#art x reader

[jokeringcutio]

Art the Clown x Reader (WARNINGS) Halloween smut.

AN: Follow me for more Halloween Reader Inserts. More stories will follow this month.

Drabble. Please read ALL warnings. Pairing: Art the Clown x Reader Rating: Explicit Summary: It is Halloween when you bump into a clown and, embarrassed, apologize. Later that evening, your roommate Meri seems to have invited that very same clown into your house for a bit of fun. But that fun turns quickly into a nightmare.

Warnings: Mention of Murder, Cannibalism, death of a friend, Sexual content, dub-con. Reader is scared of clowns. Implied Virginity/First Time. Mention of Blood. Coulrophobia.

1.

The streetlights cast eerie shadows as you hurried home on Halloween evening, arms laden with bags of candy. It was the right atmosphere for it, you thought. All the shadows seemed longer, and in the dark, the ornaments of the houses seemed to come to life. Pumpkins, fake skeletons… Your heart pounded in your chest, the brisk autumn air chilling you to the bone.

As you turned the corner, you collided with a man dressed as a clown, gasping in shock. His attire immediately sent shivers down your spine; black and white suit divided vertically down the middle, large ruffles at his collar and cuffs. A tiny black hat perched atop a white bald cap, while his face was painted with stark contrasts of black and white makeup. The pointy nose bore a black dot, and his eyes were as dark as the abyss.

"Sorry, I didn't see you," you stammered, feeling your pulse race. As if it wasn’t bad enough that you accidentally walked into someone, he had to be dressed as a clown. And you had an irrational fear of clowns. You could not help but tremble and blush in embarrassment. Come on, you thought to yourself, it’s just a grown-up man wearing a costume. Clowns are supposed to be funny. Don’t be so scared.

Art the Clown stared at you silently, unblinking. It was unnerving, but you thought he took offense to the way you had reacted to his outfit. He probably had spent a lot of time getting dressed up, you thought, when you saw all the makeup he wore. And when people put a lot of effort into their costumes and looks, they want to be complimented. Not for some stranger to freak out and insult all of their hard work.

"I-I have coulrophobia,” you stammered, trying to explain your weird reaction to him. God, this was all so embarrassing. You wished you could just fade away. “I'm scared of clowns."

He tilted his head, a cruel smile forming on his painted lips. Nope, that definitely freaked you out again. You had to force a smile on your own, praying he did not see how much effort it took you to be kind and polite to him.

"Nice costume, though," you whispered while you let your eyes rove over his form shortly, just enough to note once again how oddly this man was dressed. Most clowns you met were colorful. But this one, he was grim. A true horror clown, you realized. He fits the theme of Halloween excellently.

“You’re going to enjoy yourself tonight,” you shyly mumbled, embarrassed by the entire encounter. You couldn’t wait to get away. Clutching the candy closer to your chest, you quickly bid him a good evening before stepping away from him and resuming your hurried pace toward home.

You felt the man’s eyes stare at your back until you rounded the corner.

2.

A few hours had passed and children from all over the neighborhood came trick-or-treating at the door. Their laughter and excited chatter filled the air. You glanced at the clock. Just one more hour before the party started. Meri, your roommate, was already wearing a nice blue dress with a  very short skirt. Deliberately. You knew she wanted to score tonight. Meri was like that, always eager for a nice time with a willing man.

You glanced down at yourself. You hadn’t really had the time to come up with something nice, but you knew that Meri had more than enough dresses in her closet. You’d borrowed some of her before.

“Yeah, you can borrow one of mine again,” you heard Meri say, and when you looked up you caught her looking at you with a grin.

“As if you can read thoughts,” you whispered, earning a chuckle from your friend.

“I can and I am damn good at it,” Meri said. “I have a pretty red one that would fit you well. Show a bit of cleavage,” she winked at you. “Can’t do no harm.” She turned around and beckoned you to follow her to her room. Once inside, she took the dress out of her closet and showed it to you. You chewed your lip worriedly.

“I don’t know,” you said, earnestly concerned about how revealing that dress actually was. Then your eye fell upon a dress you had borrowed from her before. “Can’t I just take the green one?”

Meri rolled her eyes. “God, no. You definitely need some action, babe. This dress will give you that. I guarantee it.” She thrust the dress into your hands and started to push you towards the door. “Go on, get changed.”

You were about to protest when the doorbell rang and you could hear kids shouting "trick or treat!" from beyond the door.

“I’ll get that,” Meri said with a wink. She smiled warmly at you while she made her way to the door. “Now go get changed, princess. I can’t go to the party with you dressed like that.”

You glanced down at yourself to see what she meant by that. Comfy pants, a baggy shirt, wintery socks. All right, you did not look like any of those women in the magazines. She had a point. With a sigh of defeat, you turned around to head to your own room.

But that was when an idea hit you.

Meri was answering the door. You could quickly slip into her room and pick up the green dress. It would only take a second.

Seizing the opportunity, you slipped into her bedroom, rummaging through her closet where you’d seen the dress you wanted to wear. With a bright smile, you found it. But just as your hand landed on the desired green dress, the sound of Meri's voice reached your ears. “Come in, thing. We can have a bit of fun in my room.”

You froze. The sound of footsteps heading your way made your heart leap into your throat. Had she invited someone in? By the sound of it, she was not alone.

Panicking, you dove into her wardrobe, the scent of her perfume enveloping you as you hid among her clothes.

Your breath hitched as Meri entered the room, the wardrobe door cracked open just enough for you to peek out.  “Come on in, sweetheart,” Meri playfully said. You saw her beckon someone who was still on the other side of the threshold. Meri was horny, there was no doubt. You knew she had been so for a while now, hence why she insisted on going to the party tonight. But apparently, someone had come and offered himself willingly at your door. A friend? Someone you knew? Steve again? He would sometimes come around. Or Will?

But when Meri turned around, that excited smile still on her lips, you could finally see the man who wished to follow her into the bedroom. An oversized shoe appeared over the threshold, followed by a suit that was half black and half white.

The evening's events played like a twisted nightmare in your head, the clown’s haunting smile refused to leave your thoughts. It was him though. He was dressed exactly as before: black and white suit, pointy nose, black eyes that held a malicious glint. Fear gripped you, but curiosity kept you from fleeing. Was Meri actually going to have sex with this stranger?

Peeking through the crack in the wardrobe, you saw Meri lead Art the Clown into her bedroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Quite the costume," Meri purred, running her fingers over his ruffled collar. "I like a man who knows how to stand out."

She didn't seem to care about his silence, only growing bolder in her advances. The stranger sat himself on the edge of her bed and Meri purred again. You wanted to roll your eyes at the show she made. Slowly, she began to undress, exposing more and more of her flawless skin. Meri was beautiful like that. It had often irked you how easily some things came to her, simply because of her looks.

Meri moved her hips alluringly from side to side, unhooking her bra like a stripper before she let it drop to the floor. Her fingers pressed against her breasts, pushing them closer together while she let out a moan. Art's gaze never wavered, locked onto her every movement. Then she shimmied her panties down her hips, slowly stepping out of them.

"Want a taste?" Meri asked, lying back on the bed and spreading her legs. Your breath caught in your throat as Art moved closer, kneeling between her thighs. One bandaged hand was placed on her naked thigh. You could have questioned why the man remained in his costume, but you didn’t. Instead, you felt your breath hitch in your throat at the sight. Sensual, you thought. You felt your own body respond, slick gathering between your folds unbiddenly. And yet, you could not tear your gaze away.

The clown’s tongue darted out. You could see the pink coming from between the black of his lips. A slurping wet noise. "Y-yeah, just like that," Meri moaned, arching her back as he went down on her. Another slurp, another moan, another spark of arousal down your core. You pressed your legs shut, a hand firmly against your lower abdomen. You shouldn’t respond to this. You shouldn’t. "God, you're so good with your mouth," Meri gasped.

The clown gave no reaction. He continued to lick and slurp, his fingers folding Meri’s pussy lips aside so his mouth could easily reach her pearl. He was sipping, slurping, licking, and nipping and you could not tear your eyes away. It was a mesmerizing sight. Meri’s hand found his scalp, pressing him even deeper between her legs. He licked her now. Long, languid licks.

Meri shuddered in ecstasy, but after a few moments of the same, she started to catch her breath again. "Too bad my roommate isn't like this," Meri murmured, but you could hear it. "She's such a wallflower, probably never even had sex. Scared of it, I'd bet." You felt your face flush with shame, wondering if she knew you were hiding there, listening to her words.

“That’s it, baby,” Meri panted, the hand between her legs bobbing up and down faster now. “That’s it, make me cum.” The clown was working his magic apparently, because Meri threw her head back, lost in pleasure.

