#clown writes

[doeidawn]

18+ MDNI

simon has told you countless times before that civilian life is tough for him. every time he comes back home from deployment, there's a tension in him that's hard to soothe. as rough as military life was, it gave him a purpose, made him feel like everything he did—down to the food he ate—was for something. it's not like that back home.

he doesn't like to sit around and do nothing all day. and you've told him that he owes it to himself to relax, to just sit down and enjoy the mundane. that's what being home is for, you'd remind him. but it's hard for him.

you've found it's a little easier for him to relax if you're doing it with him. so you'll invite him to watch whatever you've got on the tv, or ask if he wants to take a midday nap together. it gradually gets easier over time. he resists less each time you ask.

but you don't fail to notice how much he fidgets, like his very being is uncomfortable with sitting still unless it's for work. he's always moving somehow, fingers itching to do something.

the solution he came up with? he's got his hands on you whenever possible. it's easiest to relax when you're moaning in his ear.

even now, when there's a movie playing on the tv in front of you, simon has you sat on his lap with your legs spread in front of the screen. his head rests in the crook of your neck, peppering kisses on your jaw, and he's still able to keep his eyes on the screen so you don't scold him about 'not paying attention' later.

of course, it's not like you're paying attention either. hard to when he's got two of his thick fingers knuckle-deep inside your slick cunt. he pumps in and out at a steady pace that has your toes curling and your head falling back against his shoulder. the wet squelches that sound out every time he pushes in and curls his fingers is more enticing than the people on the screen, anyway.

"gotta take care of my girl," he'd coo in your ear. his fingers slide out and up to your swollen clit. he presses gentle circles around it before patting your sensitive skin with just enough force to make you squirm. "and gotta make sure she's gettin' enough attention, too, huh?"

right now, his only focus was on making you cum hard. he knew that angle to take to make sure his fingers hit deep inside, making your back arch off of his chest. your slick walls hugging and pulsing around his thick digits until you're squeezing tight and flooding his hand with your cum.

"that's it, baby," he groans, panting with you like he'd cum in his pants from just the sight of you. his fingers spread you open, sliding through the obscene slickness. "such a pretty fuckin' sight."

regardless how much you mewl and moan and whine, he doesn't stop until you're shaking, until you can't give him any more. but when that happens, he moves his hands off of you, letting you get comfortable so you can doze off with your head in his chest while he rubs your back in soothing strokes.

[theclownbehindtheslaughter]

vox's sleeping habits/positions

RIGHT. SO.

box!vox probably slept semi-normally at first (but with the aid of a specialized pillow for his neck), seeing as TVs didn't have vents like we do today; so he slept just fine on his side or back (but sleeping on his stomach was a no-go, because while the pillow pressing on his throat wouldn't be much of a problem due to the vent/gills on his torso, he still had curved glass)

then when he got up the 80s VCR TVs (which gained obvious vents on the sides) he probably could only (comfortably) sleep on his back, because the vents were on the side of a TV more often then naught, and he still had curved glass on his head.

with the wonderful FLAT SCREEN TECHNOLOGY, at first it would've been similar to his 80s/90s boxheads, because flatscreen TV doesn't equal the casing, but just the glass (there were flatscreens in the late 60s, but were expensive to produce if you wanted to have okay graphics similar to that of curved glass if i remember correctly, so it was shelved for wide-spread use for a couple decades) would be flat (and the casing a little longer width-wise and thinner depth-wise),

^ like this

So now he could sleep on his front and back, but then as flatscreens quickly become more and more modern, his vents would move to the back (because no space on the side),

and that leaves me with the assumption that Vox has to sleep on his stomach. i don't know what good this post has done anyone by having me yap about the correlation of development and refinement of TV ventilation systems and location of such things would affect what position Vox sleeps in, but here you go!

i know... so much. ask me anything at all about TVs and Vox and i can somehow make a correlation. please, i would actually love that. please stick your hands into the bars of my enclosu-

[clownwrites]

Johnshi NSFT

Warnings: TopKen/SubJohn;Rowdy Mime Fuckin; PwP

Johnny makes fun of Kenshi having a "clown fetish" that he doesn't actually have. Kenshi decides to agree to shut him up.

Sento laid across Johnny's dresser, glowing vibrantly against the warm lighting of the room. In the mirror behind it, reflected a creaking bed of passion, towels that were laid to protect fine linens strewn into tangled rags under them from the very enthusiastic and abrasive thrusting from Kenshi. He didn't wear his mask, eyes a glow and smoking vibrantly, his lover trapped below his onslaught of arousal. Johnny was bent beneath him, whining into pillow cases, tossing care out the door for the dignity of his sheets now stained in black and white face paint. Specifically grease paint, that melted from his face and neck, his striped clothes barely covering him. Comically short overalls scrunched into the bend of one leg and his striped shirt tangled around his neck, his hand gripping the collar where he failed to take it off fast enough to soothe Kenshi's vengeful arousal.

How they got here doesn't really matter, say for Johnny ruthlessly teasing the swordsman about an interest in clowns, something Kenshi vehemently denied up until Johnny had decided it would be funny to set up some kind of anniversary gift around a mime theme to mock him. Nah. What mattered now was how Johnny whined and cried at the painful, open handed slap across his ass. His dick jumped and he mewled at the reward of his once humiliated lover, slamming the head of his cock into the Star's prostate, slipping past it just slightly before pulling back and repeating the bruising cycle.

