#creepy clown face paint | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nereidprinc3ss · 28 days ago

Text

haunted

in which spencer reid takes you to a haunted house and you're being very brave about it... sort of.

fluff! warnings/tags: reader wears a skirt, reader is a scaredy cat!!, established relationship, kithing, my favs derek and penelope featured, haunted house stuff, talk about the physical composition of human eyeballs and mentions of harvesting them/eating them but it's not serious, FAKE very fake Halloween gore, I know those tags just escalated so quickly my bad, mention of a spooky clown, just haunted house stuff ok!! but its really not a scary fic I promise!!!! a/n: this is for my bff @gublersg1rl !!!! I hope u all like!!!!! Also yes the title was extremely creative I was feeling divinely inspired and revolutionary let’s not talk abt it

“Okay, no, no—maybe we don’t have to go in. I don’t think it’s gonna be that good.”

As you say it you’re wearily eyeing the crowd of screaming teenagers who are sprinting from the haunted house attraction’s exit, leaving a trail a swirling leaves and candy wrappers in their wake. Spencer laughs, gently hugging you back to him as you subconsciously begin to drift away from the line.

“I knew this would happen.”

“Nothing’s happening.”

“You’re scared. You want to chicken out.”

“I don’t,” you snap, stepping back and adjusting your sweater. “I’m just… I’m cold. I wanna go back to the car.” Spencer does some adjustments of his own, coming close and reaching around you as if going in for a hug but instead tugging your skirt down slightly in the back. You let him finish and then bat his hand away. “Would you stop that?”

“You said you were cold! I’m trying to help you.”

“By making my skirt one inch longer? That’s not going to help.”

He holds his hands up defensively. “Okay. Sorry. I won’t touch.”

Immediately your serrated edge is dulled and you lean against him, barely steering clear of a pout. “No, please. You’re warm. And you’ll protect me.”

He smiles down at you, cheeks and nose nipped sweet pink by the chilly breeze. His hair looks very nice today, his eyes are extra sparkly in the dark, and he’s framed by mostly bare tree branches scattered around the fairground—nothing more than dark palms clawing at the sky, a full white moon cradled in between black branches. The autumnal night is perhaps too cold for the tartan mini skirt you’d chosen, but Spencer told you it looked nice. Of course he doesn’t put up a fight when you slip your arms around his waist under his coat—only wraps his arms around you in return.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to protect you. But between us Derek and Penelope will bear the brunt of the jump scares.”

“Who said my name?”

You look over your shoulder to where Penelope is shivering despite wearing her own and Derek’s coat, and Derek is eyeing the two of you, enjoying a bag of caramel corn like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Don’t worry about it,” Spencer says, and you laugh to yourself, pulling him even closer like you’re trying to leech the warmth from his body. “Okay, you do have to face forward though. I don’t want you to trip.”

“No, Spencer!” You argue, but he’s already unlatching your arms from his middle and turning you in place.

“You’re fine,” he chuckles, holding onto your hips. “I’m right here. Be brave.”

The line has begun to move forward again, and this time, it’s not stopping. Your heart pounds as at the behest of a teenaged bloody scarecrow you follow Derek and Penelope into the dark mouth of the red clapboard facade—a sort of farmhouse design that had seemed charming from afar and deeply sinister up close. Speakers play a loud creaking sound over spooky music and your eyes slowly adjust to reveal a foggy corridor lined with doors and creepy paintings.

As soon as the first evil little girl pops out of a doorway, you scream right along with Penelope.

“Oh, my god,” Spencer laughs under his breath as you stop dead in your tracks, holding the group behind you up. When Penelope and Derek move on, you stay stuck, knowing that the threat has disappeared for the moment but still looms. Spencer gently ushers you forward. “Stay close behind Penelope, and it won’t be as scary. Come on, we have to keep going.”

“I hate this so much.”

But he ignores your comment, guiding you forward down the shadowy hallway and whispering the beginnings of a tangent over your shoulder.

“You know, the first haunted house attraction was in London in 1915 at a fairground just like this. They picked up in America during the Great Depression as an attempt to distract young hooligans from resorting to property damage for fun.”

“Hooligans?” You mutter, teasing him even while terrified, carefully eyes the suspicious staircase leading up to a fenced in landing, shrouded in darkness. “We’re not going up there, are we?”

Just then a man with a sack over his head and bloody axe emerges from the black, launching himself down the stairs. Again, you scream, this time sprinting out of Spencer’s hold and through a cobweb veil into the next room.

“Jesus fuck!” You gasp, clutching your chest as someone made up to be a sweet old grandma gone mad and soaked in blood and viscera turns around to greet you with a manic grin.

“Oh, a pretty girl! Is that you, dear? My long lost granddaughter? Or did I put her in a pie?”

The acting is subpar at best, the script even worse, but what really discomforts you are the bloodied rubber limbs swinging from the ceiling and the fog machine in the corner that keeps burping out thick white clouds with a little hiss. You turn around, running directly into Spencer’s chest. He catches you by the waist and you cling to him, digging your feet in to try and stop either of you from proceeding any closer to your new friend.

“And your lover—so handsome! Mm, what a delicious pairing you two’ll make! Maybe in my specialty cream of eyeball soup?”

She cackles. Spencer pushes you carefully forward as you peer over his lapel, and he actually stops to look into the woman’s pot as she stirs it.

“Spencer—”

“You know—the human eyeball is by all accounts difficult to harvest without essentially popping the outer wall of muscle and connective tissue and then you’re losing the structure of the sphere—and stop me if you know this—but water constitutes about 98 percent of vitreous and aqueous humor which in turn make up eighty percent of the total volume of the eye so to say your soup would be cream of eyeball is—”

“Buddy, you’re holding up the line!” Someone shouts from behind, and Spencer offers an awkward apology to the grandma who was beginning to look more and more uncomfortable, hurrying you along through the kitchen from hell.

“I cannot believe you just did that,” you hiss, still clinging to him. “That poor woman probably thinks you’re a serial killer now.”

“I was trying to humanize her for your benefit—”

Another scream from someone else, another cheap jump scare, cuts him off, and by this point you have your eyes squeezed shut, squeaking at every noise, and Spencer is damn near carrying you through the haunted house, walking you awkwardly backward through the various rooms.

He cradles the back of your head and presses his lips to your ear as a chainsaw revs somewhere nearby and you hear Derek and Penelope yelping just ahead. “You’re being so brave,” Spencer murmurs, though you don’t miss the smile in his voice. "If I was a malevolent spectre I would definitely steer clear of you. I'd be too intimidated."

“Shut up. Ah!”

“Baby, that was a plant. You know the actors can’t touch you, right? You’re not in any danger.”

“I don’t like being scared, Spencer.”

“Then why did you suggest the haunted house? I said we should do the maze.”

“I don’t know! I—” another man popping out of the wall, another roar that you only hear, sequestered safely against your boyfriend’s coat. “Oh my god, are we almost done? I can’t do this anymore.”

“Yeah, the entrance is right ahead. No more actors, okay? I can see the whole room, it’s totally empty.”

“I bet that's what they want you to think, they lull you into a false sense of security and then—”

Cold air kisses the back of your legs as Spencer walks you toward the door, and the stifled soundscape widens again as you exit the house breathing air that doesn’t smell like sawdust and fog machine juice and fake blood.

“Nope. We're really all done, see?”

“You survived! Oh my god, I survived!” Penelope calls, and you lift your head from Spencer’s chest, looking up at him. He’s grinning, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks.

“You honestly handled that better than I thought you would. I actually think I saw the guy dressed as a clown jump when you screamed.”

“If I ever say I wanna do something scary again please don’t listen to me. I hated that so much.”

He examines your face for a moment before determining that despite your rattled nerves, you’ll be okay, and comforts you with a quick peck. “Do you wanna go get caramel apples now?”

“Yes, please. And then can we do the maze, and just like—I don’t know, sit there and… meditate for a little while?”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Just… don’t think about what could be lurking in the corn.”

You give him a little shove. “You know, I only did that haunted house thing because I know how much you love Halloween. I’m being a good girlfriend and what do I get?”

He pulls you close again and kisses your hand.

“You get a caramel apple,” he says, like it’s obvious, and more than that—worth every trouble in the world. “Come on.”

You give him a begrudging smile and allow him to lead you, hand in hand. Maybe it is.

#spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

902 notes · View notes

tofuxtea · 16 days ago

Text

𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐍 | torture + non-con

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — art the clown x fem!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — nsfw, art the clown in general, torture, non-con, slight kidnapping (?), bondage, knife play, blood + blood play, violence, fingering (not sanitary knowing art, wash yall’s hands !!), slight dacryphilia

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 — foreword, i do NOT condone anything in this fic ! david howard thornton himself actually said art would be against this and i find art a comfort character, this is just for kinktober purposes 😞 if you guys are NOT comfortable with non-con or torture please do not read this, spare yourself the pain please i beg 😭 i will not be upset bruh

you were a force to be reckoned with, that much was evident.

whether it was because you were drunk or with a friend group that made peer pressure feel good, it didn’t matter to the black and white clown you approached at the club. he had been standing there for the past hour or so, staring at you through the split in the crowd.

obviously he had a crush on you. that was what your friend whispered in your ear with a little nudge to your side and a drunken giggle.

your devil costume left very little to the imagination, faux red leather hugging your curves. that had to be it, without a doubt. you had already been getting attention throughout the night, so this was only more fuel to the fire that was your ego.

his costume was detailed to say the least. the fake blood on his costume looked rusty as opposed to the cherry coloring on everybody else’s clothes and faces. he must’ve made it himself.

it took a few more pushes of encouragement until you finally went up to him, wondering why he was unable to take his eyes off of you. it wasn’t flagged as creepy in your fogged mind, rather flattered.

