right?”

•unexpected wisdom from someone who is such a cunt to deal with. “life’s too short to stress over these things. laugh it off.”

•silently lurks nearby until you calm down, offering his silent presence as comfort.

masky

•masky will often show a reluctant concern, not outright admitting he's worried about your fluctuating attitude, but instead inviting you to chat. “what’s wrong now?” his tone is gruff, but he genuinely cares.

•practical help: masky fixes the problem (if possible) without saying much about it; especially when it comes down to it being an issue with anything containing an engine. if you're frustrated by an issue you're having with your vehicle, calmly, he'll tell you to give him the keys, and if he's feeling nice enough, he'll invite you out to hold the flashlight for him. just make sure you keep it steady.

•vaguely annoyed, but supportive: “seriously? you’re upset over that? fine, let’s deal with it.” he's the type to teach you about fixing your own issues, so you'll know how to deal with it next time.

•protective side: “if you need help with this, come to me. you don't need to be going to.. random guys to fix your car."

•he's definitely jealous at the thought of you going to anyone else for help but him.

•silent comfort if it's anything else that physically, he cant fix. he sits near you, not saying a word but making it clear he’s there for you.

•backhanded affection: “you’re too stubborn to let this keep you down, right?” he knows you'll take it as he's doubting you; and that you'll smarten up quick.

•masky gives you grudging hugs. awkwardly, he pulls you into a hug if you’re really upset— often on the porch as he's having a smoke. you'll be sitting on the steps, tucked up to his side. if he feels nice enough- his jacket will end up slung over your shoulders.

slenderman

•i'm going to be flat with you, he does not care.

•but if he did, he would be calm and composed. it doesn’t affect him, so he has no reason to reacf but to calm you down. “you’re letting this get to you? that’s beneath you.” he sounds unamused.

•stoic support. slenderman offers silent reassurance with his unyielding presence. sometimes he's there, sometimes he isn't. but, you always have that lingering feeling of him being close by. it's both comforting and frightening.

•intimidation tactic: “shall i remove the source of your distress?” he’s deadly serious, for the most part.

•he's slightly patronizing. he doesn't really grasp a sense of confliction about this like you do. he doesn't really get why you're making such a fuss over something so blatant. “this is not worth your energy. focus on what truly matters.”

•both helps and frustrates you more. sometimes it's pointless to explain to him.

•..somewhat gentle understanding. if you’re truly distressed, he places a hand on your shoulder and will tell you to excuse yourself from any activities later in the day.

•eerie distraction: creates a serene yet unnerving environment to take your mind off things. the effort is.. there.

•cryptic advice: “all things are temporary. even this feeling.”

ticci toby

•dry sarcasm “wow, the world’s ending because of this. guess we should all panic.” his tone is teasing but not mean-spirited. he just doesn't understand that it's truly bothering you to that extent, until you breakdown to him.

•gentle understanding: “yeah, okay, I get it. sometimes the little stuff just… builds up.” he leans back and listens without pushing you. he knows you're already overwhelmed, and makes it a point to give you some space while still being there.

•subtle comfort. he offers you his jacket or quietly sits beside you, muttering, “you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. i'm not going anywhere.” like masky, he keeps you close to his side, whether sitting on a log or walking down the path. he'll encourage you to hold onto his arm.

•toby has a protective streak: “tell me who or what caused this. i’ll take care of it.” his voice is calm, but there’s an edge that means he’s serious. he doesn't like the idea of anyone pushing you around— only he can play around with you like that.

•gounding presence: if you’re spiraling, he places a hand on your shoulder or holds your hand. “breathe, okay? just focus on me for a minute.” too many times he's had to do this by himself. he understands the complications of losing yourself— and if you don't have to go through it alone, he won't allow you to.

•dull humor to lighten the mood. "if it makes you feel better, i've probably done something way stupider than whatever you’re upset about.”

•quiet reassurance: “you’ll get through this. you always do. it’s not as big as it feels right now, i promise.” he speaks softly but firmly, making sure you know he’s in your corner. he always is and will be. he's a bit more gentle than the rest.

#eyeless jack x reader #hoodie x reader #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta x reader #jeff the killer x reader #masky x reader #ben drowned #jane the killer x reader #clockwork x reader #ticci toby x reader #slenderman x reader #bloody painter #jason the toymaker #laughing jack x reader #creepypasta #writing #writers on tumblr

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yoyomomiko · 6 months ago

Note

Heyyy could you make a fluffy comfort oneshot of ticci toby x ignored reader? So like the reader tends to not be listened to and like, doesnt talk much because of it? If that makes sense! Just a super cute fic full of reassurance and physical affection/words of affirmation lol! Thankyou! 💗

꒰ ☆ ꒱ — “HEARD”

pairings: ticci toby x female reader

wc: 1.1k+

cw: angst (?), cringe, not proofread, also probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!! the creepypasta mansion is real!! >:(

— (a/n): i actually haven't written anything in soooo long!!! also i'm extremely bad at writing comfort so i'm very sorry :(( -> m.list

You were used to silence.

Not the peaceful kind, the kind that wraps you in warmth and lets you breathe, no. Yours was the heavy, suffocating kind. The kind of silence that clung to you because no one ever truly listened.

It wasn't that you never spoke. You did. Sometimes. When it felt important.

But your words were often brushed aside, ignored, or spoken over. So, with time, you just sort of... Stopped trying.

It was easier that way. Easier not to try.

Because trying meant disappointment, and disappointment always hurt more than silence.

It wasn't hard to see why Toby had fallen for you.

You were both outsiders in your own ways, different kinds of overlooked. The moment he met you, something just clicked in his brain.

He didn't talk over you. Didn't brush you aside. Didn't make you feel like you had to fight to be heard.

And yet you still held back.

Even in the mansion, surrounded by people who were supposed to be your people, it was no different. Conversations just flowed around you, and if you tried to join in, it was like no one would even notice. Sometimes, someone would glance your way, but by the time you worked up the courage to speak, the moment would pass.

And tonight was no different.

You sat on the worn out couch, curled up in the corner, listening as the others talked. Ben was ranting, Jeff was being as loud as ever, and Toby was laughing along.