"Oh- oh god, please!" Johnny cried, legs shaking. where one hand was trapped in the tangle of his costume, the other arm was sore beneath him, where he supported the arch in his back. Johnny's dick was left with nothing in attention, dribbling uselessly into the muddied makeup staining the sheets beneath them. Kenshi knew this and reveled in the feeling of his partner's palpable desperation, the gross viscosity of precum and lube that turned on once cool friction into the squelching rhythm of his hips meeting Johnny's red ass.

"Kenshi, Kenshi-!" Johnny begged with nothing to barter with. Frustrated, the swordsman snaked his hand around Johnny's throat, his palm firmly pressing against the man's adam's apple, choking the cries of his lover when Ken pulled the entertainment back into his chest and forced him to look in the mirror of his dresser, Where sento glowed enthusiastically and his smoking eyes eerily trailed in the same aesthetics.

Johnny saw through the near blindness of his melted face paint, the black and white kiss marks he'd left on Kenshi's jaw and chest, he saw the lust in the smoke of his lovers' sockets and gulped anticipating some amazing finish to this rather cruel show. "Ugh, shit" Johnny shuddered, humiliated in the light of his attire and how it was being used "fucking christ, Kenshi!" The swordsman chortled, pulling the star's head back into his shoulder and licking the paint off the pulse point of Johnny's neck, when the tip of his tongue reached his ear, Kenshi smacked his mouth closed and swallowed the paint he'd cleaned off. Quickly, Kenshi stilled Johnny's lips before it could shudder out more cries, aggressively palming his mouth and smearing whatever makeup was left there.

"You know…-" Kenshi shushes, his breath terribly cold against the wet shell of Johnny's ear "-Mimes don't make any noise, I'm afraid we're gonna have to redo this scene, Johnny." Despite his wide eyed chagrin, Johnny's legs shook and his cock poured molten arousal at the rumbling sound of his lover's voice against his back.

"Take two?" Kenshi asked again, showing a brief softness in their play, Johnny shaking his head feverishly, gulping the uttered noises of approval before he was slammed back into his mattress. The hand that gripped his mouth, now dug through his hair and painfully grasped him at the scalp.

"Really know how to give a man a good time, Johnny boy!" Kenshi nearly laughed, his hips slamming back into his lover, who yelped at the sensation of Kenshi's sharp hips meeting his ass again.

"next time I see your circus make sure to bring a few more party tricks, you know I love a good laugh."

[bookof-xreaders]

Could you do berdly x autistic!reader headcanons? plz 🥺

mod clown lore: there is a good chance that i am autistic. who knows for sure, though. certainly not me! anywhosies, enjoy!

---

berdly x autistic! reader

i mention this is pretty much everything i write about him, but i hold the firm belief that he'll defend you to the ends of the earth.

berdly defending you would likely be him arguing with someone and refusing to give up until the person harassing you just got too annoyed and left.

he's your knight in glow-in-the-dark armour forever <3

berdly will help you get any accommodations that you need at school for sure-- he's definitely not afraid to talk to the staff.

you guys could spend hours infodumping to each other about special interests.

especially dragon blazers, if you enjoy the series too. there would be discussions until 3am about theories the two of you have and lore that no one else cares about.

he always keeps a few stim toys in his backpack because they help him stay focused during class, and he's happy to share with you.

he would probably gift one to you at some point

i feel like it would be this one. fun fidget toy and also looks like a game controller? it's perfect!!

if you are non-verbal or semi-verbal, berdly would try to be your voice and make sure your opinions are heard-- "they asked for no pickles" but to the extreme.

be careful, though. he might get a little over-excited and end up drowning you out completely. he's trying his best.

the two of you would also enjoy parallel play and support swapping-- doing different things but still doing them together, and helping each other

if you need tone tags, berdly would make sure to use them. both in text and face-to-face conversations.

all-in-all, berdly would be very supportive, and would love you no matter what (as long as you're a gamer /j)!

[fruit-punch-clown]

As Imperceptibly As Greif

               Yuta was dead. Takemichi knew all too well. They couldn’t find him anywhere, they found his jacket by the bridge and they had spoken to those girls. His boyfriend was dead, and he did nothing to stop it. Takemichi couldn’t stand going to Yuta’s funeral. He couldn’t bear to go there and look his parents and sister in the eyes and tell them that their son was gay, and he didn’t tell them out of fear of what they would do to him, if anything. Yet he did. He sat in the back row with Takaaki. The former cop had only come to the funeral to comfort Takemichi and offer support to the relatives. All the survivors from Hops Peak were there too to comfort Aoi. Takemichi couldn’t bear to talk to her. She didn’t know who he was. She wanted her brother, but she would never see him again because of the selfishness of others. Takemichi didn’t speak to the family and left when he felt he had overstayed his welcome. He shouldn’t feel like this. Yuta loved him as his friend and partner, Takemichi should be able to keep himself together and interact with the people that just lost a son. He went to hide in Takaaki’s car after an hour because he couldn’t do it anymore. 