“you’ve got a staring problem, don’t ya?” you shouted over the music with a giggle, leaning against the bar counter for support. your high heels definitely didn’t cheap out on the high part.

looking at him up close definitely made your mind wander a little more. he was much taller than you — likely over six foot — and seemed pretty lanky under that suit. his eyes were a brilliant blue, starkly contrasting the black makeup neatly circled around them, and they couldn’t seem to get away from you. his hooked nose, as well as his entire face, was painted white and had a singular black dot on the tip of it.

something about him piqued your interest, and it only grew when he didn’t answer you. instead, he smiled and tilted his head down, like he was feigning some bashfulness. it was cute. you respected the commitment to the act.

“i don’t suppose you want something from me?” those drinks you had earlier were kicking in, making your confidence soar to unnatural heights. “what’s your name?”

you expected him to drop his little facade and lean in and tell you. but he didn’t. he reached for your wrist and shifted your palm upwards. you were beyond curious, but allowed him into your space.

he dragged his finger across your palm a few times, you piecing the motions together. a-r-t. “art. oh, your name’s art?” the clown nodded with a wide grin.

that wasn’t his last trick, it seemed. from the palm of his hand, he revealed a fake red rose. the synthetic petals were slightly crumpled and stained with drops of something even darker than its natural color.

it was a little corny, but you blushed nonetheless. it was sweet. he gestured for you to take it, so you did.

“hey, let’s get outta here. the music’s making my head hurt.” the second part was a lie, but your motives were relatively pure. you thought that he was only silent because of the volume. maybe the fresh air would make him open up a little bit more.

art nodded a little too eagerly and started moving you towards the door. you could only give your friends a very brief glance, them offering you smiles and raised thumbs before you vanished outside. you would soon wish that they’d kept you inside.

you took in a deep breath of fresh air outside, observing the parking lot. there was not a person in sight. they were all inside. except for you and art.

art. you spun around to see where he had gone and found him hunched over a black trash bag. initially, you were going to pull him away from it, thinking he was digging through waste when he suddenly straightened up and turned towards you. his hands were behind his back.

words got caught in your throat and you found yourself laughing to fill the silence. a wave of anxiety washed over you until art revealed another fake rose. this one was attached to a plastic stem.

but while you graciously accepted his second offering, you failed to notice the bat he had brought down onto the side of your head.

—

you never had a concussion in your life, but you were sure this was what it felt like.

you awoke to a blinding headache and nausea bubbling in your stomach. your vision refused to adjust properly, but you couldn’t miss art’s black and white suit in front of you. your depth perception wasn’t the most reliable, but your body knew to start acting.

you went to kick and scream but found it futile. duct tape muffled your cries, though it was ripped off faster than you could register it was there, and thick rope around your limbs kept you still against the table you were draped over. a few blinks helped you understand your predicament: you had been moved to some sort of warehouse and were tied down to a cold, steel table that had goosebumps prickling on your exposed skin.

your clothes were intact, which made you sigh. one victory.

though you weren’t sure for how long. art hovered over you from the side of the table, his sick grin mocking you as he eyed you from head to toe. it felt like he had already undressed you just by the way he was sizing you up.

that came next. with his one hand that was free, he started to drag his finger down the center of your chest. the closer he got to the low-cut hem of your top, the louder your protests became. art was prepared for that.

he brought a thick chain with several rusted scalpels and medical scissors down onto your legs, creating multiple shallow breaks in your skin. you screamed out. he whipped you again. this time you bit back guttural cries and accepted his hand.

his face screamed disgust and disbelief, like he couldn’t believe that you would ever ask him to stop. the way his creased white face morphed was eerie. it rendered you silent while he unzipped your tiny red corset.

you flinched when it popped open, exposing your tits. you hurried to cover yourself but your arms only moved as far as the rope allowed you to. either way, art flung his chain at the arm closest to him and you had to choke back a scream.

blood seeped from countless wounds, warmth running down and onto the table. you squirmed and cried as much as art allowed you to. he seemed to enjoy your agonized writhing, running dirtied fingertips over your open cuts.

“please, please,” you whined. it was mindless rambling at that point because you knew he wouldn’t.

he had shifted his attention down to your pleather skirt, slowly undoing the zipper on the side. you wanted to kick and fight but you dreaded the idea of getting cut into even worse. so you let him peel it off of you, along with your panties.

“oh god, oh god,” you sobbed, clamping your legs together to keep some of your dignity. art must have been keeping a spare blade tucked in his hand because suddenly he sliced deep into the side of your thigh. you couldn’t help the scream that tore from you, which earned you another gash along your ribcage.

you started to think he was bleeding you dry as slowly as he could. but not after he had his fun first. your body shook underneath his gloved hand as it traveled down your stomach and towards your bare pussy.

part of you thought he was going to force your legs apart and jam as many scalpels inside of you as he could manage, so you resisted when he tried to pry them open. but when he did, after lashing you a few more times, he ran his blood soaked fingertips through your folds, making it slick for him.

it was nauseating at first. but after he pushed two fingers into you, the strange sensation of his fingerless gloves sliding inside, that feeling simmered into pleasure. you choked on a whine, your body fighting the urge to roll your hips into his hand.

your skepticism prevailed the second he slid his blade across your stomach. you cried out, and art felt your cunt squeeze around his fingers. the reaction was satisfactory to him and he gave you a few more markings before deciding you’d had enough for now.

the blade clattered onto the table a moment later and his freed hand went to your breast. you couldn’t deny what it did to you. the pain was beginning to make you delirious and you melted into his touch a few times. you pulled against your restraints but it didn’t get you very far.

for a while, he worked into a steady pace that had you crying out with more pleasure than pain. your cuts stung, but those sharp pains added to your rapidly building orgasm, that was only really accumulating with your eyes closed.

art didn’t seem to appreciate that, quickly finding his blade and carving something into your skin. it tore you out of your momentary tranquility and a scream ripped from your throat. as you did, his other hand curled inside of you and a moan fought to follow. pain and pleasure battled inside of you, and it was sick that the pleasure was threatening to win.

your body twisted to get away from the scalpel in your side but it was to no avail. he cut and sliced until he had crudely carved the word “CUNT” into the fleshy part of the side of your waist. blood oozed out of the deep gashes and art ran his gloved hand through it, smearing it all over your skin. crimson covered your breast as he came up to grab it again.

you got the message to look him in the eyes while you came, which came soon after he added a third finger. how he was able to do it with ease made you sick. you shouldn’t have been enjoying yourself in any way. you would probably need stitches and therapy after this.

but now, all you could focus on was his long fingers. the feel of his fabric white fingerless gloves inside of you, probably soaked with your blood and slick. your gashes burned every time your back arched off of the table but somehow, it intensified the growing fire in your stomach. that tensing of your thighs, the weak thrusts of your hips that attempted to match his.

it amazed you how he was still silent, blue beady eyes focused on you and only you. they started to widen when your moans went pitchy, like he was encouraging you to let go. he didn’t look so scary then. his face went closer to yours, and he was shocked that you didn’t immediately flinch back.

he offered you slow nods as his fingers continued their assault on you. your thighs parted in acceptance and defeat, your orgasm finally crashing into you. moans came out mingled with sobs because it was over.

your mind was spinning, and he granted you a moment to compose yourself before getting back to work. breathy pants quickly turned into raspy screams once more as he swiftly carved something else into the bloodied inside of your thigh:

ART WAS HERE

#art the clown #terrifier #terrifier smut #art the clown terrifier #terrifier art #terrifier art the clown #art the clown x reader #art the clown x you #art the clown smut #horror kinktober #horror smut #slashers #slasher smut

434 notes · View notes

ashwhowrites · 18 days ago

Note

Could you do a killer clown fic with Eddie x reader? Like Eddie is all dressed up as a clown and is chasing after reader but it leads to smut if that’s okay

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻 Happy October! 🎃

⚠️ smut, a bit darker than my usual fics, kidnapping, slightly forced sex but reader does enjoy it. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with the content

Red nose and smile

It was Halloween night and Y/N didn't have any plans. She didn't feel like attending the college parties, a night alone with movies was good enough for her.

She walked to the small gas station that was down the street, snuggling into her coat as the October breeze washed over her. She was walking to the front when a body appeared right in front of her.

She jumped back frightened, her heart raced with anxiety as she took in the stranger. She felt a little uneasy as the stranger's face was painted like a clown. But not a birthday party clown, more of a creepy ass clown.

There was dark black paint around his eyes, the tip of his nose painted red, and his lips and cheeks were painted a deep dark red and stretched into a smile that ran up to his cheek bones. The rest of his face was painted white. She could see some features on the man but she had never seen him before. He wore a wig that covered his forehead, bright red long hair all the way to his shoulders.

She stepped over to the side, avoiding more eye contact as she went to walk around him. He moved fast, and opened the door for her. She gave him a terrified small smile and walked into the gas station. She muttered out a small thank you, in hopes the kindness would save her life. He gave her a small bow and little wave.

The door closed behind her and he stayed outside. She quickly moved through the store and grabbed the popcorn. But she could feel eyes on her, watching her every move.

She walked up to the register, sliding over the popcorn. She looked over her shoulder and the strange clown was no longer there. She let out a relieved breath as she checked out.

She decided to go out another exit, hoping she could walk straight home without any issues. She walked out the door, as the door closed the clown was standing behind it. She slowly stepped back, her hand reaching for the door handle. But as she did, the stranger turned his head to the side and his eyes stared her down. He held up his finger and waved it back and forth from left to right.

She gulped as fear began to fill her body again. She looked around and the streets were dead and silent. She tried to plan an escape route in her head but then the clown moved closer and closer. Walking towards her until her back was up against the wall.

She clenched her eyes shut when his hand gripped her chin and forced her head to the side. She trembled as his nose pressed into her hair, inhaling her scent. He groaned into her ear and moved his mouth down to her cheek, she whimpered as she felt his tongue licking up her skin repeatedly.

She stomped her foot down onto his, he cried out in pain and released her. She kneed him in the balls and was fast to run when he dropped to the ground. She didn't look behind her, just kept running towards her house.

