Gnawing At The Bars Of My Enclosure Rn :3

gnawing at the bars of my enclosure rn :3

I think about Ghostface Art and Patrick way too often (they are literally Billy and Stu).

Second attempt, finally. Tagging those who asked: @frnchgirls @vendetta-ari

TW: dubcon

Late October, a Halloween party, and somehow the two are not once seen together.

You're at somebody's house, a bunch of sticky, smelly teenagers surrounding the whole place. Alcohol is being passed around in red cups, people taking pictures in their costumes. And you're in the middle of the crowd, carefully watched by two pairs of eyes.

First, Patrick pulls you towards the dancefloor, the middle of the living room. Some boring pop music is playing in the background, but you don't care for how mainstream it sounds. Not when Patrick's body is pressed flush against yours and his big palms are groping your ass.

"You're so sexy tonight," he mumbles, lips finding their way to your ear. He licks a stripe up your jaw, teeth tugging onto your earlobe. "This fucking costume."

He's whispering naughty words in your ear, your costume is making it really hard for him to control himself. The tight fucking skirt, hugging your ass, and even tighter fucking top. Your tits are almost spilling out but you remain oblivious to being such a slut, far too gone to even adjust your clothing. Patrick almost wishes take tail hanging off of your ass was real and he could tug on it to draw a gasp from your mouth.

His boner is pressing against your crotch, getting you all worked up and hungry for something more. And his lips curve into a smirk when he manages to get you even tipsier (his annoying "just one more cup!" being the only reason why you won't stop drinking) and soon, he disappears.

You're in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with another red plastic cup resting on your lower lip, body lazily moving almost automatically to the beat of the music in the background. Soon, a familiar mop of blonde hair approaches.

"Hey kitten, enjoying yourself?" Art's arm wraps around your waist, lips pressing against the top of your head where the two fake ears stand up from your hair.

He lets your tipsy self lean against his own body, caressing your butt soothingly and loving the way you're all pliant and far too gone. You look a bit messy, quite a lot, actually, but he couldn't care less.

His presence is warm and soothing, a slight contrast to the drunk teenagers everywhere around you. Noticing the way your face scrunches uncomfortably at the loud laughter, he grabs your hand and beckons you to follow. You do, like an obedient little kitten.

You almost crawl up the stairs after Art, following him to one of the bedrooms, luckily an empty one. It's much calmer up there, gone from the high pitched pop music and annoying drunkards. When you, not holding back at all, lean in to kiss Art, he stops you and tells you to wait for a while. So you do, again, like a good girl.

Your feet carry you to a mirror where you take a small glance at your own self. Your clothes are all wrinkled, skirt pushed up (probably Patrick's fault) and the neckline of your top pulled too low so your red lace bra could be seen by anybody. What once was your lipstick is a mess, hair tangled and pupils blown wide. So sexy.

Too lost in the sight of yourself, you almost don't hear the world opening. Only when a tall figure, swallowed in a dark, flowy cloak shows up behind you, towering over your own reflection. Spinning around, you're met with a prolonged white mask, painted with a horrifying expression of something nightmarish. But you drunk self is incapable of feeling spooked.

You only snicker, stepping closer, feet dragging across the floor. "Art?"

But the person remains silent, just staring down at you through the mask. Completely motionless, dark eyes glued to your face.

"Patrick?" you try with another guess but, again, no response.

Only when the figure draws a knife, definitely not a plastic looking one, you gasp, swaying on your feet. Staggering backwards, as the figure being approaching you, you eventually land on the bed with nowhere to run. You hold your breath, cold shiver running down your spine as the figure traces a line down your jaw, tilting your chin up with the tip of the cold knife.

The masked stranger still doesn't speak, not even when he lowers himself down onto you, caging you under himself on the bed. Only his heavy breath could be heard, but you can never feel it hit your face through the mask, and you almost wish you could. You wish to know who this stranger is. Or perhaps not. Perhaps just to feel him.

As if he could sense the excitement spiraling around in your head, he slides one gloved hand under the tightness of your skirt that has already bunched up as the result of your slurred movement. Complete silence, only disturbed by a wet squelch and a gasp from your lips, brings a smile (not that you can see it) on his face.

"Slut."

Unfortunately, that single word only gets your pussy wetter.

You don't even care for the knife still resting under your chin, threatening to cut you pale skin with any wrong movement when the cold leather of his glove fully slides through your slick folds. It's cold and slightly harsh, enough to draw one more sigh from your mouth, and yet you become used to that sensation way too quickly.

Hypnotized by the screaming expression of the mask, you allow yourself to fully drop down, tangled curls spreading around your head like a halo, your eyes wider than possible. The still unknown man teases your clit with his fingers, smirking upon discovering it seems to have his own heartbeat, and it's beating just for him.

"Dirty girl? That's what you like?"