You saw a gap in the conversation, a tiny opening where you thought that maybe it was the time to speak up. All you had to do was wait for Ben to finish his sentence, and then you could finally start.

"I–"

"That reminds me of–"

Jeff quickly yelled out, not even acknowledging you. You couldn't even finish your first word, the subject just changed in an instant.

Your mouth snapped shut, the grip you had on your shirt tightening. Of course.

Your chest ached, but you swallowed it down. You had no reason to feel upset. This was normal. You should be used to it by now.

So you did what you always did. You quietly forced yourself to your feet, slipping out of the room unnoticed.

Or at least that's what you thought...

...

Toby had noticed.

It had taken him longer than he'd like to admit, but once he saw it, he couldn't stop seeing it. The way your eyes would light up for half a second before fading again. The way you always shrank into the background, like you believed you didn't deserve to take up space.

And then there was tonight.

He saw the way your lips parted, just barely, before the conversation swallowed you whole. He saw the way your shoulders dropped, how you curled in on yourself before quietly leaving the room.

He wasn't the smartest guy, but he knew that wasn't normal.

So, without hesitation, he pushed himself off the couch and followed after you.

...

You were sitting outside, knees pulled to your chest, staring at the dark trees surrounding the mansion. The cold air nipped at your skin, but you didn't really care. It was better out here, quieter.

A soft thud sounded beside you.

You turned your head just in time to see Toby plop down, his face twitching for a quick second. He didn't say anything at first, just sat there, hands fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. It was strange, Toby wasn't really the type to sit still.

"You didn't have to come out here." You glanced away, a frown slowly forming on your lips.

"But I wanted to." He replied, his gaze softening.

Silence.

You weren't sure what to say, so you didn't speak up. Just like you always did.

"Are you okay?" Toby spoke up after a while, his voice unusually soft.

You hesitated. You weren't used to being asked that. At least not in a way that felt... Real.

"Yeah." You lied, gently nodding your head, avoiding his gaze.

"Liar." He shot back.

You glared at him, but there was a grin plastered to his face, eyes filled with something warm that made your stomach twist.

"Come on." He nudged your shoulder. "I saw what happened."

"It's nothing, I'm used to it." You felt a bad taste in your mouth, like you were about to cry. Your chest tightened, and then came that same heavy and suffocating feeling you always had.

"That's not– That's not alright." He shifted so he was fully facing you, his knee brushing against yours. "You shouldn't have to– to be 'used to it'."

You shrugged, trying to ignore the lump forming in your throat. "It's not like it's on purpose. I just... I don't matter as much as everyone else–"

Toby's entire body went still. For a second, you wondered if you had said something wrong, which you did. Then, before you could react, he leaned closer, his forehead gently pressing against yours.

"Don't–... Don't say that." He mumbled, his voice was softer than you had ever heard it.

Your breath hitched as your heart skipped a beat.

"You matter." Toby continued, tilting his head so his nose brushed against yours. "I hear you. Even when no one else does, I do."

Your eyes burned, but you blinked rapidly, forcing the feeling down. "Toby..."

"I mean it." He whispered, his hands coming up to gently cradle your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. "I love hearing you talk. I love the way your voice sounds. I love the way your eyes light up when you get excited. And I hate that you don't feel like you can share it."

"It's hard..." A shaky breath left you as you prayed that the tears in your eyes weren't visible.

"I know." Toby whispered. "But I promise you never have to be quiet around me." He smiled, tilting his head playfully. "Actually, I insist you talk my ears off. Give me all the random thoughts in that pretty little head of yours."

A smile tugged at your lips, and before you could stop it, a small snort escaped you.

"There it is, there's that smile!" His smile widened as he gently kissed your forehead before pulling back to look at you again.

Your chest felt lighter, like maybe, just maybe, you weren't as invisible as you thought.

Toby pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in warmth. He rested his chin on top of your head as he started swaying you gently. "I love you." He mumbled into your hair. "I'm gonna make sure you never feel alone again."

And for the first time in a long time, you actually believed it.

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ribcagecavityy · 5 months ago

Note

CRPs with a Pregnant! Female! Reader (including Lexi <3)

Like their darling joined the crew before finding out any teh pregnancy. Some can either be the parent or the baby is someone else's (prior to relationships bc some ppl don't find out Abt babies for months)

If you're possible!

Any CRPs you want!

Creepypasta X Pregnant!Female!Reader

Characters: Jeff The Killer, Eyeless Jack, Ticci Toby, Masky, Hoodie, Clockwork, Jane The Killer, Lexi Kills

Summary: You, the reader, discover you’re pregnant and tell your partner.

♡

Jeff The Killer

jeff never took anything seriously. not life, not consequences, not even you. everything with him felt temporary, like you were just something to pass the time. maybe that’s why it took you so long to tell him. maybe that’s why you had to ambush him just to get him to listen.

“what’s up, doll?” he flopped onto the couch, grinning lazily, but his hands twitched inside his hoodie pockets. restless.. or maybe just impatient.

“can you be serious for a second?” he rolled his eyes but nodded. “jeff… i’m—well, i’m pregnant.”

silence.

his grin lingered for half a second, like he thought it was a joke. then it dropped.

“shit.” his voice was flat, serious in a way you’d never heard before. “you forreal?”

“jeff-“ frustration tightened your throat. your eyes burned. “obviously i’m being serious!”

his hands shot up defensively. “woah, okay.” then, hesitantly, they found your shoulders. “hey, come on, don’t cry. we’ll, uh, we’ll deal with this. come here.”

he pulled you in, his arms locking around you, his lips pressing against the top of your head. his chest rose and fell too fast. he was terrified.

Eyeless Jack

jack was always attentive. always doting. even though it had only been a few weeks, even though you had barely done anything, he treated you like you hung the stars. so when you started getting sick every morning, he tore the place apart trying to figure out what was wrong.

he paced outside the bathroom, restless, waiting. the second the door creaked open, he snapped to attention, still as stone.

“so?” his voice was urgent.

you stepped out, silent. then, “it’s positive.”

jack snatched the test from your hands, holding it close to his mask, inspecting it like he thought he might’ve read it wrong.