She could see her house in the distance, heading for her front yard when she heard footsteps behind her. She opened her mouth to scream but a gloved hand covered her mouth. She tried to fight against him but he was stronger. She screamed against his hand as he picked her up. She trashed as much as she could, hoping he'd lose his grip but it was no use.

He carried her to a small house that was in the middle of nowhere. He dropped her on a creaky old bed, the room was lived in and decorated as a circus. She felt uneasy as she observed everything around her. She was terrified of what he planned to do to her, was he going to kill her?

"What do you want from me? Why did you take me here?" She asked

She watched as he moved around the room. He went into his closet and she could hear him digging around. He didn't answer her, but he came out of the closet with a small bag. She held her breath as he walked closer to her. His hand went under her chin, forcing her head up. Her bottom lip began to tremble as tears filled her eyes. He leaned down and pressed his painted lips against hers. She stayed still as she tried to ignore the feeling but it seemed that made him mad. He began to growl against her mouth, he fisted her hair and yanked it. She cried out as a few tears began to fall.

"Kiss me," it was the first time he spoke. His voice was deep and didn't match the creepiness of his clown look. His lips were back on hers with force. She still fought against kissing him, trying to pull her head away but his grip in her hair tightened. She yelped as she felt the hair pulling from her skull.

She admitted defeat and kissed him back. Slow and timid at first. She could feel his body relaxing as her lips melted into his and his grip in her hair loosened. He continued to kiss her until she was gasping for air.

Her lungs burned as he pulled away. In a twisted way, her lips felt cold and abandoned.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her, she fell back against the mattress with a small bounce.

She kept her eyes on him as he stared down at her. She couldn't help but look him up and down, she could see the outline of his hard cock through his white pants. She felt betrayed by her body when her cunt began to throb. She tried to keep her brain in control, reminding herself this was a stranger.

She looked back up when his hands caught her attention. He began to unzip his clown suit, a white muscle tank top showing underneath as he slowly stripped out of the suit. She tried to remain unfazed as the suit bundled at his feet. Wearing the tank top and a tight pair of boxers.

Was it insane to admit that his body was attractive? She noticed a few tattoos on his arms, his gloves no longer on and she could see dried up blood under his nails. He had a few splatters of it on his tank top, she wasn't sure what the hell was wrong with her but her thighs clenched.

He moved fast as he threw his body down on top of hers and his hands gripped her chin. She could feel his cock pressing against her inner thigh. She couldn't help but moan as his fingers slipped inside her pants and underwear to touch her clit.

She shivered as he laughed against her skin, his mouth kissing her neck. Her skin was becoming stained from his red paint.

"So scared, so frightened, and yet you are soaked," he whispered in her ear. She wanted to fight against him but he began to spread her wetness up and down between her folds.

"Are you going to kill me?" She whimpered

His fingers slipped inside of her with ease, and she moaned out.

"Never, baby. I just want to play with you," he whispered into her ear

She whimpered and he softly kissed her lips. She kissed him back, and she was rewarded when he slid two more fingers inside her. She gasped and he laughed against her mouth.

He moved his free hand up to her mouth, roughly shoving his fingers down her throat. She gagged as she tasted metallic and dirt. He fucked her throat and cunt with the same roughness. Her cunt gushed around his fingers and her spit made a mess down her chin.

He removed his hand from her throat to allow her to breathe. She gasped and choked for air, fighting through moans as he circled her clit. She wasn't sure why, but a part of her was enjoying it. She never had someone manhandle her the way he was. He touched her with confidence like he knew her body more than she did.

She felt his hard cock against her leg, and he began to move his hips back and forth. He groaned as he began to rub himself against her, hissing at the pleasure.

She felt slightly disgusted with herself as her stomach tightened. He was sucking an orgasm right out of her and she had no control. But it was the best orgasm of her life. She arched her back as his mouth mixed in with his fingers. His tongue sucked her clit as she lost all control, moaning out as she came all over his fingers.

He sucked his fingers clean, and she watched through heavy eyelids. He stood up and shredded his tank top down the middle, she hated how attracted she was feeling toward him. He was skinny, but a little toned. She eyed his clean chest and the happy trail that led to his boxers. He slipped out of his boxers, and his red aching cock sprung up against his stomach.

She moaned out as she took in his thickness and length. She could feel her cult pulsing and aching for it.

He was back on her in seconds, spreading open her legs as he held his cock against her cunt. He teased his tip between her folds, watching how it began to glisten from her wetness.

"You want me to fuck you, pretty girl?" He chuckled

She was surprised to hear herself say yes

He didn't think twice and slammed himself inside of her. She cried out as she took him fully. He was ruthless, fucking her as fast as he could into the mattress.

"Let me hear those sounds, let me hear how much you love being fucked by my cock," he groaned in her ear. His hands held her hips in a bruising grip, moving to his knees to drill himself deeper inside of her.

Y/N answered with moans and whines. She couldn't think straight. She reached up and yanked off the wig, letting his real hair show. It was dark, curly, and long. She shoved her hands in his hair, bunching it up in her hands as he fucked her.

"Fuck, feels so good," she moaned

He growled in response, leaning down to shive his tongue in her mouth. His hands moved up to her chest, roughly massaging the skin.

"Your pussy feels incredible, baby girl," he moaned in her ear his hands moving down her body. He yanked himself out of her, and she lost her grip on his hair. She whined at the emptiness, but he flipped her over and moved her hips in the air. He slammed his hand down on her ass and shoved himself back inside her. She clawed at the sheets below her as he continued fucking her.

He licked up her spine, then kissed back down. He dug his nails down her back, continuously doing it until the skin broke up and blood began to run down. She hissed at the pain but the pleasure of his cock took the focus.

He smeared her blood all over her back, smiling as he leaned down to clean it up with his tongue. She shivered as she felt his tongue all over her skin, her legs felt like jelly as he continued to pound into her.

He moved his hand to her stomach then moved down to her clit. He began to play with her clit as he slammed himself inside of her. She cried out as he hit a spot that made her see stars.

She reached forward and clawed at the headboard. His sweaty chest met her back as he put his free hand over hers on the headboard. The position felt even better as he chased his orgasm. He rubbed her clit as fast as he could, he could feel her thighs starting to shake.

"I'm going to stuff your cunt full of my cum. Make this cunt my own," he said into her hair. She screamed as she felt her second orgasm taking over. Eddie hissed as he felt himself needing to cum. He kept his hand on her clit to work her through her orgasm but moved his free hand to push down on her head. Her screams were muffled against the mattress as he held her down.

He moaned loudly as he released his cum inside of her. He hissed as he emptied himself, keeping his cock inside of her to make sure she got every drop. He removed his hands from her, letting her body drop against the mattress as he caught his breath.

He flipped her body over, smiling down at her tear-stained face. He patted her cheek, telling her how amazing she did. She smiled at the praise but whined when he moved his fingers down to her cunt. She hissed as he pushed her folds together, he smiled as his cum began to drip out of her.

He cupped his other hand below, catching his cum as he squeezed as much as he could out. Once he got enough that satisfied him, he shoved his hand into her mouth. She tasted a mix of his blood and cum, sucking his fingers until he pulled them out. He replaced his fingers with his mouth.

Before she knew it, everything went black.

When she woke up she was in her room, in her bed as the moon shined through the window. She reached over to turn on her lamp but hissed as she felt pain in her back. She figured the whole clown thing was a dream, and wasn't sure what it meant.

There was nothing out of the ordinary in her room, she slid out of bed and walked to her mirror. She went to turn to look at her back when she noticed white and red paint smeared all over her face. She looked at her body in the mirror and gasped when she saw the same paint smeared all over her inner thighs.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

#eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #ashwhowrites #eddie munson smut #eddie munson smut x female reader #eddie munson smut x reader

224 notes · View notes

calmcoldevening · 19 days ago

Note

Would you please write some first time sex HC with Art the Clown and a virgin female reader? How would he initiate or how would he be seeing as he’s her first?

Sure, sugar! Hope you'll like it 🍬

First time sex with Art the clown headcanons

Tw: adult content, smut, mention of blood, but mostly I tried to make it soft and comfy. No minors, sugar

• Most of the time, he has rather strange and somewhat childish ways of showing love. Although the fact that he didn't kill you already says a lot.

• Usually he just looks at you and smiles his trademark creepy smile, although in fact there are a lot of unspoken emotions hidden behind those crazy burning eyes. For you, his heart burns endlessly in a constant stream of childish joy and desire to protect.

• Art likes to come up to you while you're sitting, for example, on the couch in the living room and watching a movie, and put his head on your lap. His fingers dig firmly but gently into the flesh of your soft thighs, causing you to blush deeply and bite your lower lip. But there is nothing vulgar about it. Art just wants your gentle human warmth. Most of the time, his hands and bodies are cold, so he's crazy about the heat of your skin. Especially when you're embarrassed.

• He will be flattered by the fact that he is your first in many ways, indeed. He likes this feeling of possessiveness and an almost animal right to possess. Despite its somewhat childishness and intensity, Art doesn't put any pressure on you. He very often listens to your opinion and takes care of you in his own way.

• Art can be serious if he really wants to, and in the depths of his sadistic heart, he understands this perfectly well.

• It's not that this demon has any desire other than the feeling of itching on his skin from the desire to kill and shed blood. But over time, Art notices that he is increasingly watching couples in love. Very often, he kills teenagers or young people fucking at the wrong time in the wrong place. But he doesn't admire it in any way. He is interested in watching this. And in the place of this red-haired girl, Art involuntarily introduces you.

• Would you make the same sounds? They would probably be even more beautiful with you. What kind of face would you have at that moment? Would you moan his name or vice versa, try to hold back every gentle sound and meow?

• He was interested in getting to know this side of the human body.

• That's why, right after returning home after another murder, Art found you in the kitchen. A man came up close to you from behind and wrapped his arms around your waist with a firm grip. His lips, painted with black lipstick, instantly found your neck, kissing and gently biting the skin. You blushed instantly, feeling your heartbeat quicken.

• "Art.. What are you doing?" Of course you knew what he was doing. No wonder you often thought about this kind of dirty stuff when your boyfriend was at work. But it's one thing to dream, and another to do it. You weren't ready at all.