You bit your lip and clutched the green dress closer against your chest. You didn’t want to watch, knew it was supposed to be a private moment. But curiosity got the better of you, for Meri was right. You weren’t like her. You weren’t-

Suddenly, Meri screamed, her hands started clawing at the sheets. Her eyes turned wide, bulging, the screeching sounds of her screams were painful to your ears. It took you a moment to realize what you saw. The clown’s head kept bobbing up and down between Meri’s legs, but something was wrong now.

Those dreadful black-painted lips no longer glistened with fluids of passion, you realized with a shock. Instead, a darker liquid streamed down the man’s chin, and something large and chunky was caught between his teeth. Your eyes widened in horror as you realized Art was no longer merely pleasuring her.  He was literally devouring her, tearing into her flesh with his teeth. Panic surged through you, but you couldn't look away. Your hands itched for your phone, to call 911, but you had left it in your room.

All you could do was watch. Watch and listen and pray.

3.

Darkness surrounded the place. All you heard was your own heavy breathing, like a drum announcing a war. Your ears hurt, your throat was dry, your body felt numb. A horrible stench reached your nostrils.

It was over, had been so for possibly hours. You could not tell. You had not dared to move in case the clown had not left the house yet. But you had heard the door ages ago. Yet fear had kept you frozen.

An eerie silence filled the room. You stayed hidden in the wardrobe, paralyzed by terror until you were sure the clown must have left. Logic told you that you could not stay here forever. Shaking and weak-kneed, you slipped out of your hiding place.

Moving as silently as possible, you tiptoed through the dimly lit apartment, avoiding the gruesome scene in Meri's room. Whatever was left of her - and it wasn’t much – had dripped all over the bedroom walls and floor. Her bed was drenched in blood. All you wanted was to get your phone and call for help – you couldn't bear to look at whatever was left of your friend.

The door to your bedroom creaked open, and you stepped inside, the scent of lavender from your bedsheets a faint comfort in the midst of chaos. Your eyes darted around the room, searching for your phone. Hadn’t you left it on your nightstand? You felt around in the dark but found nothing. And so, with trembling fingers, you flicked on the light switch.

You looked at the nightstand first, but your phone was nowhere to be seen. Strange, you thought, and with a frown, you turned around. You’d closed the door upon entering, and it still was. But there was something odd about the shape of the shadow you saw that fell on it. Almost as if you had grown larger all of a sudden.

With eyes wide, you very slowly turned back to your nightstand. It was just as you had feared. There he stood, Art the Clown, grinning maliciously as he waved your phone in the air. Fear clawed at your throat, leaving you unable to scream or move. His black eyes bore into you, holding you captive.

"Please," you whispered, voice barely audible, "don't hurt me."

He didn't respond, his silence more chilling than any words could be. In one fluid motion, he lunged forward, overpowering you with ease. He threw you onto the bed, his bony fingers digging into your flesh, betraying his inhuman strength.

"Stop," you choked out, but he continued, undeterred. His fingers ran down your body nimbly as he tore off your clothes. Piece by piece. You heard the fabric rip and tear and had to squeeze your eyes shut. The sound reminded you too much of earlier. Of her. Your friend.

You hardly noticed how swiftly he had you exposed and vulnerable beneath him. Not until a cold puff of air made your nipples peak and you finally looked.

Pitch-black eyes bore into yours and you had to bite back a cry of fear. His face was very close to your own, hovering over yours. From this close, you could see the black paint around his eyes and lips, how there wasn’t a single crack in the white surrounding it. With a shock, you realized his teeth were a rotten color. Black, brown. But they weren’t ordinary teeth. As he grinned at you, you saw that something about his mouth was wrong.

Scary thoughts clouded your mind. Would he tear his teeth into your flesh like he had done with Meri? Would he torture you too? You forced yourself not to think back to any of it. Not to the pleasure you had felt at first, or the fear after, or the helplessness.

You became aware of the sound of fabric rustling and followed his movements with your eyes. His arm moved, his hand was doing something down below. Your eyes came to rest just below his abdomen. You had not thought his suit could open there, but it could. Something large and pale popped out of its confines. Flesh, you thought alarmed. Hard and large. Veins throbbed, purple and black. The head spilled a droplet of something white. Pre-cum.

This was his cock? This monstrously large cock was to fit inside of you?

Your mouth had been dry before, but it became impossible to swallow as you watched the clown position himself between your legs. You wanted to protest, say no, push him away. Your hands were upon his chest without thinking, but he was stronger than you. You stood no chance.

“No, please,” you gasped while he fumbled with his cock at your entrance. He looked down at himself as he tried to position himself and seemed annoyed when he couldn’t find your entrance. You felt the leaky head brush past your folds a few times and panicked. Your heart beat faster and your chest heaved rapidly.

“Please,” you begged again, your hands still pushing against his shoulders – to no avail. Then, you felt it. The head nudged against your entrance, parting your walls ever so slightly. But he had noticed it as well. Art’s sour expression made room for a smile as if he was relieved. His eyes darted up to meet yours again, silently telling you that this was going to be fun.

“It won’t fit,” you pleaded weakly, but your whispered words ended in a silent gasp when Art thrust forth, burying his large cock inside your deep warmth in one go. Too much. Your back arched, pressing your body up against his. Your naked breasts brushed past the coarse fabric of his suit. You didn’t care at this point that his clothes were riddled with spots of blood. Everything was focused on the feel of his shaft deep inside of you, hitting the depth of you mercilessly with a blunt thrust.

You gasped silently - as if the clown had ripped your voice away and had rendered you mute. Blood covered his shaft as he pulled out, making him smile even wider. Was that yours? You were pleading silently for this nightmare to end. But as he thrust inside of you, a shameful warmth began to spread through your body. Despite the terror, you found yourself responding to his touch, your heart racing for reasons other than fear. With your hands you tried to claw at him while his hands circled your hips, getting a good grip on your flesh before he started pounding into you in a steady rhythm.

That awful grin of his never seemed to leave his face. Not while he was treating you like a nice piece of meat, slapping your ass while he thrust inside of you. You could see his wicked teeth - black and brown and yellow - and had to force yourself not to think of what his mouth could do. His hips slapped against yours, hipbones prodding against your softer flesh. He was lean and nimble, but the grip he had on you with his hands was fierce and unyielding, certain to leave bruises.

A low moan threatened to spill from your lips and you rolled your head from side to side. What was he doing to you? The clown’s pointy chin brushed past your clavicle as he dipped his head forward, and then you felt his teeth brush past your skin. Scared that he would take a bite and tear out your flesh, you tried to arch your back away from him, but felt him respond by intensifying his grip and pushing you back down. As a response, you had earned a deep harsh thrust with his hips, feeling the head of his cock batter your cervix cruelly.

With each stroke deep inside, you felt your pussy lubricate the way for him. You felt your body respond to his wicked touch. Each slap against your ass had your walls squeeze down on him hard. Each thrust deep inside your core seemed to hit a delicious spot that made you see stars.

Breathlessly, you allowed him to rut inside of you, unable to stop him and unable to so much as make a sound while he pounded you into oblivion. You were helpless against the pleasure that threatened to consume you. He moved relentlessly, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

It didn't make sense – how could you enjoy this? Was there something wrong with you?

A few times you tried to close your eyes, but a slap to your cheek had you open them again to gaze up into the black depths of hell. His devilish smile was above you at all times, grinning down, reminding you of the pleasure he derived from your body. And the pleasure he gave you in turn. Sickening as it was, the demonic man above you managed to bring forth feelings that made your body tremble in agonizing pleasure.

When you came, your walls clamped down hard upon his shaft, milking him in a silent plea for more. You bit your lip from crying out. No way you’d show him that you enjoyed this. You wouldn’t give him the pleasure of your moans.

The silence made the wet sounds only seem louder. Wet thrusts of his cock as he slammed it inside of you hard, despite your walls milking him for all you were worth. Noises of sin, of pleasure, of lust. And then, as he finished inside of you, a shudder ran through your body, your climax tearing through you like a wildfire.

You were still biting your lip, aware it must be bleeding by now, but you’d be damned if you so much as would let him hear your passion. You glanced up at him. The wicked clown’s smile had disappeared. In its stead, you now saw a pensive, almost endearing look in his eyes, as he cocked his head and seemed to study you.

A calloused finger tilted your head back, revealing your throat to him while you looked back at him through half-lidded eyes. He tilted his head to the other side again, dick still twitching inside of your tight cunt, and seemed to study the tears in your eyes. You hadn’t noticed they had formed there. Would have wanted to say they were out of fear or sadness, rather than the harsh truth that they were out of pleasure.

With bated breath, you waited for what he was to do next. Would he kill you now, you wondered? The clown moved, his cock slipping from your core limply, leaving behind a trail of dark blood and yellowish cum.

He surprised you by moving forward, leaning on his elbows, as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead in a twisted mockery of tenderness. The contrast between his sadistic actions and this tender gesture only served to confuse you further.

