clownyclaushoe - Tumblr blog

clownyclaushoe · 6 months ago

Text

art the clown x reader 🔞 | i taste blood and it's turned into an obsession series

part five | take my heaven, cause you ain't inside it

wow it's been a fucking while since i've posted 😯💨 i wanted to finish and post this like a month and a half ago, but life had other plans ofc 😖 the original idea for this chapter was for art to take someone who has wronged the reader captive and torture (and possibly more? 😵👀) them. however this chapter was becoming so long already and i'd been struggling to finish it 😭 so this part is the setup that leads to that, establishing the relationship reader has with the person that wronged them, with the next chapter fully devoted to the torture, etc. also the person *might* be inspired by a real person at my job 🙈😬😖 chapter title taken from "heaven" by rm.

one | two | three | four

---

you had confided in art about your job, or more specifically the dissatisfaction you felt at your job. after so long at the same place the days had trudged into the type of monotony that was expected with any job over time, but there was added frustration lately with a coworker. despite working with james for a long time, he still treated you like you didn't know what you were doing, as if he had to tell you even the most basic parts of your job. he would've known better if only he'd get his head out of his ass.

art had laughed animatedly when you'd told him as much, slapping his knee and pointing, as though he were imagining the macabre idea of shoving james' decapitated head into his mutilated ass. you wouldn't have expected anything else from your sinister boyfriend.

at the beginning of your friendship with art you had been surprised to find out he was a good listener, far better than most of the other men in your life. the fact that he didn't talk a likely contributing factor, as being more concerned with being heard than listening didn't apply for art - though it very much did for james, he never shut the fuck up, even when someone else was speaking.

you had often bit your tongue to avoid conflict, an aftereffect of unresolved childhood trauma. however, there were times your stubbornness and determination had taken over and you tried in vain to get him to admit for once he was wrong about anything.

you'd moved on to describe the one time james had said that the song "hurt" was originally by johnny cash, and not a cover of nine inch nails as you had pointed out. james kept digging his heels in as did you in a vicious circle, but you knew you were right and wanted the satisfaction of him admitting he was mistaken just once.

art shook his head, laughing outrageously and raising his index to circle in the air at his temple, indicating his thoughts about james. he swatted his hand dismissively and continued to shake his head. you had to agree, you shouldn't waste your time dwelling on this, on him, especially not on your day off, when your time could be put to better use with your boyfriend.

he paused, dragged his finger across his throat, grinning widely with brows raising to emphasize the gesture. the suggestion of art killing james made your heart leap a little, though you couldn't decipher if it was in excitement or dread. as much as you hated and despised him, you hadn't seriously considered that solution, wouldn't have asked art to do that for you. ideally james could go on living his narrow, pathetic little life, just far away from you, out of your life. it wasn't advice you could or should follow - you would either have to find a constructive way to deal with it or find a different job.

art pouted at your half-hearted refusal, and your heart clenched. you hated denying art.

"i'm sorry, baby. would a blowjob make it up to you?"

his grin returned as he raised his hand, index and thumb nearly touching to indicate it would - just a little. you smiled, smacking his arm, and stepping toward your bedroom. "come on, then."

art jogged slowly past you, and you burst out laughing. he glanced back at you, waving his arm enthusiastically for you to follow him. you'd follow him through the depths of hell if it meant you could experience the heaven of sucking and deep throating his monster cock, of feeling that sweet glide of every thick inch of his shaft spreading your pussy. you would gladly get fucked by art while sprawled across satan's horned throne, and art was well aware of this.

the next day at work you'd used thoughts of the previous night's hours with art to distract you from james and his loud mouth. you had decided to ignore him as much as possible and just focus on getting your job done.

though a shiver ran through you at the memory of art pushing inside you, the way his cock stuffed your pussy as he pounded into you. it proved to be more distraction from your work than was wise. it was getting to you, your pussy throbbing and clenching around nothing, your wetness spreading down your inner thighs with your lack of underwear.

you excused yourself to the restroom, hurrying into a stall and hiking up your skirt to rub your hand over your drenched pussy, whining art's name as your fingers circled your clit then pushed down between your lips to easily slip two digits inside. you pull up your shirt, tugging down the bra cups to grab at your tits.

"ohh, art," you moaned, uncaring if someone walked into the room and overheard the unmistakable sound of you fucking yourself. "do you know how desperate i am for you, how wet you make me, do you see how much i need you, fuck."

there was a sudden shift around you, the familiar evil supernatural entity entering the room. the too-bright overhead fluorescents dimmed to a soft half-light reminiscent of candlelight. the air surrounding you became humid, your skin suddenly growing clammy with sweat at your forehead, collecting in the hollow at the base of your throat. your hands stilled their movements, dropping away to your sides as you took in the new surrounds. you wondered fleetingly if someone did walk in, would the room be changed for them too or for only yourself? after so many times experiencing this apparent telepathic link that connected you with art, it still took your breath away. though this time was different - all the previous times you'd simply been able to see art in your mind's eye, knowing he could watch you, wherever he was. but now art's dark presence filled the tiny stall, looming over you and making you gasp and tremble with desperation and anticipation.

art gripped your tits, and you moaned, his touch feeling just as real as if he were truly there with you. he leaned down to latch his mouth on your hardened nipple, nibbling and sucking. your thigh pressed between his legs, rubbing at his swelling cock. he tilted his head back to silently moan, his gaze soft as he looked up at you.

you thought about the possibility that someone else before you had seen art like this, had witnessed how gentle and vulnerable the miles county clown could be. or was it only you that had unlocked that tenderness in him. just as taking art as your sanguine lover had forced you to confront the darkest recesses of your own heart - the parts of yourself you hid from others, and tried to hide from yourself. yet loving this monster had made you more compassionate and warm hearted than you ever were; your heart becoming impassioned like never before, your blood pumping hot and alive, no longer passive and tepid, perhaps no longer altogether human.

art got down onto his knees, hitching your leg over his shoulder to allow him better access to your pussy, tongue darting out to lick up your arousal, drawing a whining moan from you already. his large, strong hands moved to grab your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh. he loudly slurped up your wetness, reveling in the taste of your pleasure.