• Art continued to kiss your flesh, hinting at what he wants. He wanted you to show him this, to let him feel this strange feeling of two bodies together. For some reason, he was carried away by the idea that you know what to do. Or at least your body knows.

• What was his surprise when you not only did not respond to his caresses, but also quietly whimpered because of a sudden feeling of fear and insecurity.

• Art immediately stepped back and gently but insistently turned you around to face him, pressing your lower back against the kitchen set. You felt how unpleasantly the T-shirt stuck to your body from the blood that soaked it. Art will gently take your face in his hands, caressing your cheeks and wiping tears from your skin. His silent way of dumping what happened to you.

• "..scared." The only word that comes out of your mouth. After standing in silence for a while, Art finally connects all the dots and his face is decorated with a devilish grin. He leans closer, wanting to take you in another passionate embrace, but you gently push him away from you. "Please.. take the blood away."

• Art frowns and visibly sulks, but obeys, retiring to the bathroom. It gives you some time to catch your breath and mentally prepare. You're nervously biting your lip in anticipation.

• Although you desperately wanted to let your boyfriend see this side of you and show him your love, the unknown scared you. And you didn't want to disappoint him in any way. These thoughts gnawed at you in the most unpleasant way.

• When Art cleaned and dried his suit, he found you in the bedroom. His knowledge was also limited, but unlike you, because of his inhuman nature, he just wasn't afraid of something so simple. He literally killed people. And yet, the sight of you, so vulnerable and scared, made the 'heart' shrink uncomfortably, which he really didn't like.

• He came over to your bed and sat on the edge of it, looking up at you. His gloved hand took yours and pulled you into his lap. His fingers gently dug into your hips, tasting the pleasant sensation, and a satisfied grin appeared on his face. Perhaps he was trying to cheer you up somehow. You leaned forward and gently covered his lips with yours. Both of you have significantly improved your kissing skills since the last time, so his tongue alone was already making you dizzy. The kiss was slow and soft, Art's fingers gently stroking your thighs.

• After a couple of minutes, you leaned back, looking down at your boyfriend and catching your heated breath. You carefully took one of his hands with your own and put his palm on your chest, nervously biting your lip and nodding as if giving permission. Art blinked a little, but later smiled contentedly, squeezing the soft flesh under his fingers. He saw how scared and awkward you were, so he wanted to do it surprisingly carefully and slowly, although his own knowledge was limited to spying on fucking teenagers.

• Art pulled off your T-shirt, throwing it on the floor, and reverently gently ran his cold hands along your sides.

• Dark eyes burning with a primal hunger. With a swift motion, he lifts your skirt, exposing your bare thighs to his leering gaze. Art's long, pale fingers dig into your soft flesh, squeezing and kneading as if to claim you very essence.He hooks a thumb under your lacy underwear, yanking it aside to reveal the virgin petals, glistening with nervous moisture. Art's lips part in a silent, mocking grin, relishing your vulnerability. One gloved hand trails lower, fingers splaying across your slick heat as he rubs slow, deliberate circles.

• His painted mouth gently presses against your neck, leaving noticeable bite marks and black paint on your skin. He was clearly filled with a desire to mark you as his own. Art's desire grows, although the grin never leaves his face for a moment. The tension in your pants is almost painful. He carefully removes the glove from his left hand and gently runs his fingers along the curve of your heated thigh. Finally, he finds the coveted moist warmth by dipping one finger into it with a wet squish. You nervously bite your lip, trying to hold back the tears that have appeared in your eyes. Art kisses your neck and chin, caresses your sweat-soaked skin with his tongue and lips. The stretch around his fingers is so slight that Art wonders mentally how his dick would fit inside you. Without thinking twice, he dips another finger, and then another and another. Although your walls are still damn wet and hot, almost hungry.

• Art's fingers slow their rough exploration as he senses your increasing unease. He gentles his touch, caressing your thighs with tender strokes, as if trying to soothe any lingering nerves. He continues his deliberate advances, guiding one of your legs to wrap around his waist as he positions himself at your hot entrance. With a calculated slowness, Art begins to push inside, relishing each tiny resistance and the subsequent surrender of your innocence. He pauses often, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion, all while maintaining a hypnotic, unblinking stare. Once he's fully sheathed within you, Art's expression remains stoic, belying the depraved satisfaction he derives from your virgin heat and whimpers. He begins to move, setting a rhythm that's both brutal and methodical, his pale face a mask of concentration as he claims your body with a single-minded focus.

• His movements are slow, almost gentle. He gently squeezes your sides, allowing you to lean against him, and showers kisses on your face and hair.

• Gradually, his movements accelerate, his brain melts from the thrill of such a hot moment. But his mind is still focused on you. The way you sound, the way you feel, the way you feel good. He feels you pulsating and shrinking around him, and tries to rub as hard as possible against that strange point inside you from which, as he realized, you see the stars. Despite his inhuman nature, he was surprisingly absolutely focused on wanting to please you. He wanted you to feel good only with him. To make you feel good.

• When you cum around his cock with a short moan, Art gently presses you to him, splashing streams of hot semen into you and just catching his breath. His lips are kissing your neck, and his hand is stroking your wet hair. His way of saying 'good girl.'

#slashers x reader #slashers x you #slashers fandom #slashers #slasher x reader #art the clown x you #art the clown x reader #art the clown #art the clown x y/n

233 notes · View notes

thepumpkin-queenn · 2 months ago

Text

Halloween This or That 🎃

1. Scary pumpkin or Cute pumpkin

2. Creepy dolls or Creepy clown

3. Skeletons or Zombies

4. Trick or Treat

5. Broom or Wand

6. Ghosts are real or Ghosts are fake

7. Halloween party or Scary movie

8. Face mask or Face paint

9. Scary pumpkin carve or cute pumpkin carve

10. Scary costume or Funny costume

11. Hannibal Lector or Norman Bates

12. Warlock or Werewolf

13. Abducted by aliens or Turned into a zombie

14. Black cat or Orange cat

15. Michael or Jigsaw

16. Mummy or Grim Reaper

17. Chocolate or Gummies

18. Take two or Take the whole bowl

19. Monster cookies or Eyeball punch

20. Give out candy or Turn off your lights

21. Gory films or Thrillers

22. Heros or Villains

23. Orange or Black

24. Bat or Owl

25. Halloween parade or Halloween photoshoot

26. Dracula or Frankenstein

27. Candy or Popcorn ball

28. Hocus Pocus or The Nightmare Before Christmas

29. Corn maze at night or During the day

30. Freddy or Jason

31. Last one alive or First one to die

32. Cute decorations or Scary decorations

33. Morticia Addams or Elvira

34. Halloween handmade crafts or Store bought crafts

35. Big pumpkin or Small pumpkin

36. Warm Halloween night or Chilly Halloween night

37. Trick-or-treat or Hand out candy

38. Sleep in a cemetery or Sleep in an abandoned house

39. Scary stories or Ouiji board

40. Pumpkin seeds or Pumpkin pie

41. Go all out on your costume or Go basic

42. Paint your pumpkin or Carve your pumpkin

43. Witches or Demons

44. Ghost or Mummy

45. Reese's or Hershey's

46. Fog machine or Spooky sounds

47. Friday the 13th or 'It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown

48. Homemade costume or Store-bought costume

49. Haunted hayride or Haunted house

50. Werewolf or Vampire

51. Skeptical or Superstitious

52. Fake blood or Fake spiders

53. Always hiding or Frequently jumpy

54. Sees ghosts or Good at screaming

55. Goodbye October or Stay spooky

56. Good witch or Bad witch

57. Beetlejuice or The Addams Family

58. Trunk or Treat or Fall Festival

59. Good or Evil

60. Chucky or Annabelle

Doing this as an ask. So ask away 👻

#halloween #october #october 31 #halloween ask #halloween asks #Halloween this or that

200 notes · View notes

kiss-theggoat · 1 year ago

Text

Art Was Here

Art the Clown x Reader

Word Count: 3.6K

Summary: You and your two best friends, Tara and Dawn, are creeped out by a weird clown at the pizzeria. What you don’t realize is that you’ve been followed, and the clown has other plans for you.

Warnings: 18+,Smut, Porn with Plot, Violence, Murder, Reader has female anatomy but no pronouns mentioned

“I think we should get our food to go.”

Tara’s slow and unsteady words pulled your eyes up from Instagram to her scrunched face. She looked worried, but wasn’t looking at you or Dawn. You followed her gaze across the Pizzeria to the monochromatic clown that sat at the booth across from you. His hands were crossed politely, starkly contradicting the scowl he wore on his painted face.

“Is that the guy from earlier?” You asked softly, touching Tara’s arm to subtly get her attention.

She nodded, looking at you like a kicked puppy. She was scared, and you had to admit, this guy didn’t exactly make you feel comfortable, especially when you realize he followed you and your friends here.

Dawn turned her head, blonde hair hitting Tara in the face and sticking to her purple lipstick. “Him?” She pointed a thumb at him, rolling her eyes at you both before standing.

“Excuse me?” Dawn stood in front of the clown, arms crossed and phone in hand. “Uh…excuse me? Can I get a picture with you?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “Dawn, come on.”

Dawn twisted to you, “Shut up,” she scoffed. “Hello?” She lifted a manicured hand to the clown's face and snapped at him. You felt your soul leave your body, especially when he did absolutely nothing to react to Dawn’s antics, instead he stared directly at you, eyes holding yours, face still locked in an ugly glower.

“Okay, I’ll take that as a yes.” Dawn moved closer to him, and you watched in horror as she took a seat in his lap. Even as she forced him to pose for her perverted photoshoot, he did not take his eyes off yours.

After Dawn was satisfied with herself, she stood. “Thanks,” she smiled at him and made her way back to the table.

You and Tara stared in shock at Dawn, completely appalled with what she had just done.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Tara hissed, turning back to check on the clown.

