Artsyclxwn - Gage

My headcanons for Art the Clown

Tw: mention of violence, blood, killing and etc

Note: sorry for long waiting, I had some stuff to do. But I watched this movie last night, just can't not to write something

• Suppose that by some miracle you interested him, and Art changed his mind about killing you.

• Art is a man of the moment, of impulse, in this regard he is like a child. If he wants something, he will get it, no matter how. If he's interested in you, he'll get you and keep you.

• Again, he is quite childish, and since he cannot speak, all his emotions are visible in his body language and antics. His childish behavior can also manifest itself in frequent insults. He will be sitting on the couch with his arms folded and fundamentally avoiding your gaze. Try to guess what he's offended about. And it's better to do it quickly, before the desire to tear some human flesh wakes up in him. His mood changes very often, so be always prepared for the fact that at the moment of rare hugs he will suddenly become agitated or, conversely, aggressive.

• He's very jealous. It's not that he's insecure, he just doesn't like sharing his stuff, including you. You better not pay too much attention to other people unless you want to see their guts smeared on the wall in your bathroom.

• Despite this, Art is quite protective. He won't let anything happen to you. Be prepared that he will be constantly watching you. But now you can safely walk through the dark alleys, Art is always there, you are under the reliable protection of this guard dog.

• Art likes to scare you more than his victims. He doesn't know why, but he really likes the taste of your fear, it really turns him on. But Art will never really hurt you enough, except for a few cuts or bruises. There's something about you that makes him fear losing you for real. There's something special about the way you're scared of him. Maybe it's your expression or your cute screams, he doesn't know. But your guardian definitely makes him feel a lingering warmth in his lower belly.

• His actions and feelings can hardly be called love, because he really does not know how to get attached, he is just not quite the person for this. But he shows a certain affection in his own way. First of all, he's not killing you. Secondly, sometimes he tries to take into account your wishes in many things, tries to find out what you like. Thirdly, he can be quite clingy. When Art realizes that he wants your attention, he can gently pull the sleeve of your hoodie, as if asking for a hug, or he can just roughly grab you by the waist and put you on his lap.

• He really doesn't care about your appearance, he has a weakness for you because it's you.

• Talking about what you like. Art is very narcissistic and cruel. But over time, he will realize that your smile and your joy create some kind of strange feeling in his chest, he likes it. In fact, Art makes you happy only because it gives him a certain pleasure.

• He loves using you as bait for his victims. This gives him an extra push to kill his victim in an even more brutal way.

• In general, he can be kind to a certain extent, he even brings you small gifts from time to time. Besides, he's crazy about the sight of someone else's blood on your face and skin. But you'll definitely have to teach him to wash more often and eat normal food.

omg I just watched terrifier 3 it was so good 😩!

I was wondering if you could do something on the reader being jealous of Vicky? I found that whole dynamic in the movie interesting, wanted to see your take on it 🤭

You Jealous?

Art the clown x reader

summary: you’re jealous of all the attention vicky is getting.

warning: this does have a little bit of T3 spoilers, some cussing, and demons.

when he left you, you died. spiritually tho but to you it still counts. those 5 years have been a hell of a ride for you, since your clown man was no where to be seen. i mean sure, he would still contact you through dreams and what not, but you miss seeing him eye to eye.

after those 5 years of pain, you finally saw him again. even tho he was decapitated, you were still so glad to see him again after all this time. but your mood shifted as soon as you saw his ‘work parter’ vicky. you knew she was another demon, but the way she acted around him made you so fucking mad. you help art with his plans, i mean what can you say? you loved him. but you’d rather it be just you that helped him.

you were glad she gave birth to him so you could see him again, but that’s was all she was good for. your clown man doesn’t deserve a demon like her, or whatever the fuck you wanna call her. you didn’t like her, because she always had his attention. you knew you couldn’t kill her, so why even try.

one day you couldn’t take it anymore, and that day was the time she was dressed like him. as soon as you saw her, your blood boiled as your vision got blurry, not with tears, but with anger and jealousy. why was he letting her get close to him? why her and not you? does he like her now? will he leave you? you had no answers to any of those questions that flooded your head.

as soon as art left the room for a moment, you knew it was your chance.