“but we haven’t…” his voice trailed off. then, he said quietly, “…oh.”

“i’m sorry, jack,” your stomach twisted, wishing you could see his face, to see his reaction. “you didn’t sign up for this…”

he looked up suddenly. “are you kidding? i’ve always wanted to be a dad.”

Ticci Toby

broken people always seemed to find each other. that was true for you and toby. something about being together had healed you both, in ways you didn’t even realize you needed. you understood each other. no one else ever really had.

but finding out you were pregnant was the first time you had ever been truly afraid that he might leave.

“toby.” your voice came out weaker than you intended.

he turned immediately, crunching back toward you through the leaves, his head tilting in concern. “w-what’s up, baby?”

your breath trembled, your fists clenching at your sides. “i’m pregnant.”

his hand, just about to touch you, froze mid-air. then he stumbled back. his goggles were ripped up in an instant, his mouthguard yanked down as he struggled for air. he doubled over, his breaths short and sharp. for a second, you saw it, shock. brief excitement. then, crushing over everything else, doom.

“toby?” your voice was barely above a whisper. you reached for him. he stepped back.

“i-i can’t—” his hands flew to his face, gripping at his hair as he turned away, pacing. “no—i-i can’t, i ca-can’t be h-him.”

your heart ached. you lunged forward, grabbing his arm, pulling him back before he could spiral further.

“you won’t be.” your voice was firm, your grip unwavering. “you’re better than that.”

his wide, panicked brown eyes locked onto yours. then, slowly—his whole body collapsed against you. his lungs heaved, his fingers clutching onto you like a lifeline.

Masky

in your relationship, there were always three. you, masky, and slenderman. whatever that thing wanted, it got. no matter what you were doing, no matter where you were, masky would drop everything and go like a soldier answering a call to war. you hated it. he hated it. he hated that he had no control. and he hated himself for dragging you into it, for putting you in danger. so when you found out, you already knew how this would go.

“i have something to tell you.” you stood in the doorway, gripping the frame like it could keep you steady.

“can it wait?” masky asked, his voice muffled behind the mask as he cocked his gun. “i need to go.”

“no.” but he was already at the door. you had to move fast, had to grab his arm to make him stop. “masky- tim. i’m pregnant.”

silence. long. suffocating.

“…what?” his voice was quiet. miserable.

“i’m pregnant.” you repeated, softer this time. but he’d heard you the first time.

his fingers twitched. his eyes, brown and distant behind the mask, flickered with something unreadable.

“i—” his throat bobbed. “i can’t. i’m not putting a kid through this. let alone mine.”

your breath caught. “what-? are… are you leaving?” your voice broke, tears rising fast.

“i can’t do this.” his voice cracked too, just a little. his eyes blurred. “i’m sorry.”

the door slammed shut behind him. you didn’t move. didn’t breathe. just stood there, staring at the space where he used to be.

Hoodie

hoodie was quiet. always had been. he didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to—he showed you he loved you in the little things. the way he always made sure you ate. the way he pulled you closer in his sleep. the way he tried, so hard, to keep you away from all of this. he wanted to protect you. and for the most part, he did. but the idea of losing him still terrified you.

you stepped outside, finding him on the steps, a cigarette between his fingers. his mask was pulled up just enough to let him smoke. you sat beside him, weaving your arm through his. he turned slightly at the contact, his lips twitching like he was about to smile.

“hi.” you murmured. he huffed a quiet laugh. “i have something to tell you.”

he turned, stubbing out his cigarette before pulling his mask back down. then he faced you.

“we’re having a baby.”

his whole body tensed. you squeezed your eyes shut, hating the way your chest tightened at his silence. but then his hands, warm and steady, cupped the sides of your face. his fingers threaded through your hair, gentle, deliberate. your eyes fluttered open, finding his mask inches from your face, his touch grounding you.

“really?” he said softly, his voice warm enough to melt the fear inside you. “that’s great.”

Clockwork

being with clockwork was the most fun you’d ever had. even in such a short time, she had turned your whole world upside down. she was reckless in the best way—sarcastic in a way that always made you laugh, drove too fast, lived too fast. but you could keep up. until you couldn’t. you didn’t know why, not at first. then you took the test.

“shit!” your heart pounded as you stared at the result.

“let me see!” before you could stop her, clockwork burst into the bathroom, snatching the test from your hands. you yelped, but she ignored you, narrowing her eyes at the two bold lines staring back at her. “shit indeed.”

you searched her face, waiting for something. panic. regret. maybe even fear. instead…

“guess we gotta get one of those baby on board stickers, huh?”

“nat, be serious!” you snatched the test back, your hands shaking. “you, a baby, and a car should never be a combination that exists, anyway.”

“hey, i’m trying to be supportive!” she huffed, throwing her hands up. then she exhaled, rolling her shoulders back, composing herself. when she looked at you again, her green eye was soft. “okay.” she took your hands, squeezing them. “we’ve got this. we’ll handle this. i love you.”

the breath you’d been holding finally escaped. “i love you too.”

Jane The Killer

jane was the most responsible person you had ever met. it showed in everything she did. especially when it came to you. she made sure you ate, kept up with your tasks, got places on time. but more than anything, she loved you. even in the short time you’d been together, she loved you fully. so when you found out you were pregnant, because of something so irresponsible, you were terrified to tell her. you weren’t sure you could.

“hello, my love.” her voice was soft as she came up behind you, resting her chin on your shoulder. her hands followed, gliding down your shoulders, pressing lightly against your arms. she was examining you, the way she always did. “why are you tense?”

your throat tightened. you gripped the windowsill. “i have something to tell you.”

jane immediately spun you around, her black eyes sharp, scanning you like she could find the answer herself. “what happened?”

“i messed up.” you choked, the words barely out before the tears followed. “i’m pregnant.”

jane stilled. “oh.” her voice was unreadable for a second. then she took a breath, steadied herself. “how far along?”

“three months.” you sniffled, swiping at your tears.

jane exhaled slowly. her shoulders relaxed. you blinked at her in confusion. then it clicked. you had only been together for two.