You squeezed your eyes shut, thinking that surely this would be it. But the rustle of fabric against the bed indicated that he moved away. You waited and listened, heart beating wildly in your chest. But there was only the sound of another rustle. Plastic?

Curious, you opened your eyes to find Art standing several feet away. Picking up a garbage bag you hadn't noticed before, Art slung it over his shoulder and made his way to the window. Not the door, you noted. But the window. How odd?

He opened it. The sound of the window sent a shiver down your spine as you lay on the bed, watching the clown swing one leg over the edge and step outside. He turned around to face you. His black eyes glinted demonically in the darkness of the night – like little coals of fire. And then his smile returned once more. Seeing it, seeing him like that, made something twist deep inside of you.

And still, no sound could come forth from between your lips. The only thing you noticed was how warm your pussy felt at the sight of him, how your nipples peeked, and how your walls clamped down around his phantom cock, craving the real thing to be returned to you.

With a final, silent laugh, he blew you a kiss before disappearing into the night, leaving you alone in the aftermath of your orgasm, mind racing with a thousand unanswerable questions. ~ Fin ~

AN: Hope you enjoyed it :) ♡ Support me on Ko-Fi ♡ Love you all

#art x reader #art the clown x reader #terrifier #terrifier 2 #art the clown #art the clown x you

[cupids-scream-queen]

Can I please have a art x reader smut!! I will beg 🤭

Warning: EXTREME dubcon, blood, knives, physical assault, mentions of sexual assault, forced blowjob, bite marks, might just be the nastiest piece of shit I've written to date

Summary: she was just a little clowngirl, so innocent, so lost...until he showed up.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

She was beautiful. That's how all these start, right? Some beautiful girl kidnapped and sexually tortured by some fat, old man and his sexually incompetent wife.

Except, that's not how it started, at least not for her. No, it started at the local fair, on Halloween night, looking for $5 to purchase a candied apple from a kiosk.

She was dressed like a clown, her makeup a mix of Pennywise and some other twisted clowns, her face and neck covered in fake blood. She wore fishnets, with two different patterns of thigh-high socks on. She had her jet black hair tied in pigtails, false strands of red and white peaking through. She was hot as fuck, and she knew it.

Perhaps that was why she wasn't comfortable with asking the myriad of men who approached her for money, afraid of them asking for much, much more than just a thank-you as payment.

Perhaps that was why she trusted the silent, horror clown that was peering at her through the windows of an old building that was being used as that night's Haunted House.

She went to him confidently, her smile flashing her teeth, her red lips parting to ask him a so very, very simple question.

"May I borrow $5, sir? I don't have enough and I'd like to buy an apple," She pointed to the stand, which a fat, cheerful-looking man handed out three delicious, red-coated apples to a mother with a gaggle of kids. The Clown looked at her, smiling with a set of bewildering teeth. She wasn't nervous, though, not at first. It was Halloween--he simply had an elaborate costume, right?

Instead, she was surprised when he beckoned for her to follow him, through a valley of dark and otherwise intimidating trees. She raised her eyebrow, quizzically, questioning her options.

"Did you park your car there, sir?" The clown nodded, motioning for her to join him. She still trusted him--how could she not? He looked as if he worked here, with how elaborate his costume was. Perhaps she should trust him, then, perhaps he really did leave his wallet in his car, and perhaps he was going to give her the money.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Another nod, and the clown reached out to touch her hands. She wasn't scared, not yet, because she hadn't had any red flags from this strange man yet. He was maybe doing a bit, wasn't he? It would be rude of her not to play along, isn't it?

"I'll follow you if you promise me the five dollars, okay?" He nodded again, and she let out a sigh before she started walking with him to the treeline, his hand holding hers. He was quite a bit taller than her, and stronger--her hand was in a small amount of pain from how tightly he gripped her. For his part, the clown was trying his best to appear appealing--the girl was someone he didn't want to get away, at least not yet. Perhaps later, but his plan has to happen first.

She was shivering slightly and struggling to keep up as the clown walked faster, his back turned to her as he navigated his way through the dense Forrest of trees. She could barely hear the fair anymore, the sounds of children's laughter replaced by the occasional caws of a crow.

"Aren't we a little far, Mr. Clown?" She asked, her voice starting to lace with worry. This was the part he so desperately desired--when she was going to realize she was alone, truly, and she had trusted the wrong person.

He turned, and stopped suddenly, and she bumped into him. Without warning, the clown taped her wrists together, binding them with a sticky layer of tape. His hands on her shoulders, she tried kicking andscreaming, but it was no use. He was stronger--and apparently smarter--than she was.

He taped her mouth shut next, the tape ruining her whiteface clown makeup and her lipstick. She looked at him, begging, to be let go. Art had no sympathy for her, he was incapable of that feeling.

But sexual pleasure was one thing that Art could feel, and tonight, he was going to exploit her body for all it was worth. He started by unpacking the bag at his feet, and she couldn't help but wonder where it came from. But when Art pulled out a knife, screwdriver, and a broken piece of a doll's head, she knew she was in deep shit.

She tried to scream against the tape as he started to undress her, ripping the seams of her costume with his knife. He touched her soft breast, groping it. How beautifully it felt against his hands. How pretty it was, when her nipples got hard. Should he cut them off? No, he had a better idea.

Smiling sinisterly, he pulled nipple clamps out of his bag, and ripped the bra off of her. Exposing her bare breasts, her nipples hardened at once to being exposed to the cold air of October, and she felt the tears prick in her eyes as she felt the hard, tight clamps clip down on her nipples. She started to cry, the sight only arousing Art more.

He then began the business of her pesky legs. Not wanting to get rid of the beautiful limbs, he settled for taping them securely, eliminating any chance of her running away. She was naked now, bound and gagged for this sick clown's pleasure. And all she could do was helplessly feel everything he did to her.

He then got his screwdriver, and rammed it into her pussy, the cold metal stinging her insides. He was careful not to hurt her, instead deciding to use this as a sort of lesson. To show her that, if he wanted to, he could hurt her, and to show her to be careful of whatever she did. She had no power in this situation.

He began to take his own clothes off, and he smiled sinisterly as he took his throbbing, aching dick out. Instinctively she swallowed upon seeing the size, her pussy beginning to get wet around the screwdriver as she began to wonder if he'd fit. If he didn't? She guessed he would make it fit.

He began stroking it in front of her, before slapping her across the face with his member. He grinned at the sight, and she looked at him with glassy eyes. She was beautiful, and his to ruin, and he took that job to the next level.

He tugged on her pigtails, forcing his dick on her face a few more times before he got tired of it. He then rubbed it against her ass, her tits, and her back--threatening her. The screwdriver was still inside of her, the thin rod of metal doing nothing to help the empty feeling inside of her as Art continued to rub his dick on her body.

He paused his game, twisting the screwdriver hard inside of her, pressing it farther against the walls. She screamed against the tape again, and Art slapped her, tired of her not realizing or comprehending what kind of a situation she was in. How stupid could this woman be?

He then took his abandoned knife and brandished it against her throat, cutting it. Not enough to kill, enough to draw blood and warn her not to get out of hand. She nodded as if understanding the gesture, and Art decided it was time to have some other fun with his fucktoy tonight. He ripped the tape off of her face, pressing the knife against her cheek as he stood above her, pressing the tip of his dick against her lips.

She took him in, parting her lips. But it wasn't fast enough for Art, who pushed past and went completely into her mouth and hitting the back of her throat. He fucked her mouth, using one hand to use her pigtails as a rope and the other hand pressing a knife against her cheek, the blood spilling out of it mesmerizing as she sucked on his cock. Obediently, like a good clown slut.

Her gag reflexes were working overtime. She puked more than once, being forced to swallow it from the rate at which the clown was fucking her mouth. Her makeup was ruined with tears streaming down her face, her head tired and her mouth sore. Art kept the knife on her face, periodically slashing a new part of it, marking her as his.

He was finished with her mouth. Slapping her across the face, then patting her on the head, he put another piece of tape on her mouth, holding a finger to his smiling lips. She understood.

Now that her throat was bare, she felt the aching emptiness of her core, and realized she was wet. For him, the man who was currently rummaging around in his sick fucking bag, waiting to present her with yet another instrument of torture.

This time, it was a leash.

He grinned as he attached it to her, enjoying the way she looked up at him, pleading with him to let her go. Of course he wouldn't. Not when she was such a good girl for him.

He tugged on the leash, forcing her to sprawl out at his feet. He spit on her, allowing her to know her place as beneath him. He then rolled her tired body over, and took the screwdriver out of her pussy. Sticking two fingers in, he quickly added another two, stretching her to her limits. She cried out against the tape, earning her yet another slap across the face.