“what the fuck is you problem, huh? dressing like him, always sitting next to him, taking pictures with him, are you fucking okay??” you couldn’t control yourself, letting your anger run loose.

she turns her head and looks and you, before cracking that ugly smile on her face and laughing.

“aww is someone jealous??” she fakes pouts at you before slapping her knee with laughter. before you could attack her, art came back in the room and grabbed you. you yelled at him to let you go but it was no use. he was dragging you to a different room with him.

“the hell do you want art?!” you couldn’t help but yell at him. you took a second before realizing he heard the whole conversation you just had. you knew he was nosy little thing. he just looks at you before he starts gesturing something with his hands. he points to him and throwds the place vicky is at and shakes his head no. as if he’s saying don’t be jealous, me and her aren’t a thing. you could only look at him with and empty face.

he leans in and gives you a hug, the hug you’ve missed all these years. your head rests on his shoulder breathing in the scent of blood…and piss.

“art you’re taking a shower tonight.”

if you’d like a part 2 let me know!!

Hello, hope you having a good day/night can you do some cuddle headcannons with Art the clown? If you can't I understand hope you have a good day/night

ofc i can do this!

wow, art the clown cuddling, that’s like impossible.

naw i’m just kidding he loves cuddles!! only if he likes you. he has to like you, or well…you know don’t you?

he rubs his nose in your neck a fuck ton. that’s his favorite thing to do when y’all cuddle. he’s like a big teddy bear. a very skinny, thin teddy bear. 😂

he may try to touch you somewhere you don’t want to be touched at the moment. just pop his hand and he’ll stop. it happens a lot, he can’t help it, but he’ll eventually get the memo and quit.

when he comes home from murder his first thing to do is get in bed with you. BUT!! you make him either A: take his dirty ass a shower then get in the bed. B: make him sit on the floor, which forces him to take a shower because he wants cuddles. either way he’s getting in the shower.

he likes to be the little spoon but sometimes he’ll be the big one, he likes to feel like the protector. also yes, he does suck his thumb. what can i say, he’s a big baby.

sometimes you give him back rubs after a long day. he struggles to stay awake as your hands rub along his back. he loves you, he really does. he also trust you enough to sleep around you, with his back turned and everything.

give him forehead kisses when y’all cuddle, please!! he needs them, or else he’ll beg and then the damn air horn comes out.

oh how can i forget, watching movies!! horror movies, at fucking 5 pm on a saturday. he’s so weird, but you’re weird too because you’re the one dating him.

15x19 | bloody!sam 

My turn to make silly little memes

Part 2 / Part 3

I’m simp for them

Babes, art the clown would definitely be the type to tickle tf out of his lover and I need a few headcanons on it 😂

A.T.C. — 'TIL YOU PISS YOURSELF !!

╰┈➤ 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 : art the clown &&. ticklish female reader

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚(𝘀) : MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT , art is a perv and an annoying piece of shit

𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥'𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘 : i love this request so much, oh my god ! he'd definitely do this ! i wouldn't be able to handle that myself, i developed such a fear of being tickled from when i was little thanks to a family member who constantly did it until i was suffocating on my own laughter 😭

• once art discovers that you get into that familiar, giggling fit from each half-gloved digit violently strumming against your skin—you’re doomed. quite literally, as he most definitely isn’t the type to respect boundaries or stop his advances.

• the first time he had done it, it was unintentional. he was merely being affectionate, snuggling you in front of the television, his hand slyly trailing up your side in order to get a good grope at your breast, but once you let out a squeak and involuntary chuckle, swatting his hand away, that evil grin slowly crept and seemed to almost split his face in two, and you knew that look could only equal one, sinful thing. your secret was tarnished. ‘ohh, so you’re ticklish, huh?’ his playful eyes appeared to say.

• ever since, he’d find every moment you'd least expect for it to occur, to tickle you mercilessly. he was a clown after all, and making people laugh was part of his devilish charm. whether you're in the shower, while you’re asleep or to wake you up, when you walk past a supposedly empty room and he pops out of it to flutter his fingertips all over you, you’re definitely in for all kinds of surprises.

• besides squeezing that wretched airhorn into your face whenever he sensed that you weren't emotionally feeling the best, his other go-to method was, of course, tickling you. it always worked, too, silently bragging that he got you to crack a smile whilst grumpy. he loves your smile, though he also thinks that yours is no competition in comparison to his and his self-proclaimed "pearly whites."