“come here.” she said. she pulled you into her arms, holding you tight. “it’s going to be okay. i’ve got you.”

Lexi Kills

lexi was always hard to read. always distant. always somewhere else, even when she was right in front of you. the only reason you were together at all was because, once, just once, she had been vulnerable. so telling her wasn’t easy.

“lex’?” you walked up to where she was polishing her axe on the porch.

“mhm?” she barely replied.

“i…” you wanted her attention, but you scarcely got it unless you demanded it, “um… so.. i’m pregnant.”

she reacted like you had hit her. her body jerked, her green eyes snapping to yours, wide and startled. for a second, she just stared. then she stood, searching your face like she didn’t trust what she heard.

“really?” her voice was cautious.

“yes.” your own voice was barely above a whisper, your shoulders shaking as you fought to hold back tears.

she didn’t look away. “i’m bad with kids.” her eyes were sharp, unreadable.

“you don’t have to-” but before you could finish, a tear slipped free. she moved instantly. her arms locked around you, so tight you could barely breathe.

“don’t be an idiot,” she murmured, her fingers threading through your hair, holding you closer. “and don’t cry, either. we’ll be fine.”

♡

hehe i had so much fun doing this one, tysm for the idea :3

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skinwalker-bratz · 1 year ago

Text

💔 The creeps getting rejected

________________________________

🕑 | Clockwork

Oh... Really?

Not that she cared.

She didn't even want to be with you 😒

Just don't go after her... She wants to be alone now.

💕 | Nina the killer

WHAT?

After everything she did for you?

She's your biggest fan, she even carved your name on her arm, and changed her entire aesthetic to match you... 🥺

She will probably isolate herself in her own room and cry all night. (She'll try again tomorrow)

🪓 | Tobias

Serious? Okay then...

At first he doesn't know how to react, but after processing everything he just accepts it.

Well, if you want, you can just be friends, right? He won't try anything else if you don't want him to.

Maybe he'll be down if he sees you interested in someone else but he'll suck it up.

🔪 | Jeff

What do you mean you don't want him? He's EVERYBODY'S type.

Maybe you want Jeff but you don't know it.

He just wants you to do a test with him, walk hand in hand, maybe give him some hugs and kisses.

When you least expect it, you'll be married with three children and a golden retriever, but just to see if you have feelings for him.

🐈‍⬛ | Jane the killer

Wow, she was sure you felt something...

It's okay, she will respect your choice.

Maybe she swallows her feelings and tries to forget you.

Don't talk to her now, she will need time.

🧣 | Liu

Ah, you don't feel it, ok then.

You two can be friends right?

He will act like he never felt anything for you.

Next week he will be in love with someone else.

🫀 | EJ

Damn bro...

It's because of him right?

Don't feel bad, he's used to it, it's okay...

He just thought you were interesting and that maybe things could be different and that he would have a chance this time...

🧸 | Jason the toymaker

How... Dare... You...

Bro, if you're just needy and trying to annoy him, you did it.

How the fuck do you not like him? This is impossible.

Well, if he turns you into a toy, you wouldn't be able to reject him, right?

#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #eyeless jack #jeff the killer #ticci toby #creepypasta x reader #jane the killer #nina the killer #clockwork #jason the toymaker #homicidal liu #eyeless jack x reader #jeff the killer x reader #homicidal liu x reader #clockwork x reader #ticci toby x reader #jason the toymaker x reader #nina the killer x reader #creepypasta headcannons

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520-elic · 17 days ago

Note

Which of the creeps do you think would love chubby women?

The creeps (Ticci Toby, Jeff the Killer, Eyeless Jack, and Clockwork) x Chubby!fem!reader headcanons

Author notes ; My personal opinion is that the proxies would not gaf of what your body type is. But I will say that Jeff, Eyeless Jack, Toby, and Clockwork are the most feral about it

Contains; suggestiveness

Ticci Toby

HES ALL FUCKING OVER YOU.

No, actually, he won't stop unless you tell him to. Toby is always very fidgety with his fingers, having to touch or mess with something in his hands to soothe him. But you're right here next to him, so of course he'll absentmindedly grab onto the fat of your sides or thighs

He wouldn't even realize how much he's touching you since he subconsciously does it

You best bet that if you ever feel insecure about yourself, his lips are all over your tummy, cheeks, thighs, etc

Please lay on him. He loves the pressure on his body, it brings him comfort.

Sit on his face WHAT OH MY GOD WHO SAID THAT

.. might or might not try to suck your tits

Huge perv but will try to suppress it since he's afraid of making you uncomfortable, but will make you squirm with how much he's touching you

Jeff the Killer

Bites you a lot. You're gonna be looking like a busted up chew toy almost every day

Ugh he'll definitely get worked up by running his knife over your love handles and stomach rolls, relishes in the way you react to the cool metal against your skin

Grabs you by your hips a lot, loves squishing that part of you. Jeff will pull you into his lap while running his hands up your shirt in front of everyone. Possessive bastard

Wear something revealing your chest or thighs and it's coming off IMMEDIATELY

Huge fucking freak, he's like that one sonic gif with the tongue 👅

He's drooling all over you, sorry not sorry

Will fuck you infront of a mirror to watch how you squirm and move, grabbing you by your hair down into the mattress while he watches every move

Eyeless Jack

Jack will also be drooling all over you too LMAO

These boys have no chill. They will absolutely have their hands all over you. But with Jack, it's more of a possession thing rather than obsessiveness. He doesn't want anyone else touching you like this BUT him #needthat

Just imagine these big claws scooping around your sides and stomach while having you on his lap.. OH MY GOD AHSHH

Traces the tips of his claw-like fingers over your thighs whenever you wear shorts, leaving behind red lines. Yeah, it probably is obsessiveness too

He wants to sink his teeth into you so bad but knows the consequences, so he just has to settle with kissing you feverishly where he wants to bite down

Jack definitely wants to put honey all over you and lick you up like a lollypop. Or animals' blood. He'll get so aroused just by licking it off your body that he'll cum in his pants, completely untouched

Clockwork

More subtle about how she touches you, but she will most likely grope your ass or tits when she passes behind you when nobody looks