He then pulled out, and she whined, practically pleading to be fucked already. Art would oblige. And with no warning, he pushed in all the way, forcing her to take his massive cock. And she did, though it felt as if she was being stretched in a million positions. She was going to be a good whore for him--maybe she'd get out alive.

He fucked her rough and hard, continuing to make tiny cuts into her body and pinching down on the nipple clamps as hard as he could. He used her body, he was fucking her roughly. And she, for her part, was beginning to find pleasure in the pain.

He kept the collar and the leash on, tugging at it occasionally if he felt she was enjoying it too much. This was to be her worst nightmare; he couldn't have her fully in pleasure, now could he? He picked up the screwdriver and made the decision to shove it in her pussy alongside his cock, making her whine. It was cold, but the sharp point of it was hitting against her walls, likely drawing blood. Good. This was not to be enjoyable for anyone except for him.

He felt her cum against his dick, her pussy clenching on him as she tried to conceal her orgasm. No matter, he'd simply torture her. He'd certainly experience the same amount of pleasure.

Taking his dick out of her, he slapped her, jabbing the knife into her shoulder, causing her to wince and cry in pain. Good. To Art, it felt like music, and it was music--a song only he would hear, ever. And he continued to abuse her, cutting her and hurting her in ways she couldn't even dream of. And all the while, he was rubbing his cock, an ever-present reminder to her that he was enjoying every second of her pain.

When he finally came, it was not in her, it was on her face, ruining her hair with thick ropes of cum. Art looked at the woman in front of him, bruised, broken, and battered, and grinned. A joke only he could understand, a scene that would play only for him. He'd allow her to live--he couldn't fathom someone finding her before she died of the cold or her injuries. It wasn't something that was a priority to him.

And so he packed his bag, leaving her taped-up and cummed on, her makeup ruined and her clothes in shreads around her. As pretty as a picture. Getting dressed, Art moved back to the fair, his grin more dastardly than ever before. Leaving her to figure out how to survive alone.

pkay...so a little dark. Thank you to @miracleslifewithart for requesting this; hopefully I did a good job!

#Art x reader #Terrified #terrifier #terrifier 2 #art the clown #slashers x reader #slasher fucker #slasher fandom #slasher fanfiction #slasher smut #slasher community #slasher movies #jason vorhees #slashers

[honkmesilly]

My Art the Clown Hcs

warning for nsfw / adult content / fluff

SFW vvvvv

If you sleep with a hair wrap or bonnet on he has to also sleep with one.

He has fluffy hair underneath his cap and it’s always extremely messy. Alternatively he is actually bald and likes you to draw on his shiny dome.

You complimented the Alice Cooper like spikes on his eye makeup once and he hasn’t forgotten about it since.

This mf ALWAYS has some sort of candy in his pocket. It’s always different variations of flavors and melted-ness.

He’d rather do a backflip onto a bed of nails than to touch cotton balls.

This man loves Chinese leftovers. There is no less than 3 take out containers scattered around his habitat at all times.

He has a ratty teddy bear and a blanket that has been fuckin THROUGH it. He’s sensitive about washing them. Don’t bring it up.

He will not cross a road unless you are holding his hand. He will drop that trash bag and honk at you for 20 minutes until you give in.

The trash bag of misc weapons ripped one time and his mouth opened only for him to immediately just lay face down on the ground giving his horn a half squeeze. It was as close to making a sound he has ever come.

If you ARE lucky enough to domesticate him he has to sleep right up next to you. He doesn’t care which spoon he is as long as he’s close enoigh that he can feel the pulse beneath your skin.

HONK! Oh don’t worry that was just you rolling over on his horn. It sleeps with y’all. You have to give it a kiss goodnight too.

If you have a plushy. No you don’t. Bc why aren’t you cuddling him? Now your plushy has been beheaded and dismembered. He didn’t like seeing you cry so he stitches it back together very very badly and it some how makes it even cuter? The frankenfuck of a bear you have now.

Nsfw vvvvv

It’s average in length and above avg. in girth. It’s veiny like his arms and hands.

Turning this man on is a chore because unless you are ready for the debauchery he will hump anything in sight like a dog.

Only wears condoms if they are fun colors and even then he just wants to make balloon animals.

Good and careful at oral but if you do not keep your eyes on him at all times he will put pop rocks in his mouth or drip liquid candy down your anatomy.

Once he’s inside he’s got a grip on you that could rival the gods. You’re not getting a break until he’s done.

Your little noises and moans bring out a new kind of twisted smile from him. He will find new ways to tease and torture you. Constantly looking for new ways to break your will.

The horn comes to bed with him. Just get used to the honking to the rhythm. He’s got fucking jokes.

Certified boob man. If you are braless or looking particularly thick up there the intrusive thoughts will win. Pinching, poking, biting, smacking, grabbing. He will try to pierce your nipples so check! His! Pockets!

If you have big thighs expect him to try and live there. Congrats you probably have some sort of rash or acne between your thighs now because he can’t go long without having his face smooshed between them.

After a busy night of being a menace & maiming he is particularly annoying and needy. He wants you to care for his hygiene. Wash away the blood and viscera..rub his chest.. hold onto his arms. He needs your attention in very specific ways and he will lash out if you can’t read what he needs. (Spanking, tie you up, bite you, write his name on you with something sharp)

#art the clown #clowns #coulrophilia #coulrophobia #david howard thornton #terrifier #horror #slasher x you #slashers #slasher x s/o #slasher headcanons #art x reader #art the clown x reader #feral predator

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

i was wondering if you can write an art the clown x afab reader

so i have this thought that like reader is one of the people art was chasing down in the abandoned apartment and once he has them tied up on a chair, he notices the slutty costume with a short skirt they’re wearing and cant help but pull the readers panties aside and do as he pleases

reader doesnt know why they like it but they so. also maybe have art threaten them w weapons while he fucks them but doesnt actually use them

a/n: thank you so much for the request! i think i kinda went a little bit off base with this but i hope you like it! :)

pairing: art x afab!reader

warnings: smut, dark content, NONCON turned DUBCON, clowns, reader wears a skirt, threat, kidnapping, restraints, knife play, object insertion, gun play, branding

word count: 961

Your eyes felt like they had been glued shut as you attempted to force them open. Your head was pounding and when you finally managed to open your eyes, you were met with the sight of a dark room, a pressure surrounding your wrists.

Looking down, you found that your wrists had been tied to the arms of a chair, the frayed material of the rope rubbing against your skin.

You lifted your gaze back to the walls that surrounded you, and there was nothing but damp and rot. But when you looked a little further to the side, you managed to spot the clown leaning against the wall, a black and white painted face staring back at you.

And that was when it hit you, the memory of running, flashes of panic entering your mind as you stared at the menacing eyes of the clown, his black rimmed smile sending shivers down your spine.

Panic started to rise in your chest, and you desperately began pulling on the rope around your wrists, but all it did was chisel away at your skin, only worsening the burns that had been forming there.

And it was then that the clown finally advanced towards you, his eyes alight with excitement as he stepped closer.

But when he got close enough, you noticed his eyes skate down your body, stopping at the sight of the short skirt that barely covered your thighs. It didn't take much to realise what he was thinking, so you started attempting to push yourself backwards, your feet pathetically kicking out in front of you as you fought against your restraints.

Although it proved to be unsuccessful as you couldn't manage to move so much as an inch as the clown leaned over you, seemingly inspecting you as you struggled.

He paused for a moment, still staring down at you, and you flinched when he suddenly reached between your legs, his fingers hooking around the material of your panties before pulling them down, leaving them resting around your knees.

You were still struggling in your restraints, muttering quiet 'no's' as you tried to back away from your kidnapper, but it was no use as the clown revealed a knife, a sickening grin spreading across his face as he looked at you.

Your eyes went wide at the sight of the weapon, a scream becoming caught in your throat as you continued to push yourself further against the chair.

Tears were streaming down your face as the clown advanced closer, sliding the handle of the blade between your thighs, the cold metal grazing your exposed pussy.

You jerked away, but that only seemed to annoy the clown as he frowned at you, removing the knife from between your legs and turning to a black garbage bag nearby.

You watched as he rummaged around in it for a moment before finally unveiling a gun.

"Please don't kill me." You found yourself pleading, only managing to earn an amused smile from the clown.

He quickly returned to you, holding the gun in front of your face, the knife still held in his other hand. What did he even want?

"Please." You cried, shaking your head. "Please, don't."

The clown merely offered you a silent laugh, returning the knife to its previous position between your thighs, the cold metal once again brushing your clit.

He kept the gun held to your head as a warning, and he slowly inched the handle of the knife inside of you, the sensation of the metal becoming uncomfortable.

He seemed amused as he watched you squirm in front of him, pushing the metal further. Your head flew back, your hips involuntarily rocking into the knife, heat already pooling in your core.

A moan escaped your lips when he started moving the knife back and forth, the cool metal sending shockwaves through your body.