Carnival Kiss 🤡🪞🎭🎪🎡🎠🤹‍♀️🎢

(Art the clown x F! Reader)

——————————————————-

The carnival had always fascinated you. The flickering lights cast an eerie glow on the weathered rides, and the distant laughter of children mingled with the sounds of creaking metal. But tonight, the atmosphere felt different—charged, almost electric, as if the air itself was alive with anticipation. You had heard the rumors, whispers of a clown who stalked the carnival grounds, a figure of terror known only as Art.

You moved cautiously through the half-lit paths, drawn in by a mix of dread and morbid curiosity. The thrill of danger pulsed through your veins, but you had never expected to feel this way about a monster. Every shadow seemed to whisper his name, and every flicker of light hinted at his presence, sending a shiver down your spine.

Then you saw him.

Art stood under the dim glow of a flickering bulb, his tall, lanky figure unmistakable. His stark white face was accentuated by the grotesque black makeup that framed his eyes and mouth. He wore his signature striped outfit, a vision of playful horror that made your stomach churn with both fear and fascination. The way he grinned, a sharp-toothed smile that stretched impossibly wide, sent a chill down your spine.

You hesitated, heart racing as he locked his dark gaze onto yours. For a moment, it felt as if time had stopped, the world around you dissolving into a haze. Art tilted his head, his expression shifting from playful to predatory, the grin never faltering. You felt drawn to him, an inexplicable urge tugging at your senses.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, your heart pounding like a drum. “Hey,” you managed, your voice trembling despite your attempt at bravado.

Art’s eyes flickered with intrigue, and he stepped closer, the tension palpable. The air between you thickened, charged with an electricity that sent shivers across your skin. You were well aware of the danger he posed, yet the thrill of the unknown beckoned you closer. There was something deeply alluring about him, a chaotic energy that pulled you in.

Without a word, Art gestured toward the funhouse, the warped mirrors reflecting distorted versions of reality. You felt a mixture of fear and exhilaration at the thought of stepping into the darkness with him. Compelled by a force you couldn’t explain, you nodded and followed him inside.

The funhouse was a labyrinth of shadows and reflections, the dim lights casting an unsettling glow. The air was thick with the scent of stale popcorn and something metallic that made your stomach churn. The laughter of carnival-goers faded into silence as you entered, replaced by the echo of your footsteps and Art’s eerie silence.

He moved through the maze with an almost feline grace, darting from mirror to mirror, watching your reflection with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. You felt the urge to turn and run, but the tension between you kept you rooted in place. You were captivated by him—the way he danced around the distorted glass, the shadows playing tricks on your mind.

“Are you scared?” you whispered, your voice barely breaking the silence.

He turned to you, the grin on his face widening, revealing those sharp, predatory teeth. It was a chilling sight, one that sent a thrill of fear through you, yet you couldn’t look away. The thrill of danger was intoxicating, but deep down, you recognized the peril of your fascination.

Art stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. The warmth of his body contrasted sharply with the chill of the funhouse, and you could feel your breath quicken as he closed the distance. He reached out a gloved hand, brushing his fingers against the cold glass of the mirror beside you, leaving a streak of smudged paint. It felt intimate and terrifying at once.

In an impulsive moment, you reached up to touch his face, your fingertips grazing the cool skin of his cheek. Art froze, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before that familiar grin returned. His dark eyes bore into yours, and in that moment, you felt an electric connection—a primal understanding of fear and desire.

Without fully realizing it, you leaned in, the tension between you reaching a breaking point. Your lips met his in a sudden rush, a kiss that was both reckless and charged with an undercurrent of dread. It was a soft exploration, yet the danger of it sent your heart racing. You were kissing a monster.

Art responded almost instinctively, leaning into the kiss. His lips were cold against yours, a stark reminder of the dark world you were stepping into. You felt a shiver run through you, a mix of exhilaration and terror. The kiss deepened, and for a moment, the world outside faded away. It was just the two of you in that warped funhouse, where reality and madness collided.

But the moment was fleeting. Art pulled away, his expression shifting into something darker, more primal. The grin was still there, but it no longer felt playful. It was a hunger, an insatiable desire that made the air around you crackle with danger. You realized, in that instant, the peril of your actions—of inviting this creature of chaos into your life.