Dawn rolled her eyes. “What, did you think he was going to hack me up into little pieces or something?”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, drunkenly trying to cope with being scared of and now a little sorry for the clown. He might be creepy, but it was wrong of Dawn to do that.

You all got your pizza, and despite keeping a close eye on him, you barely noticed as he snuck off to the bathroom. Minutes later, he was being yelled at and kicked out by the owner, who had just comforted you and your friends. The clown was ushered out of the Pizzeria, and had to hurriedly grab his garbage bag full of who-knows-what. The door was slammed in his face, and as he began to walk away, he locked eyes with you again, lifting his hand to wave at you. Your stomach twisted, but at least he was gone.

You and your friends, now full of pizza and a little less drunk, made your way back to the car. Dawn still stumbled a bit, but pointed her phone screen towards your face.

“Look, we have 18 likes already.” It was the photo of her kissing the creepy clown on the cheek. The picture alone gave you the heebeegeebees. Whoever that dude was, he was creepy.

“Dawn, that was really rude. He was probably uncomfortable.”

“If he was uncomfortable, he could’ve…what happened to the tires?”

You stared in horror as you discovered the holes in all four of Dawn’s tires. A sinking feeling in your stomach weighed you down when you turned to talk to Tara, who was already on the phone with her sister.

You leaned against the car, arms wrapping around yourself in an attempt to stave off the cold October chill. At this moment, you regret dressing the way you did, legs and arms almost completely exposed.

“Okay, Victoria is going to come get us…”

You sighed in relief. Now all you had to do was wait. All three of you leaned against the car in silence, arms wrapped around yourselves.

Tara turned to you and Dawn. “I really have to pee.”

“So go.” Dawn responded nonchalantly.

“Go? I’m not gonna pop a squat in the street like you do.”

Dawn turned to her, hands dropping to her sides. “Well tough shit because it’s gonna be a while until your sister gets here.”

“Fuck…” Tara grumbled, looking around. “Maybe that guy has a bathroom I can use.” She pointed to what looked like a janitor unlocking an abandoned building.

You shivered, watching as Tara walked towards the building. “I…I think I’ll stay here with Dawn…” you said quietly. The idea of going into an abandoned building with a man was not something that appealed to you. And, you figured, if something did happen to Tara, it’s better to have you safe out here to help.

She nodded and began to talk to the man, but she was too far away for you to hear now.

“C’mon, I’m freezing my tits off.” Dawn growled, opening the driver's side door. You walked around to the passengers side, sitting down in the seat. The inside of the car wasn’t too much warmer, but as Dawn turned the key, the heater started up. You sighed in relief and hunched over yourself. You were still on edge, craning your neck to look outside every once in a while. When three separate checks of the sidewalk outside resulted in absolutely nothing, you finally felt comfortable enough to put your head down against your arms and close your eyes.

You heard Dawn flip through radio stations, before stopping on one.

“This is a WNEW breaking news alert. We have a major development in Miles County this evening, where authorities are investigating a double homicide. Two employees at the Deer Hill's Pizzeria were found brutally murdered just moments ago. No suspects are in custody yet but police are on the lookout for a tall, thin man wearing a black and white clown costume and carrying a large garbage bag.”

You sat up quickly, eyes wide and heart pounding. You and Dawn made eye contact for a moment.

“No way…” she said softly.

You reached down to turn up the radio.

“An Eyewitness spotted the suspect after hearing multiple screams. No further details at this moment. Stay tuned, and we'll continue to bring you more breaking updates as they become available.”

The back door opened, but you could barely think, let alone speak.

“Tara, you won’t believe what we just heard on the radio…” you saw from your peripheral, Dawn turning towards Tara in the back, and then suddenly, she was hunched over the steering wheel, blood staining her blonde hair.

You whipped your body around to meet the eyes of the clown you had seen in the Pizzeria. A scream tore its way out of your throat and your entire body shook as you yanked on the door handle. The door was locked, it wouldn’t budge.

You felt hands wrap around your neck, making your hands abandon the door handle. You clawed at the clown's hands as he yanked you out of your seat. Choked cries escaped you but you used all of your power to kick as hard as you could against the dash, forcing your body against the clown’s chest. You heard a small “oof” sound as he exhaled air, and his grip loosened ever so slightly. You struggled against him to reach for the handle, but instead, he grabbed your arms and held them in against your chest.

Your throat was raw from screaming, you were out of breath, and with the heater blasting, sweat dripped down your brow. He had you restrained, and you finally sat still against his chest, the only sound you could hear was your fast breath and heart beating in your ears. You close your eyes tight, expecting him to stab you, break your neck, do anything to kill you. But… it never came.

Instead, he sat still, hand firm against your throat but not squeezing. You felt his long hooked nose against the crook of your neck and heard him inhale deeply. Your chest heaved with the heavy breaths you took and the feeling of him being so close to you made you nervous. You looked down to finally see how you were sitting in his lap.

Your short costume was hiked up around your upper thighs, which were spread from the struggle, one foot pushed against the center console and one firmly planted on the ground. His legs were beneath yours, long and pushing against the seats in front of you. The silky material of his jumpsuit felt nice against your skin and you began to feel a different kind of tension with the clown.

It was hard to keep reminding yourself that he had just killed two people, and attacked one of your best friends, who lay unconscious just a foot away from you. His hands let up on your throat and you relaxed a little bit, until you felt them again at your waist. His touch was rough and unpracticed, grabbing at your thin clothing and yanking at you feverishly.

You could feel your face turning red, the car was so hot and sweat glistened on your skin. You turned to look at him, his eyes were glazed and glued to your chest, mouth open slightly but still formed into a tiny but focused frown.

You had to decide now if you wanted to try to escape or stay and let him do what he wanted. Attempting to escape seemed like it could be dangerous, given the fact that he decided to spare you once already, but you might not be so lucky again. Instead you decided that appeasing the clown was the best way to survive, at least that’s what you told yourself in order to be less weirded out by your attraction towards him.

You decided to turn, which was difficult because of the cramped space you were working with. Your neck craned to avoid the ceiling and your hair fell in front of your eyes. You settled again on his lap and immediately felt his hands on you again, this time on the sides of your thighs. His fingers moved up and traced the edge of your skirt. Your breath hitched and you could feel the butterflies in your stomach as his touch.

The feeling of butterflies rose to your chest as you finally met his gaze, painted eyes staring into yours intensely. The way his eyes seemed so lifeless yet so expressive disturbed you, but you also felt like you couldn’t look away, eyes locked with his as you wrapped your arms slowly around his neck. The eyes you were watching watched your arms move as if he were nervous about you being able to wrap around him. Maybe he felt like you holding him would give you the upper hand somehow, even though he seemed inhumanly strong despite his scrawny frame.

Hands splayed out between his shoulder blades steadied you as you decided to lean into him further, bodies completely pressed together. It was now that you noticed the amount of blood he was soaked in, drops soaking into the white fabric of his clothes and beginning to dry and flake off his cheek. His hands moved further up, now completely under your skirt and toying with the edge of your lace underwear. You hadn’t gotten any action at the Halloween party like you’d hoped, so you guessed you’re glad someone got to see them?

He suddenly looked extremely displeased, and you thought you’d done something wrong. You backed up a little, but followed his eye line to your chest. His hands came up, and you just now noticed that they were covered in blood, and yanked your dress down, your bra joining it. You yelped in surprise at the suddenness of your exposure, tits now on full display for the bloodied clown.

This seemed to fix this issue and he now wore a huge smile flashing stained teeth. You leaned forward again, feeling the soft silk against your chest. You decided to be a little more brave, you leaned down and your lips connected with the side of his neck. He tensed up for a second, but you ran your tongue over the soft skin there before biting down gently with your front teeth. You forgot to account for the fact that he has paint on, which you could definitely taste, but it didn’t bug you enough to stop. His head fell back onto the headrest behind him but his hands never stopped moving. One trailed up your inner thigh and the other palmed your breast, fingers pinching at your already hard nipple.

You closed your eyes tight, focused on the sensation of what was happening as you felt his fingers move closer and closer to where you wanted them. They were bloody and grimy but at this moment you couldn’t care less. Your head was tucked in the crook of his neck and the smell of iron and musk filled your nose, as if he had been covered in the same blood and sweat for days, which you wouldn’t doubt.

His fingers wrapped around the side of your panties and he yanked them, ripping them off like they were made of tissue paper. Your hands wandered down his chest while you finally backed up enough to stare at him. Looking at him like this made you feel ashamed of how much you were enjoying his touch, the moments of you convincing yourself that having sex with the clown was only for survival were over. Despite the shameful feeling, you also didn’t want to stop, you figured that he wouldn’t tell anyone…right? And it’s not like Dawn was going to remember… You felt the zipper situated at the center of his back and slowly started to pull it down until the sides of his suit slid off of his shoulders.

His chest and stomach were exactly as you had expected, muscular but lean, extremely thin and trim. You shifted in order to get his suit down his thighs, and after you settled back in his lap, you felt his cock against your inner thigh, hidden by the tule of your skirt.

The material of your costume scratched your soft thighs as you lifted it with one hand, the other moving down to rub circles on your clit. You sighed, finally feeling some sort of the pleasure you so badly wanted. Your eyes slipped close as the feeling engulfed you completely, only brought out of your trance when you felt his length rub against your entrance. He stared intently at your exposed pussy in a way that assured you he doesn’t do this often.

With a trembling hand you reached down to guide him inside you. You moved slowly, thighs beginning to shake from easing yourself down onto him. With a whimper you sat fully onto him, your ass resting flush on his thighs, which he gripped hard enough to bruise. Blood stained your skin wherever he touched, and you stopped for a moment to wonder whose it was.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a jerky thrust from him. Clearly he wasn’t happy about the fact you hadn’t moved yet. Your walls stretched around him as you lifted yourself halfway off of him, and with a stinging pain you sat back down. All it took was a couple more thrusts for the stinging to turn into unexplainable pleasure. You couldn’t tell if it was the drinks or the danger, or maybe it’d just been far too long since you’d gotten laid, but he felt better than anyone had before.