Before you could process it, you're flipped onto your stomach, and with the help of his two strong hands, you're pulled into something close to a kneeling position. Panties pulled down and skirt pushed up, your glistening cunt is on full display for the frightening creature.

He's touching you, groping your ass, rubbing your clit and sliding his fingers in and out of your weeping cunt, doing everything he shouldn't be doing, everything that shouldn't be allowed and yet here you are, unable to push him away, whimpering like a hungry whore. You're moaning, just stupid babbles that he doesn't pay any attention to, and you don't even know whose name to say, who to beg.

Your aching hips are rolling against the leather and at one point, you ride the strangers finger as if it was a dick, the muscles of your warm cunt squeezing him like a sweet treat. Completely stripping yourself of any dignity, of any self worth, you let this total stranger finger fuck you on somebody's bed, unaware where your two best friends have disappeared. You don't even think to look for them, to yell and beg for their presence, for being saver. All you beg for is being treated like the slut that you are.

By now, all the thoughts of the party have evaporated, tears of pleasure spilling out of your burning eyes, mixing with the mascara running down your cheeks. Your lipstick is wiped all over the sheets and your fucking tits are spilling out of that tiny top. You look like a goddamn mess and yet so fucking beautiful for the horny stranger.

And when you finally feel like it was enough, that knot in your stomach tight enough to unravel, everything stops. His hand retreats, leaving you hot and bothered, at the brink of an orgasm.

When you try to inch your hips closer, seeking the friction, the cold metal between your legs stops you. "Uh-huh."

You gasp, fingers digging into the sheets, frozen in your movement. Suddenly, you're as stiff as a statue, not daring to move a muscle when the cold, sharp blade rests against your dripping folds.

"Careful," the masked man whispers, his free hand palming the back of your head, pushing your head deeper into the pillow. You feel the cotton cloak fall over your own bare body as he leans over you, his chest warm against your arched back. "That's not so nice now, huh?"

Realising he really expected an answer from you, you shake your head. But the slide of the blade forward, the cold tip resting just against the puffy muscle of your clit gets your body to jerk. "N-no."

The man above you chuckles, his voice still too muffled by the mask for you to make out who he really is. "Sluts don't get to cum. They don't get to enjoy it, baby."

He twists the knife, coating the sharpness with your wetness, the cool sensation against your burning clit being almost enough to bring you to an orgasm. And he notices, chuckling at your desperation.

"But you don't need to enjoy it, right? You just need to cum, don't you?"

And just as fast as it has begun, it suddenly ends, with the big body pulling away from yours, leaving you a panting, sweaty, overwhelmed mess on the bed. He strokes your face once with the leather, spreading a bit of your own arousal over your cheek, adding to your miserable state. And then he's on his feet, hiding the knife (and very much delighted by earning the slicky souvenir) in his pocket, sparing you one last sorry glance.

"Maybe this will teach you a lesson, remind you not to be such a slut."

BROO I need need neeeed Artrick x reader meeting eachothers parents I feel like it would he such a shitshow 😭🙏

-🎶

Meeting Art's grandma 🥹🥹🥹 she knows Patrick and already calls him his curly friend, and then when she sees you, she instantly falls in love. Immediately begins showing you pictures of baby Art while the blonde is just blushing, telling you not to look, that he looks like an idiot in most of the photos. He wants to kill himself when Patrick points out one particular picture of baby Artie in a bathtub with a cute soap foam crown on his head. You have to admit it's adorable and you tease Art about it for the rest of the day.

Patrick's parents are a bit harder to please, at least you are feeling slightly awkward meeting them for the first time, dressed in the fanciest of your dresses. Again, they already know Art, so they assume you must be a good girl when they both like you. Patrick's father is a bit rough on you, making you feel like you're under an x-ray, as if he's just waiting for you to prove them how wrong of a choice you were for the boys. But his mother eventually warms up to you and compliments your dress as well.

If you were afraid of meeting the boys' parents, then they are absolutely desperate and frightened of meeting yours. Shaving thoroughly, combing their hair and picking the most representative of their shirts, they show up at your place with two bouquets of roses, one for you, the other one for your mom. They're at their best behaviour, genuinely, both of them calling your mom Mrs L/N even if she allowed them to call her by her first name. They don't even dare address your dad at all. He looks scary to them. But your dad actually likes the boys, he likes Art more, because the blonde appears more scared in his eyes and he gets a good laugh from teasing him. Surprisingly, him and Patrick click during dinner, now both of them making fun of Art and you have to hold his hand under the table while he blushes. It seems as either of your parents have chosen their favourite boy when Art helps your mom wash the dishes and Patrick sits in the living room with your dad, watching a football match on the TV and yelling at a particular player that messed up a seemingly clean shot.