It wasn’t the first time Takemichi had lost someone. His mom, Daiya, Mondo at a stretch when he left, and Mondo again from the killing game. Yuta was all he had when they had met back up in Towa after escaping confinement in the apartments. They acted like a couple on their honeymoon for those first few days. Hugging, kissing, cuddling, saying ‘I love you’. Takemichi loved this man. Until one day, Yuta vanished, without even a note. Yuta wouldn’t leave him just like that. He would have told him, warned him that he would be alone from now on. But nothing. Yuta left without a trace, leaving all his stuff behind. It would be a while before Takemichi ventured beyond their den, leaving his life behind in search of a way out. Eventually he would come across Takaaki and the two would be saved by Future Foundation a few weeks later. Takemichi would lose his arm and Takaaki would lose his eye and be stuck with a scar going across the left of his face. They were damaged, but they had each other. A found, father-son duo. It was only with Future Foundation did he find out about Yuta. He screamed, he cried but nothing he did would ever bring him back. He broke down and had no one to comfort him in his grief. 

It took him a while to stop staying in his room after the funeral. He had reason to live anymore. Mondo and Yuta were his world, but now, it had been reduced to a lifeless crater on the dark edge of his slanted universe. He only lived this long for Takaaki, a man who had been absorbed in the loss of his own son and husband. Mondo and Yuta weren't like that. To anyone else, Mondo and Yuta were Takemichi’s friends. Mondo was his boss, his friend, his brother. Yuta was nothing other than the man he loved. And now they were gone and he wasn’t getting either of them back. Not now, not ever. Takaaki had tried to help him with his loss. Comforting him with hugs and talks, but Takemichi knew Takaaki was dealing with his own hurt, so would avoid him to let him grieve without his interference. Most saw Takemichi as impertinent when he would deny help, but no one could help him with how he felt. Those survivors like Makoto, Kyoko, Byakuya and Yasihiro didn’t know what real loss was like. They didn’t know how to aid him, nothing they could do would ever make him better. He did, however, feel extremely sorry for Aoi. The girl had lost her brother and parents, much like he had. Like him, she felt like she had no one. They were quite simu;ar in that way.

It was many weeks after the funeral that Take ichi had finally spoken to Aoi. Takemichi just so happened to be craving coffee early in the morning and ran into Aoi at the coffee maker. He could see the signs of grief. Sunken in eyes, they were also red and puffy with a clear wetness, accompanying deep eye bags and smeared eyeliner that she had been wearing at the funeral. She clearly hadn’t showered this whole time. He couldn’t blame her, Takaaki had to wrestle him into the shower a few days ago. Her expression was blank when he walked in, she had no more tears to shed, no way left to express her sadness and anger at the situation. Takemichi could feel it.He didn’t speak to her right away, adding an extreme awkwardness as he attempted to reach the coffee on the top shelf of the open cupboard. She gave him a small forced smile as she grabbed the jar for him. He had to talk to her, to know how she would react to his secret about Yuta. She looked at his face, seeing the similarities it had with her own. “How did you know him?” She asked, her voice was shaky as she spoke.  “We dated. I’m sorry he never told you. He didn’t know how your parents would have reacted.” He said as honestly as possible. “They wouldn’t have supported him. They never supported me and….” “Yeah. You don’t have to talk about it if it brings back bad shit. I get it. Me and… Mon.. we didn’t bring up Daiya for weeks after we lost him.”

“I see. Oowada didn’t seem very… happy when he was brought up. Same with you really.” “I reminded him of Daiya too much. I lost my leg in that accident. Mon spent so much time tryin’ to make it up to me.”

“Did he ever?” “Him finding me and staying in the hospital with me for weeks was all I needed.” Aoi thought of that for a good few seconds before saying. “Does it get better? Will I get over it soon? I hate this, I hate everything about it. I WANT MY BROTHER BACK!!!!!” She sobbed, covering her face with her sleeves. Takemichi panicked and threw his arms around her. She hugged him back and sobbed into his hair as he told her that it would be ok. She cried to him for a good few minutes until calming down and pulling away. The two sat down together and he told her how it was.

“You’ll always miss him. You’ll never get over it. You need to learn to accept what happened. It’s never easy. But… we can get there. Can you accept that?” Aoi nodded, never meeting her eyes with his. They had a lot of work to do to get to that point. But they would never stop trying. 

They feel like their time was stolen, but at least they could fill that stolen time with each other. They feel as if something is pushing them to the side of their own lives. Like the imperceptibility of their grief. They learn to accept with time.

[empurean]

❀ — cockwarming arthur morgan as a way to be intimate without drawing any attention to yourselves in camp <3; f!reader, nsfw 18+ (MDNI)

The sewing needle pricks the tip of your finger as you pull it through the shirt in your hand and tighten the stitch. There’s a soft breeze that moves through the air, rustling the leaves and carrying the sound of chirping birds into the camp. It was still early in the day, and Horseshoe Overlook had yet to wake.

You found yourself situated in the outskirts of the camp, far enough to feel separated from both the real world and the safe circle of outlaws you rode with. Privacy wasn’t a luxury that the gang was afforded without venturing into civilization or risking a trip alone into the unfamiliar wilderness. You didn’t mind the closeness most of the time, it felt more secure knowing everyone was within arm’s reach. That is, until you and Arthur started fooling around. 

The thin canvas of his tent didn’t provide much in the way of privacy when every sound could be heard from the outside. As much as you loved him, and as much as he loved getting his hands on you, neither of you wanted to face the gang after a night of crying out his name, and you figured following him into Valentine multiple times a week and wasting money on a hotel room would only create a stir.