You held into his shoulders as you feverishly began to move, bouncing against him while also moving your hips in a circular motion. His hands held the small of your back, helping you up and down with a tight grip. At first, his hips were glued to the car seat, letting you do all the work, but as you kept going, he started to meet you halfway, thrusting upwards into you and causing you to bump your head against the ceiling. You stared into his eyes with your own half-lidded ones, fingernails cutting into his bare shoulders. The urge to kiss him was strong, even though you were sure he hadn’t brushed his teeth in a while, so you trailed a hand from his shoulder, up his neck, and finally to his cheek, where you ran a thumb over his bottom lip.

He, as usual, didn’t react to this action, leaving you to guess whether or not he’d be okay with a kiss. You kept one hand on his cheek, the other reaching back and holding the one that was currently squeezing your thigh, and with a surge of confidence, you leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss. He didn’t shove you off or hit you over the head like you’d expected, but he didn’t exactly kiss you back. You tasted iron on his tongue and began to feel a heat pool in the bottom of your stomach. Surges of electricity ran through you with every thrust, you whined and whimpered at the feeling, and you knew you were close. The clown’s mouth formed an ‘O’ shape, and suddenly you wished that he’d make a noise. His face contorted into a look of pleasure, lips pulled back and eyebrows furrowed.

One hard thrust made you cum, it felt like lightning went through your entire body. You spasmed against him, thighs tightening against his legs, loud moans coming from your wide open mouth. He stayed still deep inside you, and as you slowly came down from your high you realized he came inside you. You were on birth control, but it hadn’t even occurred to you before that maybe a man covered in someone else’s blood wasn’t the most sanitary to be having unprotected sex with. You sat, panting and sweating on his lap, head leaning against his shoulder. You were a little worried now that he was done with you. That he’d had his fun and wanted to kill you.

You raised your head, he still looked dazed, but stared directly at you. His hands moved towards the inside of your thighs, pushing you off of him. This made your legs twitch but you quickly pushed your skirt back over yourself. He put his arms back through his suit, pointing both thumbs to his back with a goofy smile. He wanted you to zip his zipper. You moved towards him and reached back, arm over his head to grab the zipper at the center of his back. You slowly began to pull his back up and had it almost all the way there when a searing pain went from your rib cage to your chest. You let out a scream, hand flying to the place it hurt most, directly under your armpit of the arm you had raised. You felt wetness, and metal protruding from you. With panic you looked down at your torso and saw what looked like a scalpel stuck in your side. Blood soaked your costume and made its way down to the car seat, making the overwhelming heat of the car so much worse.

You grabbed the handle of the scalpel with your other hand and tried to yank it out, but tears cascaded down your face as you realized it hurt too bad to do it. You turned your head to the clown, who held out a finger and smiled at you. He grabbed the handle of the scalpel and began to count with his fingers, mocking you. 1…2…3. And when he held up three, he yanked the scalpel from you. The scream you let out was inhuman, shredding your vocal cords and hopefully alerting Tara.

You put your arms up in terror to defend yourself, but that didn’t stop him. He shoved your legs down, exposing your stomach completely, and with one swipe, he sliced you open. You felt the intense pain of the blade, then the warmth from the blood, and then you began to feel cold and tired. The coldness scared you, considering you felt like you were melting just seconds before. You were scared to look down and when you finally did, you saw your skin split inches apart, muscle and tissue exposed. You felt like throwing up, you felt numb and nauseous and sleepy and shaky. You stared up at the clown, who wore a terrible grin, as he began to lean forward, dipping his fingers into your gaping wound.

His hands were covered in fresh blood now, shiny and bright. He turned around, writing with your blood on the foggy car window. You watched as he wrote, letter by letter, taking breaks to get more blood from you,‘Art was here’, covering the whole window.

You could barely keep your eyes open when he decided he was done with his fun. He opened the car door, walking out merrily and after he got a breath of the cool October air, he leaned down, one hand on the roof of the car, and he waved at you before he slammed the car door shut, forcing you to look at the words he wrote in your blood.

You closed your eyes. You could hear him open the driver's side door, and heard a groan from Dawn as the car shook, but you couldn’t muster the energy to open your eyes long enough to see where he was taking her. You blinked once, then twice, body shaking again when the car door slammed shut. Your breath was shallow and your eyelids were heavy. You read those words over and over ‘Art was here…’ until you couldn’t anymore.

#slasher x reader #slashers #art the clown x you #art the clown x reader #art the clown fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

hornyroyale · 28 days ago

Text

pillow talk

Art the Clown x Reader

(SMUT)

5.7k words

Also posted on AO3

———————

Halloween.

One year ago, there was a massacre in Miles County. The now dead suspect was a tall, scrawny clown. The outfit contained half black, half white jumpsuit, with fluffy black pom poms. A white, painted face, with black details on his face. Bald white head with a little black top hat finished his look. When the police arrived at the scene, the clown shot himself through the mouth, admitting him as deceased.

Maybe.

Who knows.

Little kids flooded the streets with their parents, going door to door, filling their baskets with sweet, teeth rotting treats. One of the funniest holidays in the world. For kids, it’s the free candy and dressing up as their favorite things. For teens, it’s the amount of alcohol they consume at parties. For adults, it’s nothing, because they already hit their mid life crisis and can’t be happy anymore.

Doorbell rings, and a bowl of candy is swiftly picked up by the insider and she opens the door to meet with a group of kids. A smile reaches her face, adoring the cute excitement they have at the sight of the king sized bars in a plastic bowl, and she could tell that her house might get populated quick if the word gets around.

The kids leave and she waves to them goodbye, smiling as the door shuts, and soon the bowl is placed on a nearby table. Heading to the kitchen, she opens up the freezer to pull out a bag of frozen tator tots. Her airfryer opens up as she dumps a serving of the mini potatoes. The airfryer shuts and she turns it on, waiting for her snack to heat up. Her house rings with the doorbell once again, and she picks up the bowl of candy to meet with a little girl with her mom in the cutest tinkerbell costume.

With a cute giggle, she holds up a plastic pumpkin that had goodies in it. A king sized kitkat meets with the others and the face of the little girl lights up. The insider smiles at the young girl, saying her goodbyes so that she can go back to cooking her snack. Shortly after she shut the door, another ring echoed and she opened the door with the bowl again just to be met with a man.

Not sure if it’s a man, but it sure is a clown.

His outfit consisted of a jumpsuit that had a half black, half white scheme going on, as long with black puffy buttons and a white collar. He had stained, fingerless gloves wrapped around his hands. His face was painted white, his whole head was white. With his white face, he had black paint around his eyes, mouth, a dot on his nose, and expressive eyebrows, all completed with a cute little black top hat. A creepy grin was met on his face as he held out a black trash bag, implying he wanted candy.

The insider is frightened by his “costume” but she will admit, it’s really creative and well done. Best one she’s seen all day, even though the ones before were all kids, and this is an adult.

“Well hi there!”, she greets with a smile, even though she’s secretly terrified of this terrifier. “Your costume is very well done!”. She did figure that if he worked hard on it, it would mean a lot if she would compliment it.

The clown still has a grin on face while holding his big bag out in hopes to get candy. Even though he might be too old. The insider picks up her bowl of candy and the clown eyes sparkle. She grins at his reaction and chuckles, but he still doesn’t peep a word.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”.

A nod comes out of the clown.

There’s silence between the two and she can tell he’s getting impatient.

“You know, clown guy. Keep a secret for me?”.

The clown nods eagerly, and soon his bag opens wider when she grabs a handful of the candy bars and drops them in his bag.

“Don’t tell anyone I gave you a bunch of king sized bars, I don’t want anyone getting jealous”, she teased. “It’ll be our little secret”.

A wink appeared on her face, and the clown shut his bag that contained his candy, also returning the wink. The bag flew over his shoulder like he was Santa carrying a sack, and his hand gave a friendly wave to her as he bounced away. She shut the door, also waving goodbye. The noise from her airfryer went off, telling her that her tater tots are done.

“Dude are you on your way?”.

“I’m hurrying as fast as I can Sienna. My fucking shirt has a stain on it so I have to improvise”.

Her phone was mounted up against her desk’s mirror and she scavenged through her closet for a shirt that was close to her original design. All she had on was a black lace bra, green miniskirt, fishnets, and black boots that went up her shins. Her hair was down in curls with green hair spray shining through. She was supposed to be a seductive, sexy joker, but with her shirt dirty, her outfit isn’t complete.

“I might not be able to show up for a while. I’m gonna quickly wash my shirt and see if the stain will come out. If not, I’ll just be a boring Joker I guess”.

“Well I wish you could hurry. Allie hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts at all or Brooke’s as well. Has she messaged you?”.

“Not that I know of. Her phone’s probably dead anyways”.

She picks up her phone from her desk.

“I’ll let you know when I’m on my way. Love you lots!”.

“Love you too Y/N”.

She hung up, then grabbed her stained shirt and headed over to her laundry room. Luckily her parents are out of town, because there’s no way they would let her leave the house in a slutty costume, but Halloween is the one time a year a girl can dress like a total slut. Regina George would be proud of her.

Her washer was opened wide, and she tossed her shirt, as well as some other white clothes that were in the dirty clothes basket just so she could be a little helpful around the house. The washer was then shut, and bleach was poured in where the detergent goes. Apparently if bleach gets on your skin, it could make it soggy and slimey because of the pH level. Hopefully nobody has to go through that. I bet it would hurt.

Just thinking about that made her shiver, and she was extra careful when pouring the bleach, but it ran out before she could even fill to the brim. She shook the jug over it to get extra drops before she just gave up and did with what she had. She closed the detergent drawer, then started the washing machine, the empty bottle was placed on the shelf above, and she made a mental note to go shopping to buy more so that her parents don’t get upset.

She picks up her phone and shoots a text to Sienna.

Y/N: how’s the party?