Genuinely loves how warm you are, so be prepared when cold hands run up your shirt suddenly

Wants to always be the big spoon when she's cuddling with you in bed just to have her arms around your tummy (and up your shirt) But whenever she lays on top of you in bed when trying to sleep after a hard day, her head AND face will be in your chest

Natalie is 100% into body worshipping. Her lips hover above your sternum, then slowly takes her time to kiss down while breathing out soft praises

LOVES having you in her lap. It doesn't have to be for sexual reasons either. She just loves having you there while she watches a movie or rants about her time during a mission

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oldwritingm · 1 year ago

Text

Thinking thoughts about these guys again

Creepypasta/MH - Things That Make Them Think of You

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Jane the Killer, Clockwork, Nina the Killer, Tim/Masky, "Ticci" Toby

Jeff the Killer

Violence. Specifically, committing it

I know that sounds bad, but he gets so high off of that stuff

The adrenaline rushing through his veins, the wild smile that comes to his face, the noise, the sights... it's euphoria for him

And when he reaches his peak, endorphins at maximum saturation, that's when he thinks of you

It's almost like he subconsciously asks himself if there's anything in the world that could make him happy like this, and his subconscious responds by conjuring an image of you

As if he couldn't get any happier, thinking of you just pushes him higher

This happens a lot...

He'll be killing someone, already over the moon, then he'll blast to Mars when he thinks of you

And he starts associating you with violence; even if you're the gentlest person in the world

It's the happiness it brings him that links it to you

Though if you're a psycho (affectionate) like him, there might be another reason he associates it with you lol

It just gets worse over time; eventually he can't even see other people committing violent acts without thinking of you

He'll be watching a horror movie, and blood will splatter the screen and he'll be like: Nice. Y/n's nice too. Y/n... <3

Jane the Killer

Quite the opposite of Jeff; it's the quiet moments that get her thinking of you

(my reasoning is confusing but I'll try my best to explain T-T)

And there are two reasons for this

One, because whenever she gets a moment to think to herself, her brain always wants to think of you first

Maybe it's just hunting that hit of dopamine it gets when she imagines your smile, or the way your hands feel in hers...

Or maybe it's just that it's become a habit for her to think of you so often, so it's second-nature that she does so when she gets the chance

But the second reason is that she loves peace, and you are her peace :)

She's a vengeful person with a lot of turmoil inside, so when her environment is peaceful, she tries to follow suit

She's just taking what she can get before she has to go back to hate and obsession

So she imagines the peaceful things in her life

Namely, you

Even if you're not a very peaceful person, she feels at ease when she's with you

So, when it's quiet, she thinks of you to quiet herself

Memories of forehead touches and holding hands are more than enough to fill the silence :)

Clockwork

Literally everything.

I’ve mentioned this in a previous post, but Clockwork will find the most random things that remind her of you

She’s got a very creative mind; she can find the subtlest of things that make her think of you

Oftentimes they’ll be disturbing things…. Like a dead animal or smth

But she gets a little smile when she thinks of you anyway :)

She’ll probably send you a picture of whatever it was that reminded her of you

So you’ll just get a text out of nowhere like:

[picture of a dead wasp] “thought of you <3”

After a while you’ll learn to just not ask

Because you’ll definitely get one of these texts AT LEAST every other day, if not every day

Sometimes they’re actually nice things though! Like a song or a pretty sunset :)

Or something she saw while shopping that made her think of you; she always makes sure to steal …obtain those things

And ofc she gifts them to you 😌

Nina the Killer

I think it depends on your aesthetic

To me, Nina is someone who’s very in tune with aesthetics

Even if yours is super niche, or it doesn’t fit under a specific category like “emo” or “butch” or even “clowncore,” she’s got it DOWN

And so it’s always things that fit your aesthetic that make her think of you

Maybe it’s a view: a dark forest, a bright sunset in your favorite color, a sunny park, an eerily empty sidewalk…

Maybe it’s clothing: pants, shirts, dresses, jackets… always the exact kind of thing you’d wear :)

Maybe it’s music: she listens to music like. All the time. So she’s definitely at least dipped her toes into a genre that’s so totally you

Or maybe it’s something miscellaneous: a pop tart flavor, a blanket, a picture, the color on a soda dispenser…

No matter what it is, you’re guaranteed to love it

She always manages to surprise you with yet another random thing perfectly suited to your aesthetic

And she’s always on the hunt for more >;)

If it’s something she can physically bring to you, you best believe she will though

And if you decide you hate it (you won’t, but maybe later when your aesthetic changes), you guys light a bonfire and burn it together :)

Tim/Masky

It’s a Polaroid picture of you

He’s not in the picture; it’s just you

The flash is on, illuminating you and leaving the background in dark obscurity

He took it himself one night when he was just enamored with the way you looked

He did it casually, just telling you to look at the camera

The rest was all you; maybe you smiled, maybe you threw up a peace sign…

Whatever you did, he felt it captured your essence perfectly

He stared at the photo for a long time after it came out, and he still stares at it frequently

He carries it deep in his wallet where no one can find it

He’ll pull it out when he needs to think of you, usually when he’s especially down

Which is pretty often, my boy is troubled :(

He’ll trace his fingers around the edges, remembering that night

Your voice fills his ears, your scent fills his nose, and suddenly he’s aching to see you in person again

And he will; he’ll probably call or text you soon :)

“Ticci” Toby

Honestly? Probably something super obscure related to some kind of inside joke between you two

I’ll paint an example

Maybe you two were in the kitchen together, and you wanted him to get out the milk for you

But you ended up calling it a “mug of jilk” instead of a “jug of milk”

Toby, of course, bursts into laughter

He teases you for ages afterwards, calling milk “jilk” and always pointing out jugs of milk with a knowing grin

You’re in on it too though

You always snicker whenever he does those things

Maybe that’s why it becomes so special to him; it amuses the both of you

He gets to laugh and hear you laugh :D

So (in this case) he’ll think of you whenever he sees a mug of j (oh gosh oh no you guys got me too) jug of milk

And he probably takes pictures to send you too

You’ll just get a text that says “jilk mugs spotted ‼️” and a picture of the milk aisle at the grocery store

He likes to imagine your laugh when he sends texts like those :)

Thank you so much for reading!! Take care my lovey doves <33

(divider by saradika)

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanons #marble hornets x reader #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #jane the killer #jane the killer x reader #nina the killer #nina the killer x reader #tim wright #tim wright x reader #masky x reader #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #tobias rogers x reader #clockwork #clockwork x reader

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intimidating-fettuccine · 5 months ago

Text

[Texting]

Tim: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?