But Arthur, the ever-creative man he was, had devised a solution. He woke you up early, before the sun had fully risen in the sky and everyone else had yet to stir. Told you to grab something to occupy yourself with and then took you into the southern side of camp where the forest grew dense. He didn’t stray too far; the girls’ wagon was still within view from where he’d decided to sit and rest against one of the trees.

It didn’t take much convincing to get you down in his lap. What started as a serene rest with heavy eyes and your head on his chest had ended with sloppy kisses and wandering hands. Maybe you were still too groggy to remember, but somehow he had managed to get your drawers off and was already working on the front of his pants, opening them just enough to fish his cock out.

Arthur would groan when the cool, early morning air hits his heated flesh. He’d give you no time to think before he’s hiking your skirt up enough to snake his hands underneath and knead at the skin of your thighs and hips.

“Lift your hips a bit for me, baby,” Arthur’s voice is a soft growl, coaxing your body gently with a strong hand on your hip. His muscles would tense, his grip tightening on your body, when he brushes against the hot, wet mess between your legs. “There she is…”

Despite the distance put between you two and the camp, you still had to be wary about making too much noise when you sank onto him. The stretch burned deliciously, your slick walls hugging and pulsing around every inch of his thick cock. Biting your lip almost wasn’t enough, and Arthur was doing a poor job of containing his own wanton breaths.

“Shh, that’s it,” he’d coo in your ear, whispering as if it’d convince you to quiet down. Calloused fingers run up and down your thighs, kneading the swell of your ass, until you’re fully seated. “Stay right like that for me.”

Though you were annoyed at first, whining how unfair it was to get you riled up without really doing anything about it, you soon relaxed into his touch. You weren’t sure how long you were sat there, but it felt nice to just be with him, to feel him.

You’d taken out your latest sewing project after a while, patching an old shirt that you’d been toting around. Arthur had settled for wiping down the revolver in his holster. It was inconspicuous enough not to catch the attention of the members of camp that had started to awaken and populate the main clearing.

It wasn’t a perfect plan, though. The slightest of movements had both of you choking on air, looking to the other to see if the friction was deliberate. A flutter of your walls had him grunting in surprise and gripping your thigh. You got a kick out of it, even if he’d return the favor by bucking his hips and spearing his cock deeper under the innocent guise of adjusting his leg. 

It was a struggle not to whine or lift your hips only to settle back into his lap. But it would draw attention, and the whole point was just to be close. As close as possible. Intimacy was sparse in such a tight-knit group of people. And yet, the two of you made it work. 

[piece-of-pierce]

Danny picked up some traits from his parents. He got his mom’s flexibility and reflexes, his dad’s love of anything chocolate flavored and abnormally great cardiovascular health. The trait they both passed on (to Danny AND Jazz) is an intense need to learn everything they can about what they don’t like.

Jazz remembers what it was like when Uncle Hammond passed and Aunt Alicia got different. She’s terrified of her own emotions effecting her like that some day, so studies psychology like there’s no tomorrow.

Jack and Maddie bonded over their shared fear and death and resulting desire to learn everything they could about it.

Danny can’t stand clowns. They’re dishonest and hide who they are behind heavy makeup and outlandish costumes. Freak show kicks that dislike into a full-on phobia though, so he goes all in on learning everything he can. How does clown school work? What are the requirements to be a clown? What rules do they have to follow? If he knows their limitations, he knows their weaknesses. He will not be caught off guard again.

That knowledge sits in the back of his mind like a comfort blanket. Every so often he’ll dip back in and research if there’s anything that’s changed. He wants to keep on top of any information about his greatest enemies.

Finally, he manages to graduate high school with a 2.7 GPA and 31 on the ACT thanks to his Math and Science scores (and a carefully managed brawling schedule with his rogues). Thanks to those, he managed to get a partial scholarship to Gotham U for Physics and Engineering. He still isn’t sure how he managed that, but he’ll happily take it.

What he won’t take is this FALSE Clown trying to cause trouble right before finals! He’d kept on top of his shit all semester and wasn’t gonna let anyone kidnapping him and some other people off the street get in his way.

Later, the Bats manage to find where the hostages were held because one of them waved down Robin. As in, all the captives had gotten free and when they found the right warehouse, it was to one young man berating the Joker.

“You’re nothing but a modern rendition of the town fool!”

[bonesmarinated]

Oh, baby, have you seen Amy tonight? 🔪

[magnusbae]

To illustrate this post by @mayahawkse I would like to visualize to you the difference:

A post in 2023:

A post in 2014:

A zoom out of the same post:

This is what a community looks like.

See how in 2023 almost all of the reblogs come from the OP, from their few hours/days in the tag search. Meanwhile in 2014 the % of reblogs from OP is insignificant, because most of the reblogs come from the reblogs within the fandom, within the micro-communities formed there. You didn't need to rely on tags, or search, or being featured. Because the community took care of you, made sure to pass the work between themselves and onto their blog and exposed their followers to it. It kept works alive for years.

It's not JUST the reblog/like ratio that causing this issue, it's the type of interaction people have. They're content with scrolling and liking the search engine, instead of actually having a reblogging relationship with other blogs in their community.

Anyways, if you want to see more content you like, the only true way to make it happen is to reblog it. Likes do not forward content in no way but making OP feel nice. Reblogs on the other hand make content eternal. They make it relevant, they make it exist outside of a fickle tumblr search that hardly works on the best of days.

If you want more of something, reblog it.