You stumbled back, heart pounding as you took in the sight of him. Art stood before you, a vision of horror and allure, his presence overwhelming. The darkness that surrounded him felt suffocating, and suddenly, you were struck by the realization of how far you had let yourself fall into his world.

In the silence that followed, the reality of the situation began to settle in. You had danced with danger, kissed a monster, and now stood at the edge of an abyss you couldn’t fully comprehend. Art’s gaze remained fixed on you, his expression unreadable. It was a silent promise of the chaos that lay ahead, a world filled with fear, thrill, and an unsettling intimacy that bound you to him.

With a surge of adrenaline, you turned and ran, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the confines of the funhouse. You didn’t dare look back, but you could feel his presence behind you, a haunting shadow that lingered in the darkness. The thrill of the chase ignited something within you, a twisted desire to return to the chaos, to confront the monster that had captivated your soul.

As you burst into the night air, the carnival lights flickered around you, and you knew one thing for certain: you would return. The darkness was calling, and somehow, you felt compelled to answer.

i beg for more peepaw or Thomas spice 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

┊ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭.

┊ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒) ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐭 ( 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 ) 𝐱 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

┊ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓/𝟏𝟖+! 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡, 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞, 𝐬𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭.

┊ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝟑,𝟐𝟖𝟕.

┊ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 @wanderbreadsworld 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚! 𝐈 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞. 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜 𝐧𝐠𝐥. 💀 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐲. 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲’𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲! ❤️

The expanse of empty space next to you was devoid of warmth, marked only by a faint indent of where Thomas slept. Cicadas and crickets sang just outside in the middle of the night, but that wasn’t really why you woke up. With Thomas’s hectic schedule, you hadn’t gotten to see him as much, he wasn’t home as often. You missed him, missed his massive form slumbering next to you, missed his face, missed his presence.

Sometimes you wondered if you thought about him too much, and not all of it was exactly wholesome. Your mind produced debauched fantasies of what you wanted him to do to you, especially after getting intimate several days prior. You shivered, folding one arm beneath your head as you rolled over to face the vast amount of space next to you.

Admittedly, you were practically craving his touch, craving his grasp. Everytime you really dwelled upon his size and his capability of splitting you in half, it got you so hot and bothered, tangled up within some feverish lust that you couldn’t shake. Your stomach was reduced to mush, sloshing with a very pressing anticipation.

You shut your eyes, thighs squeezing together to fight the wave of arousal that washed over you. That empty space next to you was singing to you, coaxing you to go and look for Thomas. You didn’t really want to bother him, but at this point, it was nearly unbearable — you couldn’t help yourself.

Flinging forward from the thin sheets, you tugged your nightgown back into place, skittering off of the bed and to the creaking wooden floorboards. You made sure to pull on your slippers — the house wasn’t exactly in the most stellar of shapes, and you wanted to avoid getting splinters as you crept down the stairs, arms loosely wound across your torso.

It was eerily quiet throughout the Hewitt household, which was something of an abnormality, not that you minded. The closer you got to the hefty basement door, the more you could hear the scuffling of tools and belongings, which promptly ceased when you slipped past the gap, shuffling onto the top of the stairs that descended into a dimly-lit darkness.

Your knees wobbled the whole way down, nearly knocking together as you clutched onto the rickety railing, holding yourself as upright as you could. You hated being so needy like this, afraid that you might suffocate Thomas with your clinginess, but you figured he would make it known if you were hounding him — he hadn’t yet, thankfully.

A hulking shape came into view at the bottom of the stairs, shadow eclipsing any sliver of light that fell across your trembling form. There was a flicker of happiness that danced within his eyes, which were devoid of the usual stoic melancholy. Thomas grunted, his stare falling upon your shivering form, assuming that you were cold.

As soon as you hit the step closest to him, thick arms were tangling themselves around your form, practically squeezing you against his chest, and he was absolutely warm, like his own radiator. Thomas swept you right off of your feet. He held you like a doll, one leg collecting underneath the backs of your thighs as the other settled against your ribcage.

“Oh,” It wasn’t a proper distraction from the heat pooling between your legs, only furthering the sensation as Thomas moved toward the large chair next to his workbench, sitting down with you right in his lap. Those big, calloused hands were smoothing over your goosebumps in an attempt to keep you warm, and that only made you whimper. “Thomas.” You didn’t really want him to stop, but you weren’t shaking because of the cold.