You wanted to tell him to stop, you wanted to scream for help or at least fight back, except you couldn't find it in you to try.

You were now grinding against the weapon, sinful moans tumbling from your lips and your pleas for help had died in your throat.

"Please." You whispered, your eyes screwing shut as you desperately moved against the knife, your walls clenching around the metal. "Oh shit...please."

The clown simply gave you a silent chuckle, thrusting the knife inside you at a quicker pace, lowering the gun away from your head.

You were practically begging him to keep going now, the pressure building in your stomach as he continued his movements against you. You didn't even care where you were at this point, you were just desperate to reach your release.

And it wasn't long until the fire that had been building inside of you finally exploded, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body as you moaned loudly, your wrists pulling on the rope.

"Oh my God!" You cried out, your chest heaving and your eyes burning with tears. "Yes!"

Once he was satisfied, the clown removed the knife from your pussy, your slick coating the handle. He then brought the weapon up to his mouth, licking a stripe up the handle, before lowering it back down to rest the blade against your thigh.

You weren't sure what he was doing, but it seemed you wouldn't be in the dark for long because you suddenly felt a sting, the tip of the blade now piercing your flesh.

You let out a pained groan, unable to escape as he began carving something into your flesh. And then finally, after a couple of minutes, he stepped back to examine his work, a proud smile on his face.

You looked down to find the words, 'Art was here', carved into your thigh.

[Main Masterlist]

#art the clown #art the clown x reader #art the clown x you #art the clown smut #art the clown oneshot #art x reader #art the clown fanfic #art the clown fanfiction #art the clown terrifier #terrifier art the clown #terrifier #terrifier fanfiction #terrifier fanfic #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: knife play #tw: gun play

[therainywriter]

Welcome Home (Fluff)

Pairing: Art the Clown x Reader

It was a cold and unusually dark night. Art wasn't home, he’d been gone for a few days already. You faintly hoped he wouldn’t return, that things would go back to the way they were before he forced himself into your life.

Another part of you looked forward to seeing him again, to be caught under his intense gaze and lured into his arms. It was cruel how he deceived you with gentle touches and almost intimate stares.

Those soft moments switch in the blink of an eye. Little nibbles at your neck turn into harsh bites and tender caresses become a tight, painful grip. You’re starting to like it, seek it even.

You glanced down at the nasty green bruises on your thighs, exposed by your soft cotton shorts. He liked to leave an impression behind when he was going to be gone a while. Something to remember him by, though he was already certain you wouldn’t forget.

He had you wrapped around his slender, deadly finger and you didn't do a single thing about it. He was like an addiction, you couldn't just quit him though a part of you desperately wanted to.

It was strange how you were drawn to him, how the sick embrace of his arms brought you such strong sense of security. You were certain something was wrong with you and he was to blame.

He twisted your mind, your body, your entire being. 

Art was funny too, quiet the comedian when he was in a particularly good mood. You smiled to yourself at the though of his goofy shenanigans, an image of him standing at the door in sunflower sunglasses making you giggle.

He was so incredibly unpredictable. You could only hope that was the side of Art you’d see when he came home. 

Little did you know, he’d been standing at the doorway as you cleaned the kitchen counter, oblivious to him and lost in thought.

He tilted his head, observing you. A small smile ghosted your lips, a fond memory perhaps. He wondered if that little expression of happiness would disappear once you saw him.

Slowly, he made his entrance, careful not to startle you too quickly. He grinned, raising his hands to hover over your hips. You screamed as soon as he made contact and his grin only widened.

You gulped, catching your breath as Art picked you up and placed you on the counter you’d been cleaning. 

“That was mean,” you frowned, rubbing a bit at your chest. He waved off your complaint and stared at you, almost expectantly. Though you were unsure of what exactly he wanted.

His arms moved to either side of you and he leaned forward a bit, still standing tall as his head tilted. You were effectively trapped, if you tried to scoot back he’d only grab you.

“Welcome home Art,” you said, voice quieter than before as you looked up at him with nervous eyes. 

He shook his head, wrong answer.

His head was now level with yours, eyes staring holes into your own. The mood had shifted and you now felt a little ill.

You didn't think when you pressed your lips to his, feeling him smile against your mouth and move between your legs, closer to you. Right answer.

His hands moved to the back of your head and fingers tangled themselves gently in your hair. You wrapped your arms around his neck, gasping for air once he finally pulled away.

“Did you miss me?” you questioned, out of breath.

He nodded, wiggling his eyebrows before bopping your nose and moving around you to wander elsewhere in the house. You sat there for a moment more before getting off the counter and gathering your cleaning supplies. 

Art was home.

#as requested! #too fluffy for art? #art the clown x reader #art x reader #terrifier art the clown #terrifier #the terrifier #terrifier x reader #terrifier 2 #art the clown x you #art x you #fluff #my writng #rainywriter #art the clown #more yautja content coming up next!

[slasherbish]

Art the Clown x GN reader

It's Art the clown so of course it's going to be bloody.

------------------------

Most of a friend group had been killed off in an abandoned building. The only survivors being (y/n) and their close friend (f/n). The two were being hunted by a maniacal killer clown. (Y/n) and (f/n) froze as they rounded a corner, not five feet in front them stood the grinning monochrome clown. His suit splattered with the blood of the other victims. Art waved at the two. In his other hand was a metal pipe studded with blades. (F/n) screamed at the top of their lungs pushing (y/n) towards the killer.

“Take them, not me!! Don’t kill me, you can kill them!” (F/n) yelled running in the opposite direction. (Y/n) stood dumbfounded watching their friend run away. Art was confused. 

“That fucking bitch.” They muttered, turning to face the clown. “Can you believe that?”

Art jokingly offered the weapon he was holding to the seething person standing in front of him. To his surprise the victim took the weapon and for a split second he was worried he was about to get hit in the head with his own weapon. That worry was squashed when the person whispered a thanks and ran off in the direction of their friend.  He flinched at the viciousness in their voice as they screamed “Come back here you back stabbing bitch!” 

Oh this was going to be entertaining, he thought. Art stood still silently giggling with glee over the situation he created by accident. Confusion still tickled his brain, (y/n) had the perfect opportunity to end the serial killers life but didn’t, could the betrayal of their friend really have overshadowed the fact that he, a killer clown, was trying to murder them and all their friends? 

Moments later he was ripped from his thoughts by cries and screams. The sounds of pure terror was music to his ears. Art snuck towards the sounds. The cries and screams stopped suddenly. He moved a little faster, turning into a room of the abandoned building. The scene in front of him made him smile wider than normal. There in front of him stood (y/n), chest heaving, eyes filled with rage, and a metal blade studded pipe dripping with blood. Art blinked a few times and shook his head to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. (Y/n) stood above the limp bloodied body of (f/n). Art hadn’t expected that to happen. He clapped his hands in joy and congratulations. 

(Y/n)’s gaze snapped to the gleeful killer clown. They walked towards him pushing the weapon into his hands and walking past and down the hall without a word. Oh, he really liked this one. He would have to keep them around for a while.

#horror #art the clown #arttheclown #slasher x y/n #slasher #slasher x reader #slashers #x reader #x y/n #xreader #x gn reader #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #bloody #art x reader #art the clown x reader #art the clown x you #terrifier x reader #terrifier movie #terrifier

[dustylava]

Little monster: "my mama always told me, that appearance in a man, is not the main thing. That beauty in a man, it is not necessary. But how can I ignore the appearance of my future lover, when my papa looks that handsome?"

#terrifier #terrifier 2 #all hallowns' eve #the 9th circle #art the clown #art #art the clown x reader #art the clown x you #art x reader #art x you #horror movies #slasher movies #slashers #movie #тупые шутки как смысл жизни

[iamalreadydead]

I have started a NSFW only server for Art the clown simps, pictures and GIFs and smut very welcome!

So get thirsty for Art with some other peeps.

All genders and sexualities are welcome as I am Queer myself. Gay, straight somewhere in-between I love you.

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🤎🖤🤍

NO MINORS FULL STOP / PERIOD

we are all friends here, keep it kind and respectful to each other, no kink shaming but please don't fetishize pedophilic stuff obviously.

Feel free to make suggestions to me to open new channels if you have certain kinks and want them to be included.

So hope on in and join the fun.

https://discord.gg/xM7bMRANSZ

#terrifier smut #the terrifier #terrifier 2 #art the clown #art x reader #art the clown headcanon #david howard thornton #discord server #lgbtq #im a simp #simp server

[coiled-dragon]

My Bloody Valentine

#terrifier #art the clown #art x reader #fanfic #my fic #archive of our own #ao3 #valentines day #mind the tags!!!