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Incubus

NSFW Art the Clown x F!Reader

Prompt: Reader is out with one of her friends when she runs into an interesting looking clown. Later that night, he seems to visit her in a dream. (Kinda going off the idea that Art is a supernatural being who can appear in people's dreams at will).

CW: Art being a freak, use of sex toys, oral f!receiving, multiple orgasms, choking, creampie

a/n: to quote Cassie from Euphoria "AND YOU CAN ALL JUDGE ME IF YOU WANT BUT I DO NOT CARE! I HAVE NEVER EVER BEEN HAPPIER" really going back to my sexy-clown-fucker roots with this one gang

~~~

Halloween Night.

You and your friends had been planning to go out like you had since you were teenagers. Getting dressed up in your sluttiest best Halloween costumes, going to your favorite spot in town to eat, then hitting up some parties.

Your group took up a large table at the same old diner you always met at. Friends pregaming with flasks and shot bottles they snuck in. Some more blitzed than others. As you got older, the desire for partying was beginning to leave your body. Wanting to be completely black out drunk in public becoming more embarrassing than exhilarating.

So when your best friend decided she wanted to mess with one of your fellow patrons, a lump formed in your stomach.

A tall man dressed in a half white and half black clown costume sat at one of the tables alone. Giant shoes adorned his feet, the tip of his long nose had a black dot on it, and a bald cap with a tiny hat rested upon his head. He had been staring at your group since he arrived. Most of your friends too out of it to notice.

Your friend walked over, leaning over the table he sat at. Pushing her cleavage directly in his face as she spoke to him. “Nice costume,” she batted her lashes at him. His expressionless face stared at her. A semi aggravated frown on his face. Everyone at your table began giggling as you watched in horror. She took a seat directly in his lap, wrapping one of her arms around him. She tugged at the hat on his head, smacking it down with a pop. “Awe, look how cute. But dontcha think it would look better one me,” she grabbed the hat off his head. Pulling the string and placing it down on her own.

Embarrassment ate away at your insides. All your friends stared and snickered at the situation. The man seemingly unfazed. She flicked at his nose with her finger. You could not take it any longer.

“Oh my God,” you grabbed her by the arm and yanked her away from him, “I am so sorry. If I had known she was going to do that I would’ve stopped her sooner.” You ripped the tiny hat off her head. “Here’s that. Once again I’m so sorry—“

“Why do you keep apologizing to this freak?!”

You shot a look at her, brows pushed together in frustration. Pulling her outside of the restaurant. She fought for you to let go of her. Stumbling in her drunken state.

“What the fuck is wrong with you! Why are you acting like this?” You were hurt by your friend’s actions.

“Why do you even give a shit, Y/N? That’s just some random skeezeball in a restaurant. I could fuck him and we’d never have to see him again.”

“Because you’re embarrassing me!” You shouted, folding your arms over your chest. Taking a deep breath and blinking away the feeling you were harboring.

She stood in front of you with a look of disgust on her face. Her hand planted firmly on her hip. A laugh erupting from her. Wrapping her hand around your wrist and pulling you back inside. Presenting you in front of the table of all your friends. “Go ahead if that’s really how you feel, Y/N,” she cocked her head to the side.

“I�� I, uh—“

“Y/N said she’s embarrassed by us. Guess we huwt hew widdle feewings!” Your friend pushed out her bottom lip and mocked you. The entire table laughed at you. All your so called friends calling you names like “Debby Downer” or “Sour Puss” or “Buzz Kill.”

You stood frozen in shock. Unable to believe all your friends you had known so long were treating you this way. All of them a little drunk, but not drunk enough for them to not know what they were doing.

“Come on, everybody. Since we’re so embarrassing to be around. You can stay here,” your friend patted you on the head as she and everyone else threw some cash on the table to cover their bills. You were in disbelief. Feeling abandoned and hurt. Ashamed.

You looked over at the Clown Man who you were defending previously. His gaze fixated on you, expression completely emotionless. Sharp eyes cutting into you. Walking over to him one last time as you began to leave, “I really am sorry she did that. I hope your night goes better than mine.” You gave him a closed mouth smile as you walked out of the restaurant. Lifeless eyes watching you exit.

You held yourself as you walked home. Cold breeze hitting your revealed skin, sending chill bumps down your body. You tugged at the short skirt you wore when you saw a group of guys staring at you. Suddenly uncomfortable in your costume. You arrived home and began getting ready for the night ahead. You did love passing out candy. Something you really had not got to do in a long time. You loved seeing all the kids dressed up, excited for their sugar filled treats.

Time passed and the knocks on your door were scarce. Disappointed in the lack of trick-or-treaters. Feeling like you had lost all love for this holiday. One that was your favorite. Deciding to pass on dinner and just bake some cookies instead.

You sat on your couch mindlessly watching TV. The lack of trick-or-treaters had you drifting in and out of sleep. Finally dozing off…

You were in a dark room. Only lit by candlelight. A musky smell filled the air. You looked down to see yourself completely nude. Wrists and ankles tied to the frame of the large bed you laid on. Confusion ran through you.

Footsteps filled the room. Straining your neck to look down the dark hallway through the open door. Complete silence coming from the darkness other than the loud clap of shoes. The Clown from the restaurant earlier walked into the dim light. Facial expression flat, eyes piercing down at you. Heat dripped down your body knowing he was seeing you completely nude and on display. Approaching the edge of the bed, his head falling to the side as he stared at your bare pussy. A wicked grin crept upon his face.