Thomas appeared perceptive, slowing his hand, attention fixated upon you. You made the same noise from when he’d eaten you out, keen enough to start to connect the dots in regards to your current state. With a resonant grunt, he watched you quiver, planting your hand on top of his, which he promptly held, massive fingers enveloping your dainty hand.

“I’m not cold.” You whisper, mouth going dry, tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek. You wondered if he would even pick up on your vulgar implications, and you sat there atop his lap, burning so hot with need that it likely seeped into him.

So that was what you wanted.

In the spirit of transparency, Thomas was feeling the same way lately, wistful about you, yearning so much that it made his heart ache. Your frenzied need for him was mildly amusing, maybe even bewildering to him, but this was what he loved about you — you were very unpredictable, in a good way. Thomas never expected you to want more, but here you were, practically shaking in his lap.

He rocked his leg against you a time or two, silently teasing you about the state of your neediness. Thomas pushed his lips against the side of your face, watching you scramble to try and press your core into the muscles of his thigh, but he locked you into place, watching you let out some hapless mewel. Thomas wasn’t exactly the teasing sort, but he had to this time, just to spur on your incendiary desire.

It would be the first time for both of you, and that was a thought that had Thomas foaming at the mouth. The momentary lightheartedness seemed to die out completely, replaced with a seriousness and something amatory. Thomas wanted to make sure it was good, but even then, he wasn’t sure what was defined as ‘good’ when it came to losing one’s virginity.

“I need you, Thomas.” You nearly moaned, listening to the hitch in his breath, his hooded glower as you guided his hand to the apex of your thighs, heart hammering within your chest. Thomas looked absolutely enthralled, watching where you took his hand, right to your soaked cunt, letting him feel just how much he wound you up, made you unbelievably needy. “Need you so bad.” You whispered.

Thomas’s satisfactory rumble was akin to the growling of a truck engine, sending shivers up your spine as he felt against your cunt, all wet just because of him — just the thought of him made you like this. With furrowed brows, he let you move his hand to exactly where you needed him most, slipping past the thin fabric of your panties, right to your throbbing slit.

His mouth crashed into yours, bruising and devouring you whole with a sloppy, uncouth passion. Thomas was still trying to really figure out the whole kissing thing, but you didn’t mind whatsoever, feeling the bite of leather against your cheeks as you reciprocated his fiery kiss. He kept his hand poised against your cunt through the kiss, ghosting over your clit.

It was dizzying, intoxicating — your head was spinning in circles, drunk on both desire and a festering need for your hulking lover. Thomas was perfect to you, extraordinary even if he didn’t see himself that way. A breathy moan elicited from you as his index finger languidly circled around your clit, sending you spiraling even as you kissed him.

“Please,” Your whine was breathy, high-pitched, and your whimpers were absolutely captivating. Thomas’s jaw tightened, cock twitching and hard within his pants as it began to strain against your thigh, highlighting his own amount of lust. It all seemed to be mutual, really. “Please, Tommy, please.” With a moan, you felt him pick you up right off of his lap, hauling you against the workbench instead.

Some depraved part of you didn’t want something soft and sweet — you wanted him to obliterate you, turn you into a pile of mush, make you scream and sob until your throat ran hoarse.

The plane of his broad, bulky chest was snug against your back, towering over you to the extreme, as if he were filling in the entirety of his height, making himself as large as possible. Those thick, calloused hands grabbed at your hips, fingers molding you as if you were made for him, ragged breath being drawn out from his leathery muzzle.

Hot, possessive kisses would be placed all along your neck and bare shoulders, consuming and tinged with something desperate. It paled in comparison to your pathetic, pitiful state of need, but it was enough to make you rock back into him, listening to his thunderous grunt. His hand slithered between your legs again, shoving past your panties, like a heat-seeking missile as thick fingers rubbed at your cunt.

An inhuman sound burst from the back of your throat, as if you choked upon a moan, but it produced something different. Thomas was so massive, colossal compared to you, and that only furthered arousal from both parties. One hand clapped into the supple flesh of your haunch, tugging your leg apart, letting out another rumble as he stroked at your clit, wet enough to cover his fingers in some thin sheen.