[midascrow]

I love him so much

insta: Midas.S.Crow

#hazbin x reader #fanart #hazbin hotel #hazbin art #hazbin hotel fanart #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer magne #lucifer x reader

[jokeringcutio]

Art the Clown x Reader Drabble "Giving Birth to Art's Baby" [ EXPLICIT, Gore]

AN: Nobody asked for this. Summary: If Reader had Art’s baby. (or: You realize you're fucked, birthing a demon's child, but get a bright idea while doing so)

Warnings: Explicit content (Blood/Murder/Birth), Demon!Art, Demon!kid, Cannibalism/Placenta eating. Mentioned Forced Impregnation. Reader gives birth. Reader tries to survive. Reader lives by the end of this chapter. You have Art’s look-a-like baby (not just his head. An actual kid).

The sterile whiteness of the hospital room blurred into a canvas of dread as they told you to push. "You can do this," the nurse said, her voice a harsh command against the silence of your unborn child's heart—a silence that had been haunting you since labor began. The monitors sang no lullaby of life; instead, they hummed a dirge for the creature stirring inside, the one you knew bore no resemblance to a human babe.

"Push!" she insisted, but something primal within you recoiled. Your mind reeled, images of the ultrasounds flickering like a horror show behind your eyes—those glimpses of something otherworldly, something that twisted the midwives' faces into masks of confusion and fear. You felt it squirming, an alien presence in the sanctuary of your womb. Its head, too large, its limbs, too sharp—you remembered the cold gel on your belly and the screen showing a chest empty of a beating heart and a skull with teeth that no other baby ever had.

The images had filled you with nightmares.

"Push, damn it!"

With each word from her lips, you were torn further between the instinct to expel the abomination and the unnatural maternal pull towards the thing you carried. It looked slightly human, yes, but there was no pulse, no thrumming of life—just the void where a heartbeat should echo.

"Push, or we'll lose you both!"

Your muscles clenched, a symphony of pain rippling through you as you fought to obey, to be rid of the living death inside. You tried to calm the tempest in your chest, telling yourself over and over, "I can do this."

Then he invaded your thoughts—Art, the demon, the clown in black and white, a mockery of joy and laughter. His teeth, those sharp instruments of terror, flashed in your memory, evoking the night of unspeakable horror when he had claimed you. Should you have fought him harder? Should you have shouted or cried? His touch was a brand, his seed the poison that grew into the monstrosity within.

You had recognized the shape of the baby’s skull the instant the ultrasound had shown it. His teeth. His head. His heartless frame.

Mass murderer and psycho on the run. A clown who never spoke and was never caught. A criminal the police claimed to have killed time after time again, yet he kept returning. You weren’t stupid. You knew he was no ordinary man, had seen and felt him up close, had lived through carrying his offspring and felt its tiny hands like claws inside your womb.

"Push! I see the head!"

Your scream tore through the air, a battle cry against the violation that had led to this moment. With a guttural cry, you bore down, every fiber of your being straining to bring forth the offspring of darkness. The nurses leaned in, their faces etched with morbid curiosity and professional detachment.

"More! Now!"

And you did. You pushed past the fear, the revulsion, and the anguish. You pushed because surrender was not an option. The child of Art, the silent clown with the soulless bright eyes surrounded by circles of dark, was coming, and you would face it, even as it threatened to tear you apart.

"Head's out!"

The words cut through the fog of your agony, and for a brief, impossible moment, hope flickered. But it was a fool's hope, born of pain and desperation. For what lay between your thighs was neither dead nor alive, neither human nor wholly other. It was the unholy union of your flesh and Art's demonic whimsy, born into a world that would never understand its existence.

"Keep going, you're almost there!"

That nurse's voice, so insistent, so devoid of the horrors that awaited, spurred you on. And you pushed again, into the unknown, into the nightmare made flesh.

The sterile chill of the delivery room clawed at your senses, but nothing could compare to the icy grip of fear that seized your heart. The nurse's declaration was a death knell, ringing hollow in your ears.

"Oh no, look at that color,” she breathed out, her words a ghost lingering in the air. The child’s head was as white as the sheets you were birthing on.

Your gaze fixed on the writhing mass that now slipped free from your body, its skin as white as untouched snow, not a shade of life to be found. Terror danced in the nurse's eyes as she caught the creature you had birthed, fully convinced to hold a stillborn child.

But then it turned its head towards her, lips pulled back in a macabre grin, black and white painted across its face like a twisted replica of Art's mime visage.

It was as you had feared it would be. Any hope you had held that your baby might come out all rosy and normal faded like ice under the sun.

"God!" The nurse recoiled, hurling your offspring onto the bed as if it were a viper.

"Easy! Easy!" You cried out. This was your child, your blood. And there was the little voice inside your head that whispered that Art wouldn’t die. No matter how many shots had been fired at him. No matter how many limbs had been cut off. The man still walked the earth, spreading death in silent joy wherever he went.

What if your child was the same? Already its heart wasn’t beating yet it seemed very much alive. Would throwing it away like its life meant nothing be the solution?

Adrenaline fueled your limbs, and with a grunt, you crawled toward the tiny form cast aside on the cold hospital linen. No. This was your baby too. No matter how evil, you would nurse it.

"Shh, shh," you soothed, half-mad with pain and wonder as your arms closed around the little body. Your hands trembled, cradling him close, the resemblance uncanny—Art's spawn, his legacy. Something soft dangled between the baby’s legs.

"Boy..." you whispered, the realization dawning upon you as you held him against your breast. The baby’s head instinctively sought for your nipple, his already long-grown teeth snapping as he sought.

The sight of his head filled you with terror, and you felt slightly sick to see the baby’s lack of lips and already blackened teeth. Bright eyes stared up at you, black circles around him. The first touch of his mouth to your skin was tentative, searching, before a sharp pain made you hiss. "No biting!"

He seemed to understand or perhaps heeded the command instilled in his dark lineage. You were grateful he started to suck next and didn’t bite your entire nipple off. You wouldn’t put it past him – not with what you had seen his father do and what you had read and heard in the news articles about him.

There amidst the blood and the shadows, you were bound to this child, this extension of a demon's desire, by cords thicker than fear, stronger than revulsion. In the silence that hung heavy, only your harsh breaths and the soft, wet suckling sounds filled the void.

Your arms ached, but you clung to him—the fruit of your womb and a monster's seed. The room spun slightly, the stark white tiles of the hospital room blurring as you focused on the tiny creature at your breast. His lips, so unlike a human’s and too far pulled back, painted in an unseen artist's black and white, suckled with an instinctual hunger.

"Sweetheart,” you tested the word, reassuring yourself that you could do this. That you had to use affectionate terms around him especially because he was the way he was.

A new plan formed in your mind.

If you could bring such true evil to the world, could you perhaps dampen it? You were pretty certain you could not undo it. You could not change a devil into an angel. But if you could not turn evil into good, could you perhaps guide it? Guide it away from harming innocents?

"You're mine," you murmured, studying the little baby in your arms. If not for the head, the child would have looked rather normal.

“My son,” you proudly said, testing the words whilst the nurses and doctors around you stood and watched. You heard their muttering and were vaguely aware of how one of the nurses had pushed an emergency button and alerted someone else in the building about what was going on.

Would they come and take your baby away from you? Would they want to try and murder him?

A fierce protectiveness was swelling within you. “I’ll protect you, sweetheart,” you reaffirmed, determination lacing the single word. “You are my son.”

Some of the nurses took a step back from the bloodied bed, their eyes still wide with disbelief. Behind them, the door burst open with a violence that made every eye swing toward it.

Art stood there, his silhouette like a twisted shadow from a child's nightmare. The nurse at the entrance reached for him. “Sir,” she said, eyes upon the garbage gab he carried over his shoulder. “These are sterile surroundings.” Her concern was cut short by the gleam of steel—a deft flick of Art's wrist—and she crumpled, a scream caught in her throat, blood blossoming on her uniform like a grotesque flower.

The doctor next to her cried out when a blade hit his legs, slashing through the clean white fabric until his shins bled. Another nurse to his side crumpled when Art passed her by, pushed over with blood on her pristine white clothes.

"Stop!" Your voice was a command, even as you recoiled. "Don't."

Art’s head cocked, you could tell he had heard your voice, but he didn’t listen. Whatever knife he had brought with him was launched to land in the middle of a nurse’s forehead, pinching her to the wall. He smiled broadly while he stepped up to the doctor’s tools to get a scalpel from them, obviously pleased with all the sharp things that were within his reach. He threatened to step forth to the Doctor who had already wounded legs and who had fallen to the floor. The man looked up at the demonic clown fearfully, tears in his eyes as Art raised the scalpel.

“Art, please,” you begged, “Don’t hurt them.”

It wasn’t your pleading that stopped him. But something else entirely. A low groan as finally, the afterbirth followed - a final, visceral release that marked the end of your gruesome trial.