His hand dug deep down into the bag he carried. The sound of all different textures of things tussled against each other as he went shoulder deep looking for something. An excited look washed over his face as his hand gripped around what he had been looking for. Pulling a deep red, microphone shaped vibrator from the bag. Your entire body flushed.

He crawled on the edge of the bed between your spread legs. Clicking the vibrator to the setting he thought you would enjoy most before teasing around your pussy with it. You moaned at the sudden sensation. Your thighs began trembling as he edged closer and closer to your throbbing nub. When the toy finally found its place on your sweet spot you called out to him, your hips arching at the feeling. Making circular motions with the vibrator, pulling every noise from you he could. Watching as your chest heaved with each shaky breath.

The waves of your first orgasm washed over you like a tsunami. Every inch of you quaking as pure ecstasy pumped through your veins. The Clown smiled at you from the position he was in. A prominent tent pitched through his satin suit. You bit your lip watching him palm himself through the fabric. Mouth beginning to water as the spot of his suit grew darker with his pre-cum. You rolled your hips at him, encouraging him to fuck you.

Dark eyes shot up to look into yours. Hand never leaving his erect member. Your eyes pleaded with him, a small quiet “please” falling from your quivering lips.

His hand clawed at the fabric around his cock, ripping open a hole big enough for him to pull himself out. Eyes unable to look away from how his gloved hand wrapped around his member. Tugging at his erection, his head falling back ever slightly as he savored the feeling of his hand. Almost like he was putting on a show for you.

His body weighed down the bed as he positioned himself to be directly in front of your aching core. Head of his cock prodding at your entry. Tremors of anticipation quaked through you. His lips were barely parted as he looked down at your face. Hooded eyes enjoying the view of you. He rubbed the tip against your folds, collecting all the remnants of you on himself. Ready to delve in.

… A loud knock at the door pulled you awake. You had been dozed off for a few hours now. It was almost too late at night for kids to be out. You sat up, grabbing the bowl of candy off the table in front of you. A second more aggressive knock. “On my way!” You called out as you walked to the front door.

Opening the door to a familiar costumed man. The Clown your friend had been rude to earlier. Little old to be trick-or-treating, but you did not care. “Oh— Hey! It’s you,” flashes of the dream you had been having about him ran through your mind. Heat rising to your cheeks. You swallowed heavy. A toothy grin painted his face as he waved excitedly at you. Holding up a black garbage bag asking for candy from your bowl. You smiled grabbing a large handful of candy and putting it in the bag for him. His eyebrows rose as his mouth morphed into a perfect ‘O’ shape. His hand went up to his lips blowing a silent kiss at you. You caught it with your hand and placed it on your cheek with a giggle.

“There plenty more where that came from. You’re probably my last trick-or-treater for the night. I’ve got all this candy left,” you shook the bowl tossing the candy around in it. The Clown stood before you not saying anything. Eyes staring at you with a wicked grin on his face.

The loud sound of your fire alarm going off made you jump right out of your skin. You looked over your shoulder then back at the man in front of you. His eyebrows furrowed with concern. “Oh— Oh, Crap! I forgot about the cookies I put in the oven!” You rushed back into your house leaving the door wide open. Running into your kitchen and grabbing the oven mitts you had left on the counter, pulling the charred cookies out and throwing the pan into the sink, running cold water over it. Smoke engulfed your kitchen. You opened the window over the sink, fanning the thick fumes out of the window with your oven mitt. Coughing as you accidentally inhaled some of the tar.

You leaned over the counter, hearing the squeak of shoes approaching you identical to what you had heard in your dream. You looked up to see the Clown examining your house. Waving his hand in front of his face as he scrunched up his nose at the smell. You sighed, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even get to introduce myself to you yet. I’m Y/N.” He waved at you acknowledging the introduction.

“Don’t say much do you?”

He shook his head aggressively.

“Hmm. Then how am I going to learn your name?”

He gleamed excitedly. Coming over and grabbing you by the wrist. Pulling you to your fridge where you had countless letters, newspaper clippings, and coupons pinned. He pointed to a picture about the local go-cart racing tournament that happened a few weeks back.

“Cart?”

He made an ‘X’ with his hands, shaking his head in disagreement. He reemphasized the ‘X’ before holding up one finger.

“Okay, minus one letter.”

He nodded with a bright smile.

“Car?”

He folded his arms over his chest, a look of disappointment on his face. His head falling to the side with a look that said “really?”

“Okay. Okay. Art?”

He jumped up and down clapping his hands with joy. Nodding his head rapidly. Clearly thrilled that you were so good at guessing.

“Art! I like that name,” you smiled suddenly realizing that his grip around your wrist stayed. Blushing at how close your bodies were to each other. Remembering your fantasy you were having about it pulling heat to your face.

“Well, since you’re already in here might as well make yourself comfortable. If you wanna sit in the living room I can bring you a glass of water or something,” you smiled. His wide eyes stared at you, smile never leaving his face. He slowly gave you a thumbs up before spinning on his heel and going into your living room.

“Can I tell you something crazy?” You smiled as you sat the glass down in front of him. He nodded. “I— you were just in my dream.” His mouth morphed into an ‘O’ shape, eyebrows raised in intrigue. “I dozed off after I got ditched at the diner. And we were— uh— well, you were. I was—“ Embarrassment washed over you. Realizing you were about to admit to having a sex dream about a complete stranger.