Overall, all three meetings went better than all three of you have expected.

pairing : artrick x reader

warnings : mentions of sexual toys, patrick being mean (just for a sec), flirting.

hear me out,, sexshop workers art and patrick. except, they are together and pat convinced art to get a job there, so they can get each other off and fuck whenever the shop isn’t as busy.

so what happened when one time, you didn’t see the closed sign on the door during one of their “breaks”, and you walked in. the place was noisy, vibrators turned on, but it seemed to be more than that. you moved around and there was nobody there. you almost went to walk out BUT right before you were out of earshot, you heard what sounded like wood hitting a wall, repeatedly.

“hello?” you called out softly, and the sound immediately stopped. “fuck you, pat. i told you it was a bad idea!” you heard someone curse under their breath, before the door that said “staff only” opened and revealed two guys, their faces flushed and you could swear that you saw one of them tucking it in last minute.

they eyed you for a moment, and the blonde one went to speak, but was cut off before he could say anything. “didn’t you see the fucking sign that says closed?! you just walk in like it’s your damn house and-” “patrick, shut up!”

the aforementioned boy turned to you once again, eyes wide and a look of embarrassment on his face, because you just had to have heard them. “i’m so sorry about my colleague. what are you looking for today?” he smiled politely and you realise that you forgot what you were, in fact, looking for.

“my colleague” the other one, patrick, said under his breath, rolling his eyes as he followed you and art around the store.

“i’m just looking for an… egg, i think that is? it’s on my best friend’s birthday wishlist and i’m pretty sure it’s not about a normal egg” you rambled, fiddling with your fingers, because never have you ever thought that you’d actually go into a sexshop, and even worse, that two hot guys would have to check you out.

art gave you a tight-lipped smile and turned his back to you, seemingly looking for said egg. god, is it embarrassing. “excuse me for a minute, i have to look in the back room.”

and just like that, you were left with patrick for a good two minutes, and the smug smile he was giving you did nothing to soothe your nerves. you had a feeling that wasn’t what he meant to do anyway. “so, never been in a sexshop before?”

you sighed, there we go. “what gave it away?” you tried to smile at him, ignoring your nerves and the way your palms were sweating just from looking at him.

“eh, just figured” he responded nonchalantly, the smirk still present on his face. he made a quick turn, now fully facing you and your eyes widened slightly. “what do you think about my colleague?”

“s-sorry?” you responded, startled by his directness. but he didn’t say anything, just arched his brow at you. “he is pretty” you cleared your throat, looking anywhere but at him.

patrick grinned widely, his blue eyes analysing every inch of you. “just pretty?” he pouted. that fucker. “i think he’d have many more things to say about you. i saw they way you looked at each other.”

“oh, it’s not that. i mean, i look at you just the same, so it’s not-” you sighed, now you really were fucked, “i heard you guys, back there. i don’t want you to think that i like your boyfriend or colleague or-”

“you talk so fuckin’ much.. it’s cute” he nodded to himself and your face instantly reddened. this guy was trying to fuck with your head. he leaned in when he heard the door open, art’s footsteps closer and closer. “you gotta know though, these things are magic” he pointed toward the vibrators, specifically at a large purple one. “me and my boyfriend can help you pick one out the next time you come.”

patrick quickly retreated and you turned, startled, to see art holding several of what seemed to be eggs in his hands, all different colours and shapes. “hey, you have any idea what size would your friend be fond of?”

he was so fucking cute.

this sounds very depraved but I wanna suck on both Art and Patrick so bad :( its unfunny atp

Their two dicks completely filling your mouth, making it hard to get even past their tips, vigorously rubbing together as you attempt to open your mouth wider and wider to take more of them. Your cheeks are fucking stuffed and you look like you're about to burst.

Patrick can't resist it, reaching to trace your lips, finger running over his own and Art's dick, discovering that you're really unable to take them further.

"Look at that. She's fucking stuffed."

Just for the laughs, he buckles his hips forward to push his cock further. The tip hits the back of your throat and you gag, eyes widening in surprise.

"Idiot," Art curses, and doesn't bother hiding back a moan, but gently cups your face, stroking your full cheek. They're rock hard in your mouth, stuffing you like a turkey. "Just take it slow baby, this is more than enough."

"It's not enough and you know that," Patrick protests, and he's right. You can barely close your lips around their two tips, tears glowing in your eyes.

The sight is adorable, a bit sorry too, but neither of the boys is worried. This is your first time doing something like this, something so huge and hard, and it's obvious you're not fully in your element. But that's okay, they're gonna help you. Nice and slow.

"I heard people are shipping us" "to where?"

OKAY, just aw that you’re okay with the bot request and I was thinking of a dilf art too? i onow you don’t really make art ones but it’s just an idea and then my other thought is making one with dilf patrick and dilf art.. idk what my obsession with them being dilfs is…

Since you've all been very good, I decided to give you a little double dilf situation ;))))) -> there you go.