“T—Thom—“ The words coagulated in the back of your throat, hips attempting to grind themselves into his hand. Your cunt clenched around absolutely nothing, vision swimming with a blurry haze as he touched and pleasured your poor clit. You didn’t think it could get any better until you felt his erection straining against the curve of your rump.

His straining, pulsating cock was practically begging to be inside of you, threatening to burst if he didn’t find some semblance of relief soon. Thomas wanted to treat you gently, be the best lover to you for your first time, but his concept might’ve been skewed. Many of the animals he saw were brutal, and it was callous, without feeling.

Thomas loved you dearly — and he needed to show you just how much.

You almost expected him to spin you around, but something explosive erupted within your gut as Thomas bent you over the bench at the hip, leathery hand tracing up the smooth plane of your back, tangled within your nightgown. He was decisively swift about bunching the fabric up, letting it pool around your hips as he yanked at your panties.

Prying the thin bundle of fabric away from your cunt, he burrowed himself against you, aching cock throbbing and grinding into your backside, enough to where you could feel the heat bleed through. Thomas was getting a little too excited, especially with your newfound position. It didn’t exactly seem correct — he almost thought about letting you be on top of him.

However, you weren’t vocalizing any sort of disapproval. You careened back into his groin, pushing your hips against him, moaning and sighing his name, absolutely desperate for him to pound you into oblivion, no matter the amount of force. You knew how big he was, and that any roughness would threaten to split you into two, but you didn’t care.

Thomas’s pupils became blown out, like black saucers as you rocked yourself into his clothed cock. The possessive growl that ripped from his throat made you tremble, and he was beginning to throw all inhibitions to the wind, hastily wrestling with his belt and fly of his trousers. He eased his cock out, slathered with precum and enough to really break you in.

Your knuckles were white as you gripped the edge of the bench, feeling his cock split past your folds, thick and fully erect. You weren’t sure if you’d be walking tomorrow, but at least it would be from this, from the overwhelming amount of pleasure you were about to experience.

Thomas began to push forward, somewhat nervous because it was his first time and yours. Maybe he should’ve been doing something different, but he pressed on anyway, his massive cock beginning to bury its way into your tight slit, feeling your cunt clench around him. He grunted, nearly letting out some husky groan at how good you felt.

“Please,” Another wanton moan left you as you hung your head down, feeling his big hands splay out on either side of your hips, squeezing into pliant flesh. “Please, Tommy.” You panted, wanting him to move and move quickly. His sluggishness was likely experimental, and the more you begged, the more his desire grew.

He was torn between going slow and taking it easy, and going absolutely ballistic — as soon as you pushed your hips backward, cunt taking more of his cock, he snapped. With that ironclad grasp he maintained upon your hips, Thomas began to go full steam ahead, hips rutting forward with an impressive speed. He was like a bull out of the pen, already beginning to fuck you.

It was ecstasy.

It was rough, unyielding, messy and sporadic as Thomas fucked you within an inch of your life, groin clashing against your rump, flesh to flesh as he drove his cock in and out of you. He set a brutal pace almost immediately, listening to your myriad of breathy whimpers and blissful cries, back arching and hands digging into the splintering wood of his workbench.

Thomas sounded like the crackling of thunder, his grunts purely animalistic and feral as he pounded into you, cock battering your cunt with nearly all of the force that he could muster. Being bent over like this might’ve sounded a little callous at first, but you were enamored, nearly sobbing from pleasure and the snugness — you felt so full, stretched around his hefty cock. You didn’t really care about the discomfort as he took your virginity, you were too far gone to notice.

“Thomas!” You couldn’t smother your volume, and if you woke the entire Hewitt household up, so be it. Thomas was rutting into you as if you were some bitch in heat, pounding into you so hard that you were rocking forward, the workbench creaking and groaning in protest. You were absolutely soaked, insides battered by the heft of his cock.

Thomas was getting a little too voracious, and he was afraid that he was going to hurt you. His hips stuttered and he began to slow down, hunching over you as he saw the faint glitter of tears stinging your eyes. He knew that he needed to slow down or stop completely, brows drawn together in a look of concern. You were moaning even still, desperately pushing your hips back into him.