His head cocked, the mime's unnerving silence punctuating the chaos he had wrought. He approached, eyes fixed on the bundle in your arms. Between your legs, the heap of blood and tissue drained the sheets. The baby’s umbilical cord was still attached to the placenta that had finally come out.

Art studied it. First, the writhing baby in your arms. He looked at it like he had never seen a newborn child before. He probably hadn’t, you thought. At least, not one of his own. The wonder was visible in those bright light eyes of his. The demonic toothy smile had turned into a black hole of wonder.

Then, the brightly shining eyes traced the umbilical cord and came to rest on the placenta. Something in his eyes changed, and he looked up at you, almost hungrily. His gaze softened then at the sight of his son again, and dirt-covered fingers reached out a few times, indicating he wanted to hold him but was too shy to grab the babe.

Your son’s eyes opened, recognizing his father. But he wouldn’t leave his meal. The teeth nibbled on your nipple while milk kept flowing richly, then bit down a little harder when you moved your arm – an indication that he did not want to be moved.

With a spidery grace, Art extended a hand, his fingers stretching toward his progeny. You tightened your grasp, feeling the peculiar warmth of your son against your flesh.

"Art," you began, voice quivering with a cocktail of fear and resolve. "He's feeding." You met those abyssal eyes, searching for understanding. "We need them alive—the nurses, the doctors. We might need their help..." Whatever could you say to keep him from killing these people? You raked your mind, thought desperately. And then it came out. Unbidden. "For next time."

A pause, and then a different kind of hunger flashed across his face. Another offspring? The idea hadn't crossed his twisted mind until you seeded it there. The possibility of creating more beings like this one, beings that belonged to both of you—it ignited something within him.

"Next time," you whispered, coaxing.

Art's attention shifted, drawn away by the glistening afterbirth on the bed. A grotesque curiosity morphed into action as he reached down, snatching it up with an eager hand. He snapped the umbilical cord with his teeth, igniting gasps throughout the room of the nurses and the doctor – all either petrified or too wounded to leave. You gave them all an empathic stare, a silent ‘I’m sorry’ while you watched as Art descended on his own meal.

The room filled with the sound of his silent feasting, a tableau of horror that paralyzed the surviving staff. They could only watch, too terrified to move, too horrified to look away.

"Good," you breathed, holding your son closer. "Focus on that. Let us be."

Surrounded by trembling bodies and the scent of iron and fear, you rocked gently, whispering promises into the velvet softness atop your son's head, promises of a world where he would never be alone—where he'd have a sibling to share the darkness with. And more importantly, a mother who would guide evil in ways that would save those she cared about. Herself included. ~ AN: This could be a full story, but I was lazy and only wrote the birthing scene. Might upload other parts that can go along with this as I have an outline. If you like my (gross) writing (style), consider following me or browse my masterlists (psst, there's more).

~~ Support me on Ko-Fi - Masterlist - Request Box ~~ The Full Tale: Art saw the pale girl, another of his kind, and realized that he wanted to be less lonely. Someone of his own kind, now that sounded nice. A kid of his own to play patty cake with? So he started looking for a potential carrier for his kid. You were cute, didn't run as hard, didn't make a sound when he tried to harm you. A quiet little human, about the size of the clown kid he had seen. You were perfect. Instead of killing you, he made sure you got pregnant. During the pregnancy, you kept seeing traces of him, found little gifts from the stranger who featured in your nightmares ever since.

You weren't stupid. You found out quite quickly that your clown is in fact the much sought-after murderer who comits the most horrible crimes under the name of Art. You have seen what he is capable of and dive into the archives researching him and his crimes. He seems to survive everything.

When the ultrasounds show you a distorted baby with no heartbeat, you know that you carry true evil inside of you. But getting rid of it is no option, as you can't kill what already seems to be dead. With no other fate, you have no option but to birth the monster's child. How you will handle things after, however, that is something you can influence. You will do anything in your power to survive. ~~

#art the clown x reader #art x reader #terrifier baby #terrifier fanfic #birthing horror fanfic

[daemontargaryenwhore]

This is so Satoru coded

#jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanart #jujutsu kaisen art #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #geto suguru #satosugu #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo #jujutsu gojo #jjk satoru #satoru #satosugu x reader #satorugojo #getou suguru x reader #geto x reader #jjk geto #suguru geto #geto #jjk suguru #sugusato #suguru #jujutsu kaisen suguru #jjk fanfiction #jjk art #jjk fanart

[nanami1chu]

Someone please write about Cursed Cat Alastor!!

He’s so ugly but funny looking at the same time it’s cute! I want him lmao ❤️

#alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor headcanons #alastor human #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #the radio demon #alastor hartfelt #hazbin art #cursed cat alastor

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

Okay so like fair warning- I've never seen a single Terrifier movie. Literally all I know is that he just kinda lurks at random stores/restaurants?? Maybe Reader, who works at a convenience store, recognizes him as a regular and asks him out? He's a silly, freaky looking dude. Maybe Reader is into that

I apologize if this is messy

You said you had no ideas and I wanted to help a lil

a/n: i've seen both terrifier movies and i'm still traumatised because art is a fucking psycho lol. but thank you so much for the idea i can't believe something like that never even crossed my mind so thank you <3

pairing: art x gn!reader

warnings: none

This was the third time this week. You struggled to contain your grin as you looked over to the clown standing behind the customer you were serving.

He'd been coming in several times over the weeks, only ever approaching the counter when you were serving. Although it was very unlikely anybody else would serve him anyway, considering he was a little creepy.

He'd meander around the store, stopping to inspect each shelf he passed, before giving an exaggerated shrug and moving on.

And then fifteen minutes later, he'd waltz up to the counter with the most random item in his hand.

You initially thought it must've been some kind of joke. He was literally dressed as a clown, it had to have been. But when he continued to come in, repeating the same thing everytime, it became apparent to you that it just couldn't have been a joke. Surely.

Once you were done serving the person in front of him, you released a small sigh as he shuffled up to the counter, this time only placing a bottle of water down in front of you, much to your surprise.

"You know it's not Halloween, right?" You asked him, not expecting a vocal response. From what you could tell, he didn't speak.

He just looked at you, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Alright, that'll be $1.50." You told him, earning another exaggerated facial expression that resembled shock.

To say he was rather odd, you did find him to be quite amusing. You watched in silence as he bent down to rummage through the black garbage bag he'd been carrying, eventually coming back up to place a handful of crumpled up money on the counter.

"So you got a name?" You asked as you put the money in the cash register, retreiving his change.

Again, he didn't speak, but he pulled out a small piece of paper, taking one of the pens from the side of the counter. And you watched as he messily scribbled something down on the paper, turning it in your direction.

"Art." You read out, nodding at the name. "Art The Clown."

A wide grin spread across his face as he nodded in confirmation.

"So, Art The Clown." You started, leaning over the counter slightly. "You wanna go out with me sometime?"

He stood there sort of frozen for a moment then, his eyes going wide and his mouth hanging open. Probably a minute passed before he moved, his fingers coming up to rub his chin as if in thought, before he finally gave you a small nod, a huge smile breaking across his face.

"Great." You smiled back, handing him his water. "I'd ask for a number, but I'm assuming you'll be back later this week so maybe we could set something up then?"

He nodded again before offering you a small wave as he made his way out of the store, leaving you with the knowledge that you'd just asked out a clown.

[Main Masterlist] [Art Masterlist]

#art the clown #art the clown terrifier #art the clown x reader #art x reader #art the clown fanfic #art the clown fanfiction #art the clown oneshot #art the clown imagine #terrifier #terrifier fanfic #terrifier fanfiction #terrifier art the clown #horror fanfic

[therainywriter]

Your Clown (Suggestive)

Pairing: Art the Clown x Reader

A hand was wrapped carefully around your throat, gently squeezing at the soft flesh. Your thoughts were foggy, eyes fluttering shut as his lips brushed against yours. A featherlight kiss.

You were in a dangerous situation, putting your life so willingly in the hands of someone as atrocious as him. But you didn’t care, not anymore. You’d had one taste, and that was all it took, you couldn’t get enough.

Your pulse thrummed at a lively pace against his bloody fingers, a rhythm of both fear and excitement.

His hand tightened at your hip, the one at your throat moving down to grab your waist and pull you down onto his thighs as he sat.

Art studied you, taking in your reactions like a breath of fresh air. You sat perched on his lap, looking at him with big, conflicted eyes.

He couldn’t help the nasty grin that spread across his face. You were so troubled by your own actions, yet you couldn’t find it within yourself to stop.

You took in a shuddery breath as he dug his nails into your hips, dragging them forward, pulling you closer.

You hands laid flat against the soft material of his costume. You didn’t miss the dried splatters of blood painted across it, the deep red tore your gaze from Art and you couldn’t help but draw in quicker breaths.

It was subtle, your little jolt of panic, but he drew you in again just as quickly as it came. His gloved hand trailed up your shirt, soothing over the soft flesh beneath his fingers.