He made an okay gesture with one hand, sticking his opposite pointer finger into the o. You blushed at his insinuation. You nodded coyly. His face fell into a look telling you he thought your thoughts were naughty. Chastising you with his finger. You smiled. He rested his chin on one of his hands propped against his leg, waving for you to continue with the other.

“OH! No, you don’t want to hear the details or anything. It was…” you hid your face from him slightly. Unsure of what to say about the dream. Too awkward to fully admit it.

Art crawled off the couch, resting his chin on your bare knees like a begging puppy. A large frown decorating his face as he fluttered his eyes at you. Wide eyes stared down at him in your lap. Your nerves were set on fire. The source being where his chin touched your bare skin. You swallowed back hard.

He pressed his lips into the skin of your exposed thigh. Biting the soft flesh, leaving grease paint anywhere his lips touched. You felt your body quiver as his teeth dug into you. Bites turned into long licks. Saliva painted your exposed skin. “Art~” you moaned loving the feeling of him on your skin. A wicked grin crept on his face.

Partially gloved hands pried your legs open. Sadistic eyes stared at your clothed core. Noting how you had already soaked through your panties. Licking his way up your skin before planting a sloppy kiss on your core. You slid down the couch exposing yourself better to him. His long tongue lapped over your soaked entry, sucking on the fabric. Your hands gripped his head, eyes rolling back as he worked on you.

He suddenly stood up. You fluttered your eyes up at him. He walked over to his previous seat on the couch. Digging through the black trash bag he carried with him. Making a surprised face when his hand found what it was looking for.

Everything was so familiar...

Pulling something out and hiding it behind his back. Gesturing for you to join him. Patting his lap as you got closer to him. Hesitantly you straddled him. He leaned back into the couch, hooded eyes scanning your entire body. A mischievous grin painted his dirty teeth. He grabbed at your panties, ripping them clean off. Holding them up to his nose and taking a deep inhale, eyes rolling back into his head. Over exaggerating his exhale and putting your ripped garment down into his trash bag. The cool air against your now exposed core sent chills across your entire body.

There was a sudden hum coming from behind Art. He pretending to look around as if he could not find the source of the sound. You blushed at the realization of the noise. Revealing the same deep red want from your dream. You gasped.

"That's the same one from my-"

He cut you off by pressing the toy against your throbbing clit. You moaned loudly, throwing your head back. You rolled your hips against the vibrating silicone. Fire igniting deep inside you. Lost in the feeling.

Art watched how you played with yourself on the toy. His cock begging for the same attention the vibrator was getting. He smacked the side of your thigh to get your attention. Pulling you from your horny, dumb state. Your eyes meeting his gaze. His brows furrowed together as he pointed down to his erect cock. You continued your motions as you reached around to unzip his clown suit. Sliding the satin off his shoulders. His pale, slender body revealing itself to you. Propping yourself up so he could shimmy the material around his ankles. Noticing how he wore no underwear under the suit. You smiled as you stared at his cock.

Your first orgasm was rapidly approaching with the pace of the toy pressed into you. Art's gloved hands guided you down onto his member. Throwing his head back as you sunk down. The way your walls sucked him right in. Almost like your body was begging to be fucked. He blinked hard, his jaw agape. Hands encouraging you to bounce up and down. From the first few hops your orgasm took over you. Moaning his name and shaking. Walls gripping his member inside you. Art licked his teeth, mocking your orgasm face.

You expected him to move the wand so that he could fuck you to his own high. However, he pressed it firmer into your aching nub. Your hips rutted forward. Shocked expression taking over your face as you panted above him. Sweat decorating your skin.

"I-I can't do an-another one," you pleaded with the Clown. Your senses in overdrive as your pussy still spasmed around him occasionally. He pouted, mocking your pleas. Nodding his head to tell you, you would be having another one. Shaking entirely as he began a relentless pace inside you. Snapping his hips flush against your ass with each aggressive thrust. You cried out with each crack of skin. Overwhelmed with how good he felt inside you.

Fingers dinging into his bare shoulders. Gripping him tight enough to break the skin. His own fingers held your hips with a bruising force as he continued bouncing you on him. Feeling yourself approach another orgasm. Air hitching in your throat feeling your skin burn with pleasure.

Art reached one of his hands up and wrapped it around your throat. Squeezing tighter than anyone had ever before. Having you seeing stars, feeling like you could faint at any moment. Truly taking your breath away from you.

HONK!

A silver horn was shoved in your face as he released your throat. Bringing you back to the situation. Also causing you to grip his member again. He mimed a laugh when your body jumped at the sudden noise.

His head fell back against the head of the couch as he savored the feeling of you wrapped around him. Knowing his end was approaching. Sloppily thrusting up into you, circling your clit with the want. Willing you to cum at the same time. You watched as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. Wishing you could lean forward and bite at his flesh. Decorate his skin with your markings. But you were far too close to your second high to change positions now.

Screaming out to him as you came far harder than the first time. You felt Art shoot up into you, spilling his hot seed into you. Continuing to thrust up into you as he rode out both your highs. Watching how he leaked out of you and pooled around his base. Smiling for a moment before his face fell flat. He helped you off his lap, sitting you beside him. Standing and attempting to reach his zipper on the back.