“No, no, don’t …” You huffed, shaking your head back and forth. “Please don’t stop Thomas, please.” You begged and pleaded, your body a trembling mess as he let out a softer grunt. “Keep going, Tommy, please!” Tendrils of precum and intermingled arousal oozed from your cunt, and you kept squirming around, desperate for more.

He let out a ragged, husky rumble, watching you cry and whine, your pleas dissipating into needy whimpers that drove him crazy with lust. Thomas hadn’t had anyone beg for him like this, beg for him to demolish them in the way that he was with you. You were the very first, and you would be the very last. He couldn’t get enough of you.

You couldn’t take him not moving, his cock still swollen and full inside of you, lacking any semblance of friction or ounce of movement. You needed him so bad that it was almost paralyzing. “Please.” You whined, the breath nearly ripped from your lungs when he roughly jutted his hips forward, cock beginning to reassume his previous pace.

Listening to you begging for him to pound your cunt again was horribly enrapturing, and Thomas felt obligated to do so now, flying into that brutal pace, quick and needy, almost as needy as you. He wasn’t dragging anything out, he wasn’t fucking you with slow, deliberate thrusts — everything was fast-paced and hasty, cock obliterating your cunt with all the force of a battering ram.

He couldn’t stop.

Thomas was fucking you senseless, almost to the point where he was using you, a notion that irked him. His grunts and your moans filled the space, consuming the feverish atmosphere as he clashed into your rump with his groin, cock pushing into you as far as it could go. He was quick, only pulling back a mere inch or two before clapping back into you, tugging your hips back against him with a powerful command.

You were actually drooling, feeling a hot salivation pool around the corners of your mouth until it dribbled onto the workbench. Your face was nearly pressed into the wood as you were unable to keep holding yourself up at this rate. Your noises were drowned out by the feral, darker sounds of his growls and grunts, cock pulsating with shockwaves of heat that made you shudder around him.

He could see your legs shaking like the leaves on a tree, but Thomas was keen on chasing after his orgasm, wanting to cum inside you, make you feel every palpitation. You moaned his name as if it were the only word you knew, occasionally rocking back against him, only to be rewarded with another sharp thrust of his hips.

The speed of his desperate rutting didn’t slow down even when you came around his cock, flying into your orgasm as if you’d been thrown into it. You were nearly crying, tears of pleasure stinging your eyes as Thomas continued to rail you, hunching in over you, head hung, eyes all glazed-over with a salacious, lustrous shimmer.

“Thomas.” You panted, chest rising and falling, mouth slack and coated in your own drool. It might’ve been embarrassing in any other situation, but you felt so good that you were literally blinded by pleasure. You were dizzy, feeling his cock bury itself into your needy cunt a few times over before the dam broke.

Shamelessly spilling his seed inside of you, Thomas grunted, bringing you back up against his chest as he pumped you full of cum, that breeding urge always prevalent whenever he came. Any excess happened to slather the insides of your thighs, warm and sticky, and you collapsed back against the workbench, legs feeling like jelly, like they lacked any structure whatsoever.

You had to catch your breath, but you would’ve been lying if you said you didn’t want him to do it all over again, right here and right now. Your eyes were blurry, and you hastily blinked the tears of ecstasy out, using the collar of your nightgown to wipe your mouth clean of drool, skin covered in a thin layer of perspiration.

Thomas let out a softer rumble, but he was terrified that he’d gone too far, that he hurt you. You weren’t hurt in the slightest, but your quivering legs and disheveled state said otherwise to Thomas, who pulled out of you with some lewd pop, collecting you into his burly arms.

The concern was obvious within his eyes, but it steadily ebbed away when you hit him with some nonchalant, dazed smile. He stroked your cheek, letting you lean against as he held you close, pressing a kiss against your forehead. You were certainly wanting more — you were hungry for it.

“I want you to do that again,” You mumbled, fiddling with his tie, giving him the biggest pair of bedroom eyes that you could muster. “You won’t hurt me, Tommy. Promise.” Your voice was much too saccharine to properly ignore, and you could hear the grunt forming in Thomas’s chest.

Thomas wasn’t about to deny you anything, but one thing was for certain — you weren’t going to be able to walk tomorrow. After a moment of contemplation, he set you onto solid ground again, watching you grapple onto the workbench for support.

Before you had time to say anything else, he was bending you over again.