Sienna: I’m fucked up right now

Sienna: My mom is pissed at my brother too because he brought a dead animal to school apparently and he’s blaming it on the clown that massacred a ton of people last year

Y/N: didn’t you see that clown the other day lol?

Sienna: It was probably some loser dressed up as him, but apparently that worker was found dead after I left

Y/N: crazyyy. maybe it was him

Sienna: I’m starting to think it was

Y/N: a clown came to my door early. adult man, in a black and white clown costume, bald. isn’t that your guy you saw too?

There was no response from Sienna.

Bubbles would pop up.

But no response.

Y/N: Sienna?

Still nothing

Her phone might’ve died as well.

The doorbell rung, but with her being shirtless, she quickly grabbed a hoodie that was hanging up on a hook and put it on so that way she wouldn’t expose herself to a potential little kid. Grabbing the bowl of candy, she opened the door expecting a group of kids waiting for candy.

It’s the clown again.

Something’s different with his costume.

There’s blood all over.

She’s frightened because of the conversation she just had, but she needs to keep her cool that way she won’t be his next target, even though she’s saying silent prayers in her head so that she stays alive. She puts a smile on her face and greets him once again.

“Hello there! I see you added some color to your costume!”. She giggles awkwardly. The clown nods with a big grin on his face. There’s no telling if it’s fake blood, and with the slight scent of iron, there’s no way that it is.

That’s real blood.

“Look at the both of us, we’re both dressed up as clowns, except yours is way better than mine!”. Trying to keep the conversation as positive as she can, she hopes that he’ll go to someone else instead. The silence starts between them, and she knows that’s not good, but she can’t think of what to say. The clown takes a small step towards her and she blurts out something without even thinking.

“Do you want to come inside for a bit? I’m waiting for something to get out of the washer”.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Why did she say that?

Without thinking twice, the clown welcomes himself in like he owns the place, and sits down comedic like on a chair in the living room. Not much she can do now, she just dug her own grave. But, in most horror movies that she watches, a lot of victims die from being rude to the killer, so maybe he’s like them.

She sits across from him, managing distance, but not too obvious.

Should she offer a drink, a snack, ask him why he came back?

Thumbs twiddle on her lap so that she can think of something, but this clown makes himself feel at home. She wishes she could get a word out of him, but he doesn’t make a noise at all. Not a single peep.

“Do you want a beverage? Or any snacks? You are my guest, I hope I can make you feel welcomed”. He nods his head aggressively but again, with him being silent, it’s hard to understand him.

“Can I get you something to write on so that I can know what you want?”.

The clown just stands up and walks over to her, and now her life is at risk, she at least thinks, but he holds his hand out, implying that he wants her to stand up. Hesitating, she grabs it and he pulls her up, then walks her to her kitchen. She stands there as the stranger goes through her cabinets, looking for goodies.

“Can I get a name at least?”.

He stops, and fear runs through her body again. A knife shines on her counter and he picks it up.

This is it.

She’s gone now.

Her parents will come back from vacation and see their dead daughter dead in the kitchen.

Eyes are slammed shut, but nothing happens. Instead, various fruits and vegetables are cut up to look like letters. A banana peel is cut in half to create an upside down “V”, and the banana goes through the center to make it an “A”. A carrot in a straight line, and chopped up cucumbers to connect to the carrot to make a “R”, and finally, two pieces of celery together in the shape of a “T”.

Art.

“Art?”.

‘Art’ nods his head up and down with a fat smile, happy that she discovered who she was.

Art the clown.

The same name of the clown in the Miles County massacre.

This was the clown.

Standing in her house.

He could kill her any second.

Silence fills the room again, for a long period of time, and she can tell that he’s starting to get impatient, but she doesn’t know what to think.

“I’m Y/N. Nice to get to know you Art”. She extends her hand for a handshake and he takes it, not breaking eye contact with her.

Oh why her.

Why is it that she has to be the one in danger?

Finally he lets go of her hand and he has a bigger smile on his face.

This might just be her fate.

Her washer goes off, cutting the silence and she turns her head towards the laundry room. Excusing herself, she walks inside and opens the washer, pulling out her wet shirt. The stain did disappear, but no use anyways. It’s not like she could go to the party now. She’ll be dead. She turns around and almost jumps at the sight of Art leaning against her door frame, huge smile, and raising his eyebrows up and down.

Well, he is a clown, gotta stick to the part. Coming toward her again, he grabs her wet shirt and shakes it like crazy to get some water out, then hands it back to her, pointing at her hoodie.

“You want me to put on my shirt? I need to put it in the dryer first”. Still with his arms crossed, he doesn’t move. This freaks her out more.

Well she is a slutty joker. Might as well have a wet shirt to add more to the character.

“Okay, I will. Look away though”. She teased. His hands covered his eyes in a clown-like manner and he would open his fingers to reveal his eye, but Y/N would roll hers with a smile and shoo him away. Turning around this time, she was able to slip her hoodie off and put on her shirt. The water stuck to her body, and it was cold. Her bra was showing through the material and she clenched from the feeling. Wet clothes are really uncomfortable. She pats the clown on the shoulder and he takes his hands off his face and makes an “O” shape with his mouth.

Subtle claps are made and he jumps up and down.

“Does it fit with the slut aesthetic?”.

Rapid nods come from him, and he comes closer to her quickly and holds her face like he was a grandmother with her grandchild. Guess he likes seeing another clown. Her hands go on top of his and she smiles up at him, removing his off her face.

“Glad that you like it. I am supposed to be at a party tonight and I really hate to cut this short, but I’m sure if I don’t show up, my friends will be really disappointed in me. I promise that we’ll get to talk more later”.

He didn’t like that.

Smile slowly fades and this is when she knew she fucked up.

His head was shaking and he grabbed her hand so that she couldn't leave. Looking pissed, he yanked her hard closer to him, and he had a sinister glare to his face.

“Okay, fine. I won’t go. I’ll spend the night with you. I’m sorry. Can I atleast tell her that something came up?”.

The grip on her hand was released harshly, and she grabbed her phone that was sitting on the dryer. Sienna still never responded to her from earlier, but whatever, she already figured out who he was anyways.

Y/N: something came up, i can’t make it tonight i’m sorry

She set her phone back down, and began to take her wet shirt off, but Art stopped her.

“C’mon can I atleast change into comfier clothes. The tightness doesn’t feel good”.

A finger met with her face, and he booped her nose, then he ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. Her eyes widened as he came closer to her and she stepped back towards the wall, and he came closer.

And closer.

She shut her eyes tight preparing for the pain, but instead the knife slipped under her shirt, and it got torn off, along with a part of her bra, making it fall, and she quickly covered her chest so that he couldn’t see anything.

“I could’ve taken it off nicely, but all up to you I guess”.

His shoulders shrug, and he goes for her pants next but she stops him.

“I’ll just change out of them. Much easier. I’ll be right back”.

Heading to her room, she kicks off her boots and finds a pair of sweats and a shirt she can wear to cover herself up. Shorts were quickly removed, along with her fishnets. She tosses them into her hamper by her door, just to be met with, again, Art. This time making her jump and finding anything to cover her body up with. He opens his mouth to indicate a silent laugh.

He walks towards her again, ripping the blanket away to reveal herself to him, and like the clown he is, he grabbed one and squeezed it like it was a horn. Then again, and again, and again, until Art pushed her back on the bed and ripped her underwear right off.

Like an actual rip.

Now she’s butt ass naked in front of a total stranger, and not just any stranger, but a fucking murderer.

Whatever it takes her to survive.

Art admires the exposed body, and with his half gloved hand, he traces from her collarbone, down to her pelvis with his finger. The light sensation makes her jump, and he stops the movement. Little breaths made her chest go up and down, and in between her thighs, wetness started pouring out of her pussy. A hand went up to his mouth, and his glove reached his mouth. His teeth gripped onto the cloth and he slowly removed it off of his hand, then spat it out onto the floor. The same thing happened with the other, and soon his hands were completely bare. Fingers crawled north of her body, up to her mouth, when she was met with his index and ring finger. They poked at her mouth, in which she opened slightly, and he put them in her mouth. Her tongue traced his fingers which tasted like metal, probably from the blood. Not very hygienic, but she didn’t even care. Saliva coated his fingers, and he took them out of her mouth, and went down to her soaking pussy.

He would lower them closer, then pull back, look up and smile, and repeat his actions, completely torturing her with a stupid smile on his face. She would feel his wet fingers tap her pussy so slightly, but not any friction to please her.

Whines started to pour out of her mouth.

Art the clown likes that.

A lot.

He likes hearing victims cry and make noises while he’s torturing them.

Makes him want to do more.

His slender fingers finally connect with her core, coating her wetness all over herself. He plays with her some more, walking his fingers around her hole, but prevents himself from actually entering.

This irritates her.

“Damn it! Stop with the teasing you fucking clown!”.

He stops, and pulls his hand away from her.

Bad mistake, Y/N.

He pulled a small scalpel out from his sleeve and presented it like he was a magician, and held it to her neck. Sweat beads started streaming from her forehead, and Art wagged his finger. Her face is still needy, and the scalpel to her neck turned her on even more. Hips buck up into the air, her dripping pussy throbbing, begging for touch.

“…please”.

Art the clown likes that.

How he loves torturing her.

A hand went back down to her core, and a single finger applied pressure to her clit. Her body jumps slightly at the feeling, biting her bottom lip. Art finally slips two fingers inside of her, the tight warmth makes his cock harden. The clown suit is baggy, so it hides his bulge, so poor Y/N won’t see his massive “head”.

Fingers dance inside of her, curling, feeling, pumping. With his free hand, that’s where his scalpel is, and he traces the cold metal along her bare body.

The blade goes around her nipples.

It goes around her belly button.

It goes back up near her neck.

Until.

He makes a small cut on the side of her neck, cold blood trickling down her neck, onto her bed. She clenches her jaw, and her gash throbs in pain. Art lowers his head into the crook of her neck, his fingers still moving inside her. A wet feeling against her neck. It’s his tongue. He catches the blood that’s falling, then he presumes to suck on her slash. He was a cannibal. He likes to taste people, and taste what’s inside. For some of his unlucky victims, he’d eat them alive, and no meat gets fresher than that. Other times, he’d wait until he already killed them, then rip them open and eat their insides.