You looked back to his dark eyes, lips slightly parting. He stared at you with an emotion you couldn’t quite name, nonetheless it sent a sick shiver through your body.

He rubbed at the crease of your spine, pulling his hand back with just enough pressure to feel your ribs, knowing just how easy it’d be for him to rip into you and feel those bones deeper, more personally.

You knew it too, you could practically see the violent thoughts stirring in his pupils. You whimpered when he yanked you forward again, your head fell to his shoulder and body pressed tightly against his.

You held your breath at the sudden proximity, liking it far more than you know you should. Your abdomen fluttered when his hand trailed down your body, eventually resting at your thigh.

You lifted your head, his face to the side of your own, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath.

Your heart halted its rapid beating when he tilted his neck to the side, softly pressing his lips against yours.

You couldn’t help the soft whine that escaped you as he licked along your bottom lip, sucking at the skin before sloppily kissing you again.

He soon grew rough with his kisses, hands gripping painfully tight onto your body. You wrapped your arms around his neck, lost in the heat of the moment, mouth eagerly seeking out his as he pulled back.

You craned your head up as he sat up straighter, slowly opening your eyes. He took in your flustered appearance, how he'd managed to work you up so easily.

You wanted more, you needed more- more of him. You gripped onto the loose fabric of his monochrome clown suit, "Please..." you begged.

His gaze darkened further and he leaned down, pressing his wet tongue flat against your pulse. He felt the blood rushing under your skin, the fervent beating of your heart.

He bit down against your neck, sucking, licking, tasting. Art had plans for you, oh so many plans. This was only the beginning.

#this was fun to write- #i hope you like it! #art the clown #art the clown x reader #art the clown x you #art x reader #terrifier #terrifier 2 #terrifier x reader #terrifier art the clown #suggestive #a bit spicy #the terrifier #x reader #my writing #rainywriter #slasher x reader #slasher

[slasherbish]

A cold night (Art the clown x GN reader)

warnings: blood, gore, art being art

Art had a fun filled night of torturing and killing people. The cold air was crisp and had the tang of iron in it. Just how he liked it. After a while of playing with the bodies and having a good silent laugh, Art decided to pull out the small pocket watch that a special someone had gotten him last Halloween. He looked at the time and frowned slightly. It was well past 2 am, the clown hadn’t meant to stay out that late and knew that his darling would be worried, and dinner would be cold. Their cooking was always pleasant after a long night of ghoulish fun. 

Tossing his tools of terror into his large black garbage bag he walked to the nearest exit. Waving goodbye to the dead bodies strewn about the room, Art tried to open the door. The monochrome clown frowned as it only opened a few inches before making a thud and stopping. It refused to open any further, at this point he decided to look down. There, at the foot of the door was the head of a victim still attached to it’s body. He rolled his eyes and silently huffed, kicking the limp body out of the way harshly. It angered him slightly that even in death the human was being a pain in his ass.

Meanwhile at the small house Art shared with his other half something terrible was happening. A knock was heard at the back door, (y/n) ran to the door excitedly hoping for it to be their favorite clown. Upon opening the door they saw no one. They raised a curious brow thinking that Art must be playing one of his pranks. “Art come on, it's too late and cold for pranks” They whined, stepping out onto the back patio, their bare feet uncomfortable from the icy cold ground. Shivering the person looked around, every second that passed filled them with more and more unease. Art wouldn’t have waited this long to pounce. Something wasn’t right. 

“Well well well good lookin’ “ A deep voice said from behind. Art’s favorite human spun around and started to scream. That blood curdling scream was cut off by the man stabbing them in the stomach. (Y/n) looked down at the sharp object lodged in their abdomen and then up at their assailant. The creep smiled a devilish smile at the pain he had inflicted. “You fucked up” Is all (y/n) sputtered out before dashing into the house. Knowing it was a horrible idea they took the knife from their abdomen and slashed at the man that was now giving chase. The knife slipped from their hand due to the amount of blood on the handle. The creep chuckled thinking that he had the upper hand. Art’s partner in crime grabbed at the counter they were leaning against and swung whatever they picked up. It was a meat tenderizer and it made contact with the intruder's head. There was a sickening thud and then “son of a bitch” before the man turned to run, it had freaked him out. His victim should’ve been dead by now, the strength of that hit wasn’t normal. This person wasn’t worth the literal headache. (Y/n)slumped to the floor, holding their wound as their vision started to go dark. ‘Art where are you’ was their last thought before the world went black.

Back with Art on his way home. He was smiling and walked at a leisurely pace. He wanted to get home but he was also feeling almost euphoric after the night he had. ‘Nothing can ruin this night’ He thought. The killer couldn’t wait to get home and tell his significant other every gory detail of the night. He had decided to take a small detour in order to scare the shit out of young kids. He tapped on at least four kids' windows to wake them before popping up and then silently laughing at the terrified kids' faces. He loved watching people be scared of him, except his (y/n) of course. 

Finally he could see the house. It didn’t surprise him that the light in the kitchen window was on. (Y/n) often left it on for him, it was a sweet little gesture that showed him they cared. He unlocked the shed that sit on the side of the house and put away his tools and garbage bag. Arts human had given him the shed to use for any “projects” he had and to store his torture tools. Humming silently he locked the shed door and skipped to the back door. He stopped in his tracks, the clowns blood ran cold upon seeing a bloody trail into their home. No smile could be found on the usually jovial clown's face. Art ran into the house following the trail until it stopped. There on the cold floor in front of him was a deep crimson puddle of blood, and in the middle of it sat the limp body of (y/n). For the first time he was scared, his jaw fell open in shock. Were they dead? He thought, kneeling down to his lovers body. ‘No they’re breathing. Not dead’ ran through his head as he looked at their chest. 

The clown didn’t know much about medical stuff but he had watched his human tend to wounds on him many times. After some time he had cleaned, stitched, and wrapped every wound. His pale hand held theirs hoping beyond hope that they would open their eyes. What he wouldn’t give to see those (e/c) eyes look up at him once more. His blood was both boiling due to whoever dared hurt his partner but also felt like ice at the fear of losing the one person that accepted him as he was. 

(e/c) eyes fluttered open, the first thing they saw was a frowning clown deep in thought. “Hey there killer” they had croaked out. The smile that appeared on the clowns face was the largest he’d ever smiled. He dragged (y/n) into a bear hug only letting go when they squeaked in pain. “He got away. I’m sorry but I did hit him in the head with the mallet.” 

His eyes widened a little hoping for more information. “There’s blood on it.” (y/n) said knowing he could track the intruder with that. He gave a look that said ‘Can I go after them’ and of course they replied with a smile and “Go have fun. I’ll be okay now” with that Art had grabbed the mallet and sprinted out the door. He was going to make the man pay in unimaginable ways. 

It didn’t take long for the black and white clown to hunt down his target. He stood smiling at the large man. The creep spit on the ground rubbing his aching head. “What the fuck you lookin at clown bitch?” He yelled. Art held up the mallet with the targets blood on it. He laughed, “Was that your kill? Too fuckin bad” That made the clowns face contort into a snarl. “Oh that was your bitch! Ha what a lousy bitch.” That was the wrong thing to say. Before the man had time to say oops the killer clown had broken his knees with the mallet. Silently Art laughed at the look of shock and pain on the monsters face. He continued to fit and kick the man over and over for at least an hour until the man was nothing but a bloody pulp. Art doubted that anyone could identify the man who hurt his partner without a DNA match. 

Art made his way home again, this time his smile would stay. He carried (y/n) up to their shared room and tucked them into bed. They smiled and chuckled at Art pantomiming his way through what he had done that night. (Y/n) loved watching the clown tell them about his day. The pain had dulled with the help of hospital grade painkillers that they had stolen a while back. Once Art had told them everything, he went to shower and change into a footed onesie that (y/n) had custom made to look a lot like his clown suit. He hopped into bed and held his human. He had a twinge of fear in the pit of his stomach that something like this could happen again. They noticed the small look of fear that had crept into his eyes. “Hey it’s okay. I’ll be more cautious next time. Maybe we could come up with a special knock” They reassured him. His eyes calmed and he snuggled closer if possible. “I love you Art” (y/n) said before the two drifted off to sleep. 

Post credit scene lol 

Art did not clean up any blood in the house. That clown left it all for you to clean up once you could. When you did finally make your way down a few days later you groaned loudly at the mess. Art smiled at you sheepishly. 

#slasher x reader #art the clown x you #art x reader #arttheclown #art the clown #pain #death #horror #slasher x y/n #slasher x gn reader #slasher #slasher simp #terrifier x reader #terrifier #terrifier movie #clowns #I love art the clown #x reader #x y/n #slashers #xreader #x gn reader #gn y/n #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #fanfics #blood #gore