Toby: >:O Language

Jeff: Yeah watch your fucking language

Natalie: Okay, who taught Jeff the fuck word?!

Y/N: ‘The fuck word’

Brian: Are you that oblivious? You guys say the f word all the time

Jeff: Oh my god he censored it

Y/N: Say fuck, Brian.

Jeff: Do it, Brian. Say fuck.

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tryingtofindava · 1 year ago

Note

creeps with a goth gf

𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐰 𝐚 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡! 𝐆𝐅*ೃ༄

lolz didn’t know what specific creeps u wanted so imma just choose who!! ^_^ ALSO THE READER IS A TRAD GOTH!!

(INCLUDES: Jeff the Killer, Ticci Toby, Jane the Killer, Nina the Killer, Kate the Chaser, Clockwork.)

: ̗̀➛Back to Source

╰┈➤ 𝐉𝐞𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Has at least nearly roundhouse kicked you bcs he thought u were Jane on MULTIPLE OCCASIONS… (he’ll say he’s sorry in the most dull non apologetic way ever and probs doesn’t mean it.)

“My bad, I guess.”

He doesn’t care abt aesthetic that much I believe, as long as he finds you hot lolz.

Though when he’s out killing people and he sees something that catches his eye that he’d class ‘gothy as fuck’ he’d snatch it for you… so that’s sweet ig.

He deadass brought you a dead bat once…

╰┈➤ 𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢 𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐲

HE LOVES U AND UR AESTHETIC SM

Midwest emo x trad goth, what a combo :3

His first words to you ever was that you looked like you crawled out a Tim Burton movie (he was tryna impress u with his film knowledge).

Type of guy to ask to make a shared Spotify playlist and try and learn all of the songs you like and force himself to learn the lyrics for you.

Bro will jump you just to get a hug, and when he finally pulls away you’ll just see the black imprints of your makeup on his white tee.

BEGS YOU TO GO THRIFTING TOGETHER TO FIND COOL THINGS TO WEAR FOR EACHOTHER!!

“T-this would luh-look so cool o-on you!!”

╰┈➤ 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

TWINNING!! :D

She’s a trad goth too lmao.

You two definitely share clothes, no matter what it may be. Corsets, dresses, boots, gloves. Anything in the closet really you two own together :)

ALSO she WILL help you doing your makeup, not because you need the help just because she likes to practice so she doesn’t get rusty. (She mostly wears her mask so she doesn’t rlly do a whole lotta makeup besides lashes and lipstick)

Like Toby will take you thrifting (without the breaking in part).

╰┈➤ 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

She thinks your so so so super duper awesome sauce.

She’s a scene girly, so she LOVES the fact that your twos aesthetics are so different and unique from eachother.

Also likes helping to do your makeup, because she just wants to be able to do trad makeup to impress you.

WILL ASLO TAKE YOU TO THE THRIFT SHOP. (these guys like thrift shops okay)

Would love if you guys swapped wardrobes for a day.

“BABE, PRETTY PLEASE??? JUST FOR TWO MINUTES!! I’LL GIVE ‘EM BACK!!”

And you’ve deffo caught her in your clothes MULTIPLE times :3

╰┈➤ 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫

She doesn’t care all that much what you’re aesthetic is lolz.

She just wants someone in her life to love and to love her back.

But she does compliment your look nervously when the convo gets a lil too quiet.

Though you do catch her staring at you lovingly while doing your makeup .

She may bring you back little things that caught her eye that reminds her of you, that being anything rlly. BUT ESPECIALLY CLOTHING.

╰┈➤ 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤

She will compliment you every chance she gets. Mostly calling you hot and sexy.

SHE’S GOT THE HUMOUR OF A 12 YEAR OLD BOY WHO HASN’T HIT PUBERTY!! (And you love it and hate it at the exact same time.)

Like I mean she makes goth mommy jokes ALL THE TIME… there’s no stopping her. She cackles so hard afterwards after u scold her for it too.

“I love my big tiddy goth girlfriend<3”

“Nat, I swear to fuck-“

Anyways she’s kinda got a thing for goths…

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x female reader #jeff the killer x reader #ticci toby x fem reader #ticci toby x reader #toby rogers x reader #jeffery woods x reader #Jeff woods x reader #jane the killer x reader #Jane Richardson x reader #nina the killer x reader #Nina Hopkins x reader #kate the chaser x you #kate milens x reader #clockwork x reader #natalie ouellette x reader #jane arkensaw x reader

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thediaryofaurora · 10 months ago

Text

𖦹Kinktober Lineup𖦹

CW: NSFW, f!reader

A/N: I’ve never done Kinktober before, but in honor of my account’s first October I thought it would be a nice treat. At the bottom of this post is an end of Kinktober poll, if you’d like to cast your vote please do!

⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙

Week 1

Day 1 - Bondage / knife play - Jeff the Killer

Day 2 - Virginity loss / gentle fucking - Homicidal Liu

Day 3 - Car sex / stranded - Ticci Toby

Day 4 - Sex tape / double penetration - Tim Wright & Brian Thomas

Day 5 - Dry humping / hot boxing - BEN drowned

Day 6 - Breeding / monster fucking - Eyeless Jack

Day 7 - Pillow princess / praise - Bloody Painter

⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙

Week 2

Day 8 - Sneaking out / rebelling - Ticci Toby

Day 9 - Face sitting / scissoring - Clockwork

Day 10 - Sensory deprivation - Jane the Killer

Day 11 - Cockwarming / Public sex - Jeff the Killer

Day 12 - Secret admirer / voyeurism - Hoodie

Day 13 - Pool party / mutual masturbation - Nina the Killer

Day 14 - Corruption / mentor - Masky

⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙

Week 3

Day 15 - Shower sex / handjob - Homicidal Liu

Day 16 - Controlled vibrator / public - BEN drowned

Day 17 - Seven minutes in heaven - Kate the Chaser

Day 18 - Medical play / marking - Eyeless Jack

Day 19 - Hate sex / rough - Jeff the Killer

Day 20 - Stress relief / assistant - X Virus

Day 21 - Party / roof sex - Bloody Painter

⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙

Week 4

Day 22 - Threesome / setup - Ticci Toby & Jeff the Killer

Day 23 - Sleepover / experimenting - Nina the Killer

Day 24 - Overstimulation / toy use - Brian Thomas

Day 25 - Orgasm denial / gentle praise - Jane the Killer

Day 26 - Rebound / 69 - Clockwork

Day 27 - Sneaking in / forbidden love - Kate the Chaser

Day 28 - Tentacles / choking - Slenderman

⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙

Week 5

For the finale (Oct. 29 - Oct. 31) I will be posting a miniseries rather than the usual one shots! The poll below determines what the mini series will be about/ who it will be with. The results will be in after a week!

⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙⦿៙

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tipsynight0 · 4 months ago

Text

Kissing the creeps

Fem pov!

Characters - Jeff, clockwork, Toby.

Tw - slight nsfw? Nothing explicit.

Summary - lipstick and creeps <33

Word count - 2.1k

Author's note- I originally wanted to try writing headcanons since I've never done them before, but then this idea just kind of popped into my head and I couldn’t stop writing! Also, crazy new creepypasta characters unlocked in the Marcy Chronicles of Tumblr. This is my first time writing Clockwork, (and Toby too 😭). I did try, though! I'm not really sure what this is, but I hope you enjoy it! <33

(Y/N) had been meaning to show Clockwork the lip gloss for a while now. It had been sitting in her pocket since she nicked it from the corner store—a sticky-sweet reminder of her impatience. But between Clockwork's constant fixing and tinkering around the mansion, (Y/N) hadn’t found the right moment—until now.

From the porch, (Y/N) watched Clockwork under the car, her legs stretched out, grease smudging the worn denim of her jeans.

The white tank top clung to her back, stained with oil, and the way her hands moved—precise, confident—left (Y/N) a little mesmerized. The creeper squeaked when Clockwork shifted, her toned arms flexing as she twisted a wrench. (Y/N) couldn’t help but smirk, biting her lip before finally deciding to make her move.

(Y/N) approached quietly, the gravel crunching under her boots, and stopped just behind Clockwork's legs. She straddled her, one knee on either side of her hips. At first, Clockwork startled, pushing herself out from under the car with a quick shove, wrench gripped like a weapon.

When she realized it was (Y/N), her tense expression softened, and a crooked smile tugged at her lips.

“Well, look who decided to interrupt,” she grunted, eyes flicking up at (Y/N) through her messy hair. Grease smeared her cheek, and there was a streak along the side of her neck. She didn’t seem to notice, too busy letting her hands slide up (Y/N)'s thighs, the calloused tips of her fingers brushing over (Y/N)'s bare skin and leaving dark smudges behind.

“I’m trying to work, trouble,” she murmured, but her hands tightened on (Y/N)’s belt loops, tugging her closer until (Y/N)'s hips pressed against her stomach.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but grin, feeling a bit bolder than usual. She let her hands trail from Clockwork’s shoulders down her arms, tracing the veins on her forearms, still warm from the effort. Her fingers came away a little greasy, but she didn’t care. She twirled one of Clockwork’s curls around her finger, brushing it off her forehead.

“I found a new lip gloss,” (Y/N) said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“Supposedly, it tastes like cotton candy.”

Clockwork hummed, the sound deep and approving. “That so?” One of her hands abandoned (Y/N)'s belt loop to skim up her side, sliding under the hem of (Y/N)'s shirt. The warmth of her palm on (Y/N)'s skin made her shiver. “Then let me taste.”

(Y/N) leaned down slowly, a little unsure, but when Clockwork’s hands guided her, their lips met. At first, it was just a brush—soft and hesitant. Clockwork tilted her head, and her mouth moved against (Y/N)’s with a bit more confidence. Her tongue traced (Y/N)'s bottom lip before she nipped at it, catching the faint taste of sugar.

(Y/N) couldn’t help the small gasp that slipped out, and Clockwork took advantage, kissing her deeper.

Clockwork’s lips were slightly chapped but warm, tasting like cigarettes and engine oil, mixing with the artificial sweetness of the gloss. Her other hand left (Y/N)'s hip to cup the back of (Y/N)’s neck, holding her there as she kissed her harder, like she was trying to drown herself in the taste.

When (Y/N) finally pulled back, her lips were tingling, their breaths mingling between them. Clockwork swiped her thumb over the corner of (Y/N)’s mouth, smearing some of the gloss across her cheek with a smirk. “Think I need more than that,” she murmured, dragging her thumb down to (Y/N)’s chin.

(Y/N) didn’t have time to respond before Clockwork tugged her down again, lips parting eagerly. This time, Clockwork’s hands roamed, fingertips grazing (Y/N)’s ribs, tracing her spine. (Y/N)’s own hands slid up into Clockwork’s hair, tugging just enough to make her groan into the kiss. (Y/N) could feel the grease on Clockwork’s skin, smearing as she dragged her closer, and the roughness of Clockwork’s hands made her pulse race.

Clockwork’s lips left (Y/N)’s for a moment, kissing the corner of her mouth before moving to her jaw, biting down lightly. “You taste good,” she muttered, and there was a slight awkwardness in her tone, like she was trying too hard to sound cool. It made (Y/N) laugh, and Clockwork huffed, nudging (Y/N)’s thigh with hers.

“Shut up,” Clockwork grumbled, but the way she kissed (Y/N) after was rougher, more determined, as if trying to distract (Y/N) from the flush creeping up her neck. (Y/N) let her, melting against her touch, fingers curling tighter in her hair as Clockwork’s mouth moved over hers with renewed intensity.