"oh my... fuck," you gasped, your face contorted with pleasure as your upper body jerked forward. art could please you like no other man ever could, knowing how to unfurl you completely, every nerve ending exposed and vulnerable, left defenseless to the constant assault to your senses.

in what felt like moments you were so close, your body trembling uncontrollably, overwhelmed by art's enthusiastic mouth, every fiber of you begging for sweet release. every thought and worry had left your consciousness, the problem of work and james becoming foreign and inconsequential, minuscule compared to the euphoric high you'd reached, ascending to the cosmos, vast and dark.

art always gives you the best orgasms of your life, climaxes that tear out of you, ripping you apart and putting you back together again, each time changing you, rearranged into something new.

you yelp, taken aback when orgasm gripped you, sudden and fierce, feeling like your leg will give out from under you. art continued eating you out, licking over your hole drenched with your come and his saliva, the mess all over and dripping into a puddle on the tile floor. you bit your lip to keep from screaming his name in ecstasy.

art flicked his tongue over your labia, his gaze becoming hazy, as it always did when he ate your pussy. he blinked slowly, taking almost as much pleasure from the act as you did, loving the feeling of you coming against his mouth, on his tongue.

you repeated his name, revered and sacred like a prayer, your only hope for true salvation. you placed your hands on his face, gently guiding him to stand and pull him down for a kiss. such pleasure as this seemed unfathomable before art. his arms slipped around your waist and you broke away from the kiss, laying your head against his chest and sighed. already obligations and responsibilities had begun to creep back into you consciousness, plaguing and unwelcome. you didn't want to return to work.

the fleeting idea of ditching the rest of your shift came and went. as appealing as it was, you'd never ditched work before, had a reputation for being reliable, responsible, hard-working. the trouble with that was it had become expected of you to always act accordingly, even if there was a day you were feeling out of sorts or you didn't feel like covering yet another shift on your off days. it had been an unspoken expectation yet present all the same, not only from your employers but from yourself, an uneasy guilt settling in the pit of your stomach. you hated disappointing people, even if it was at the expense of your mental or physical well-being.

besides, you were an assistant manager (the same job title james had) - and you still had a delivery order to put in. you'd silently cursed yourself for not doing it earlier, though it wouldn't have made a difference. you still were going to do what was expected of you. the only time you'd ditched was eighth grade p.e. to spend it in the bathrooms because you couldn't get your locker to open in the girl's locker room. you guessed the thought of telling the teacher hadn't occurred to you.

"i have to get back," you frowned, tilting your head back to look at art. he shook his head, expression twisting into a scowl as he huffed dramatically. you patted his chest. "i've been gone too long already. not that it hasn't been fucking worth every second."

the harsh lighting returned, but art didn't fade away immediately. you pushed up onto your toes to kiss him one last time just as he vanished. your eyes opened to find him gone. you were suddenly gripped with how much you missed him already, your heart aching to be near him again.

you'd swiped your fingers over your labia and up to your sensitive clit, gathering the wetness that remained, bringing it up to your mouth to taste and savor the final moments before returning to your own personal hell.

though you couldn't see art, you'd hoped he could see you and your debauchery - that it made him so hard, so fast he got blue balls from forbidding himself jerking off to bask in the exquisite torture and count down the seconds until you were reunited.

you begrudgingly got yourself looking presentable again. you'd left james to handle helping customers and cooking on his own, and imagining him scrabbling around from the front to the back and vice versa was amusing, even if having to hear him bitch about it once you got back wasn't so amusing. for how much of a badass he thought he was, he had a stench of sad mediocrity. as you washed your hands, you'd recalled with a laugh the time a coworker had said "he acts like he's gordon ramsay or something" when the food you served was just a notch above fast food.

you exited the bathroom and on your way back to the kitchen, you could already hear james saying: "what took you so long, lady? are you on the rag or something? thought you'd fallen in."

as you'd expected he wasn't happy about your absence, but you'd ignored him and hurried to the front to help the line of customers, sending back order after order. you could hear james cursing out the customers from the back, far from a first time occurence. though you could understand his frustration, yourself having experience back in the kitchen and getting slammed with a whole line of tickets, you simultaneously felt a sick joy in his suffering and the urge to tell him to shut up because a customer might hear him acting like a fucking child. he was the type of person to tell others to suck it up, yet himself would bitch, whine, and groan if the workload was more than what he'd wanted.

you pitied him as much as you hated him, and once the rush had died down and you got a free moment you'd texted art: 🧑🏼🔪😵

you could imagine art's grin at your message, and moments later he replied: 😯🧑🏼🔪😵🤩😝😉🤡

you'd simply responded with: 😘🥰🥺🤡 somehow more in love with art than you thought possible.

you hadn't thought much more about the consequence of that text the rest of your shift - only that james' moments were numbered and quickly dwindling. and you had to smile.

---

please like, reblog and/or comment, i'd really appreciate it. hope you enjoyed! 🖤

#🔃#i'm not sure if i'm completely happy with this chapter tbh 😖🤔

12 notes · View notes