Not the only part that he likes eating.

Her gash stops bleeding, and not a trace of blood is found on her neck, only a little on her bed. His iron efficiency is going to be really crazy.

Soon, he pulls his fingers out of her, and wipes it on his pant leg, just for him to lower himself to meet with her inner thighs.

Getting eaten out by a man in a clown costume was not on her bucket list for tonight.

Getting eaten out by a serial killer, who came over covered in someone else’s blood, and who might kill her next, was not even in her thought process for her future.

Here we are.

Kisses are planted on her thighs, his hands rubbing up and down her leg as he gets closer to her cunt. Small specks of black paint are left from where he kissed her.

He’s hungry.

Scooping her body up, and pulling her closer to his face, his tongue darts onto her pussy, gathering her wetness up, then smearing it all over. His hands rest on her outer thighs, and under her ass, squeezing the fat in his hands. For a psychopathic clown, he sure knows how to eat pussy.

Usually when she gets eaten out, she’ll grab at the person’s hair, but unfortunately, Art is bald. Such a shame, she can’t grab his “hair”, then yanking him up so she can see his mouth covered in hers and his wetness. Her hands instead just grab at her sheets, and occasionally rubbing the top of his head, and when she did, he’d grip her harder, his nails digging into her flesh. The pain does make her shriek, but the overwhelming pleasure overrides it.

He pulls her cunt closer to his face, his nose poking at her region, eating her pussy like he hasn’t eaten anything in years. Her thighs squish around his head more when her nerves start building up. A man’s dream really, getting his skull crushed by a woman.

His face is removed from her pussy, and his face paint is smeared all over the place. White paint on her upper-inner thighs, while black paint is smeared around her pussy, where his mouth was just at. On his face, the paint dripped down to his chin, unevening out his makeup. A hand grazes her thigh,and he turns his back to her, reaching his arm behind to a zipper that’s on his back.

He wants her to unzip him.

Legs shaking from the amazing tongue work that just went on, she kneels behind him, and reaches up to his zipper, guiding it down. A thin, light muscular body comes out of the suit, and he’s not wearing anything underneath.

Not even underwear.

He turns around, and does jazz hands with a stained grin. He did surprise her.

With a big cock.

A light giggle comes from her lips, and she looks down and makes eye contact with his second head. It’s about above average in length and girth, circumsized, and a throbbing pink tip with leaking precum. He moves it around a little by shaking his hips, and also just moving it on his own.

(I literally found out dudes can move their dicks on their own without touching it a few days ago)

His mouth mimics a silent laugh, and he stands proud on the side of her bed, flexing his cock. Since he is standing in front of her, she crawls on her hands and knees to the edge, then sits down. Face to face with his dick.

Her gaze fixates on his rod, then she looks up at him with big, innocent eyes. The clown looks down at her, no longer smiling.

He wants her bad

He needs her bad.

She can see this.

A light kiss on his tip makes his body shiver, and her mouth performs small licks around his tip, testing the waters. His hand falls on her head, pushing her closer to his cock. Better act soon before he kills her for teasing him.

Just the thought of that gets her even more wet.

Death is scary.

But imagining him fucking her, and as soon as they orgasm together, he kills her with his cum inside, which seeps out on her bed. He’d leave a note with her blood on the walls, and her parents come home to see their daughter’s corpse, exposed on her bed with her killer's seed dripping out of her, and the killer’s name all over her room.

She wraps her lips around his head of his dick, and twirls her tongue around. Art bites his bottom lip, and pushes her head down again, craving more of her wet mouth. Her hands rest on his lower abdomen, giving herself a base to control her bobs.

Her throat feels fucking amazing.

It’s hard for him to control himself, even though he’s craving to pound her throat so hard that she chokes on his massive cock, and dies, just for him to fuck her dead body. But an alive body is way better than a dead one.

One hand moves to his cock, pumping him as she slides her mouth all over him, then she moves down to sucking on his balls.

She maintains to look up at him.

His face is totally different from his usual smile, and it’s not a frowny face. His eyes are half open, and mouth gasping for air. His grip in her hair tightens, his hips moving slowly, craving more friction.

Her mouth pulls off.

“You want to throat fuck me? Don’t you?”.

A small nod comes from the clown.

“You’re the one in control here. Do it. Fuck my throat til i can’t breathe anymore”.

Another nod comes from him, and he makes sure that he’s positioned right for her. Hands grab at both sides of her head, and he thrusts in and out of her mouth, hitting the back of her throat. He wishes it was her pussy, he wants to fuck her pussy bad. Her mouth is amazing, don’t get him wrong, but her tight pussy throbbing on the bed is what he’s craving the most.

A tap is felt on his pelvis, and he stops pounding her throat. Her mouth gets removed from his cock, and she leans back on the bed, not breaking eye contact with him. After she gets in his full view, she looks up at him needy, spreading her legs open wide for him to enter.

Not even a hesitation before he gripped onto her hip with one hand, and the other guiding his cock inside her. He immediately shivers and rests his head in the crook of her neck. A pillow comes under her back and behind, and immediately, Art begins to fucking pound her.

Sadly, he doesn’t make noises at all. Y/N wishes she could hear his moans when entering her tight hole. His actions tell enough, eyes rolled back, mouth gaping open, and he barely entered her. Her body falls back more on the bed, and her arms go around him, hands on his back.

One hand of his slams against her bed, right aside her bed to give himself support, while the other is still on her hip, stabilizing her body for him as she gets fucked by a wild animal.

She pulls him tighter to her, their sweaty bodies connecting and making funny noises. His back begins to sweat, making her lose her grip, but her nails dig into his back to keep herself close.

The noises of skin slapping skin and her loud moans fill the house, and luckily, she is home alone. Her parents wouldn’t appreciate her getting fucked under their roof, especially with a murderous clown being the one that’s fucking her.

Her leg gets scooped up, and it rests on his shoulder, and he leans forward, pushing more of himself inside of her warmth.

Until he stops.

He pulls out, and taps on her chest. She looks up at him, confused, mostly at the lack of communication and also why he would stop. He swirls his finger in a circle, indicating for her to turn over, so that her ass faces him.

She swaps positions and as soon as she puts her ass up in the air for him to adore, he slams himself back inside, hands on her ass as he pounds so deep that his cock is hitting her cervix.

It really isn’t wise to put a dick that reeks of blood inside of her, especially a stranger’s. He probably doesn’t have any STDs, but it’s still a little unhygienic. Who cares though.

Her moans are muffled into a pillow, drool coating her mouth and the cushion. He gets amusement out of her, watching her ass jiggle on his dick, her hands clawing at her bed sheet. All because of him.

She arches her back more, and an upcoming orgasm is coming her way. Her core feels like it’s burning with pleasure, and her wetness seeps out. His cock is hitting her in all of the right places, and he connects their bodies together. He’s close to her ear, and she can almost hear him gasping for air. A hand cups her tit, and he goes as deep as he can, his mouth nibbling on her ear lobe.

Tension builds in her lower half, and she’s about to snap. Strings of curses and moans fall out of her mouth. A gentle slap on her ass makes her jump, and that is what makes her about to snap. Her breathing speeds up.

The knot in his stomach bursts, and a huge wave of pleasure goes through her. Eyes roll back into her head, her legs shake, and she collapses on her bed, Art pulling out of her.

He takes his cock in his hand, and strokes it so he can cum as well. Anywhere is a target. He could cum on her ass, her tits, her face, in her mouth, even inside of her. She turns around onto her back, leaving an open area for his semen to fly onto. Right there, on her perky tits.

More strokes go on, and his twitching cock is ready to burst. He points it at her chest and a white load shoots out from his dick, landing, mostly, on her tits. The rest flew off either in her hair or on the bed sheets.

The both of them try to catch their breaths, and Y/N is trying to comprehend what just happened.

A murderer went to her house, wanted candy for trick or treating, came back to her house later at night covered in blood, someone else’s blood, he messes around in her house, and fucks her.

Art leans down, and gives her one last kiss on her inner thighs, before supposedly leaving.

She just sits on her bed.

Her pussy is too sore to even move.

Her legs are shaking from the mind blowing orgasm she just got.

Cum is dripping off her chest.

What now?

She grabs a random shirt that’s on the floor to wipe off the semen, then tosses it in her hamper. She tries to get up off the bed, but her balance is very uncoordinated, and she collapses. Her comfy clothes that she had lying out fell on the ground while she was getting fucked, and she reaches out to grab them. She lazily slipped them on, and tried to stand up again, using a bookshelf as her balance.

Something falls on the other side of the house.

He’s still here.

She limps towards her doorway and looks around.

“Art?”.

Obviously no response, the fucker doesn’t even talk.

She comes out of her room, hand on the wall as she glides down the hallway, and sees a shadow in her living room.

And a bag.

A trash bag.

She goes towards the bag, and as soon as she gets too close, the clown jumps up behind her, and throws her on the couch, her head hitting against the back hard. He smiles at her rubbing the back of her head in pain, and he wiggles his fingers like he was a magician. The bag got opened, and he stuck a hand in there and pulled out an item.

It looked to be a saw.

Fear was obviously present in her eyes.

Art jumped at her, but not too close to actually get her, and she flinched. This is amusing to him. And he jumped again, and again, and again.

He slaps his knee and lets out a silent laugh, pointing at her like she’s a fool.

He drops the saw back in the bag, and pats the top of her head, then blows her a kiss as he picks up the bag, throwing it over his shoulder, then proceeding to comically walk away. He turned around when he got to the door, and he lifted his little top hat to her. She waved a small goodbye, and soon vanished. When he stuck his fingers in her mouth, they almost tasted like salt.

Wonder who’s blood he’s covered in?

Weird.

Dude must like salty foods

#terrifier #art the clown #smut #lol

83 notes · View notes