Toby was out in the backyard, the rhythmic sound of wood splitting filling the warm, sunlit air. His shirt was long gone, tossed aside earlier as the work became more taxing, leaving his toned chest bare and glistening with sweat. Each powerful swing of the hatchet made his muscles ripple under his flushed skin, his cargo pants hanging low on his hips, just barely clinging as he worked. The sunlight caught on the droplets running down his torso, tracing the curve of his abs and vanishing into the waistband.

He let out a grunt, pausing for a moment to catch his breath, his chest heaving. As he steadied himself, (y/n) approached from behind, unable to resist the sight in front of her. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she pressed her face against the warm, damp skin of his back, inhaling his earthy, slightly smoky scent. Toby didn’t startle—just grunted softly, acknowledging her presence, and drove the hatchet into the stump to free his hands.

He felt (y/n)’s lips against his back—soft, almost testing—before they pressed against his ribs. A shiver rolled through his body despite the heat. Confused, Toby furrowed his brow, cracking his neck as he tried to make sense of the sudden affection. A flicker of red caught his attention. “W-what are you d-doing?” he muttered, his voice rough and unsteady, another tick making him jerk his shoulder.

He glanced down at her lips, noticing the smudged crimson, and his pulse quickened. “A-are you b-bleeding?” he stammered, concern slipping into his tone.

(y/n) pulled back just enough for him to see the lipstick smeared across her mouth. Toby swallowed hard, his throat tightening as his eyes traced the color staining her skin. He licked his bottom lip absentmindedly, his gloved hand moving on its own to touch her mouth. “W-what’s that?” he whispered, voice dropping, his thumb dragging across her lower lip. (y/n) kissed his thumb, a playful gleam in her eyes, and guided his hand to her waist.

“Do you like it?” she asked in a low, sultry voice, leaning closer.

Toby’s breath hitched, his hands instinctively tightening on her hips, gloved fingers pressing into her curves. Her lips brushed his neck, slow and purposeful, tracing the vein that throbbed just beneath his skin. His heart pounded like a war drum, and his fingers twitched against her waist, another tick slipping past his control. “F-fuck,” he whispered, his head falling back as she kissed up the column of his throat.

His hips jerked forward as her lips continued to explore, pressing heated kisses down his chest, over the faint line of hair trailing from his navel to his waistband. He was barely holding on, his body betraying him with shivers and involuntary tics. His hands slid up into her hair, rough and eager, and a guttural noise left his throat. “B-baby... a-anyone could s-see us,” he mumbled, but his words lacked conviction, especially when his hips bucked toward her again, seeking friction.

(y/n) just smiled, trailing her hands down his sides, nails scraping lightly over his damp skin. Toby grunted, his face burning, trying to bite back a moan as her lips followed the path down his stomach. His chest was now covered in smeared lipstick marks—evidence of how thoroughly she was claiming him. Toby couldn’t help the way his hands gripped her hair tighter, his knees almost buckling as she kissed just above his waistband.

A sharp intake of breath escaped him, and he pulled her back, the intensity overwhelming, his eyes dark with frustration and need. “I-I swear, if you keep that up...” he growled, words cut off by a stuttered moan as she nipped at his hip bone. He couldn’t look at her without his pulse racing, couldn’t think straight with how hot his skin felt.

When she finally drew back, he glanced down at the faded lipstick on his chest, disappointment flickering in his gaze. “D-do you have more of that?” he asked, his voice rough with lingering desire.

(y/n) smirked and pulled the lipstick from her bra, holding it up to his flushed face. The way she looked at him—so smug and knowing—had his stomach tightening, his hands itching to drag her back and make her finish what she started.

The summer night wrapped around Jeff like a second skin as he slouched on the back porch, cigarette dangling from his lips. Shadows danced across his features, broken only by the glowing ember that brightened with each deep drag. His body radiated tension.

(Y/n) approached silently, drawn to him like a moth to flame. The wooden boards creaked beneath her feet, matching the thunder of her heartbeat. His foot tapped an impatient rhythm against the steps, the only sign he'd noticed her presence.

"I'm not in the fucking mood, (y/n)." His voice came out rough, sending shivers down her spine.

Instead of backing away, she leaned down, her breath ghosting across his face as she plucked the cigarette from his lips. Their eyes locked as she brought it to her mouth, taking a long, deliberate drag. His gaze dropped to her lips, watching as she exhaled slowly before returning the cigarette. Her fingers found their way into his dark hair, nails scraping gently against his scalp in the way that usually made him melt.

But tonight was different. His jaw clenched as he brought the cigarette back to his mouth, tasting the sweet cherry she'd left behind. "Didn't I fucking tell you not to wear that shit?" The words came out as a growl that made heat pool in her stomach.

She stepped down, positioning herself between his spread legs, using her height to look down at him. The air crackled between them. "What's your fucking problem?" Her voice came out breathy despite her attempt at anger. "You vanish all day and come back like this?"

His hand shot up, fingers gripping her chin and pulling her down until their faces were inches apart. His thumb smeared across her bottom lip, destroying her careful application of gloss. Before she could protest, he pushed his thumb past her lips, the pad rough against her tongue.

"Fucking taste it and tell me if you think I want that on my cigarette." Moonlight caught the dangerous glint in his eyes, making her pulse race. "I said fucking taste it," he demanded, voice dropping to a tone that made her knees weak.

She ran her tongue along his thumb, the artificial cherry mixing with the salt of his skin. His eyes darkened as he watched her, pupils blown wide with something more than anger.

In one fluid motion, he yanked her down onto his knee, the friction making her gasp.

A fresh cigarette appeared between his lips, flicking his zippo open, his hand found her jaw again, fingers pressing into sensitive skin as he tilted her head. When his mouth met hers, it wasn't gentle – it was pure need. Smoke rolled from his lips to hers as he claimed her mouth, his tongue following to chase away the sweetness.

She coughed softly but didn't pull away, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pressed closer, wanting more.

His hand slid to her throat, thumb finding her racing pulse. She could feel his smile against her lips as he pulled back just enough to speak, his voice a rough whisper that made her shiver. "Don't wear that shit again. You're beautiful without it."

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rainrot4me · 10 months ago

Text

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!

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