You stood and helped him. Making sure to pull the zipper away from his skin to prevent any accidents. Art turned and tipped his hat to you. You blushed as you stood in front of the man who just rocked your world.

You watched as he grabbed his black bag and threw it over his shoulder. Heading towards the door. Turning to blow a kiss at you one last time.

Catching it and placing it on your lips. Blowing one right back at him. He pretending to rub the blush off his cheeks.

And just as quick as he had entered he exited your home. You waved goodbye. Choosing not to question the stranger you had let into your home for a quick fuck.

Watching as he disappeared into the night.

~

[END]

// Thank you for reading! This is my first time writing for Art. You really gotta get creative when you can't use dialogue lol. I hope you enjoyed this story! I plan on writing more for him, so if you have any requests please send them my way! Or if you want to be tagged in anything let me know! //

{tags}

@hoe-for-daddywise | @cup1d-ends-here | @xenoanamorph | @getmeoutofhell |

[frappegoddess]

I originally said this in a reblog but, picture this

Bruce Wayne gets invited by BuzzFeed to read thirst tweets. They are all from his Justice League coworkers.

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

Bruce, in a completely monotonous voice: @Superman says: I wanna suck Bruce Wayne's soul out through his dick and spit it back in his face.

Bruce, with a completely straight face: Poetic

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

Cue the batkids watching this video after its been uploaded and gone viral on Twitter: Remember when Uncle Supes wrote that tweet about you when he was stoned off his ass??

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

Said video was further used as blackmail by Tim, Jason and Steph. Duke couldn't look him in the eye for a week straight. Damian is yet to understand why the kids at school keep making jokes about his dad.

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

The Justice League will never live it down

[doeidawn]

18+ MDNI — soapgaz x f!reader

boyfriends soap and gaz who have a habit of sending each other videos of themselves having sex with you. not in a braggy, "haha she prefers my dick" type of way, but more like a "dude look how hard she came when i touched her like this, you gotta try it, man" way.

boyfriends soap and gaz who have a groupchat for you to send your nudes so they can jerk off together.

boyfriends soap and gaz who are supposed to be giving you attention but they can't stop kissing each other when they're between your legs.

boyfriends soap and gaz where one of them positions you perfectly—holding your legs apart, angling your hips just right, keeping your head steady, holding your tits in place, etc—just to watch the other man lose his mind over how good you feel.

boyfriends soap and gaz that turn any friendly competition into an excuse to fuck you first.

boyfriends soap and gaz where one of them always has a hand under your shirt while the other always has a hand in your pants.

boyfriends soap and gaz who rile each other up by talking about how tight and wet you are; sometimes they end up fucking each other to the thought of you.

boyfriends soap and gaz who always make special requests of the other man to fuck you when one of them is away. basically making specialized porn for them to watch when they miss you.

boyfriends soap and gaz <3

[theclownbehindtheslaughter]

for no real reason besides projection, i now say Vox has dyslexia. He thinks Niffty’s name only has one ‘f’, he never remembers that Velvette has the extra ‘te’, he constantly swaps letters and then gets mad thinking someone insulted him, when in reality they were not calling him a bitch, but just sent him an email about a broken switch somewhere on set that needed to be fixed. i’m slowly giving Vox all of my disorders and whatnot, and will not stop here. tune in next time to hear me say he had h-EDs in his lifetime and that’s why he has a TV for a head. because he was fragile

[clownwrites]

Home drinkin.

Johnny/Kenshi blurb

alcohol mention/Fluff/No warning

Kenshi didn't drink often, even before his blindness, he couldn't spare the luxury of that kind of vulnerability.

 The sounds of Cage's living room light up his memory, a cacophony of morphing faces he'd come to familiarize his hearing to. 

Barakka spoke carefully to the cat that made his acquaintance in one end of the room, a conversation had in the kitchen on the far side between farmers and the like casual company. Lui Kang sat beside Kenshi with a drink for himself "you've taken in quite a home" he smiled toward the star, who sat opposite of them both in a recliner, carelessly flipping through tv channels.

"Not my favorite by far, but yeah" Johnny agreed "easier to keep up with. Ken likes it." he noted, pointing towards the swordsman with his remote

Kenshi smiled at this "yeah, I don't end up tripping into your arcade room trying to take a piss now"

Lui snickered before sipping at the crude plastic red cup he was given, as many other fighters that had filled the room. Johnny described the clothing between all of them "like attending a Galactic Renaissance ball" So the image of Lui sitting beside him, sipping on a solo cup in luxury silk caused Kenshi to share in the humor. 

The chatter through the night had become sort of a blur for Kenshi, not that he went unacknowledged, just that he had little to offer as everyone's speech began to slur into comfortable giggles and tripped up dances to the "weird earth music" Johnny had put on. 

The cacophony of chatter and music began to slowly trickle out the door, "thank yous" and laughs sparkling behind Kenshi's eye wrap as he joined in their goodbyes. Few of them stayed behind to clean the mess, but even those few followed suit.

There was this dense emptiness as the night ended, not of sadness. Just suddenness of silence, except for Johnny, who's hands clattered amongst the dishes. 

"Don't you have a dishwasher?" Kenshi asked, leaned against the island

"Yeah" Johnny shrugged and admitted "but the house got too quiet." 

 Kenshi hears Johnny stop, turning off the faucet to wipe his hands dry on his jeans. 

"Noticed you didn't drink or nothin during the party-" he started, sliding a heavy bottle of presumably liquor across the countertop.

 "I wanted to offer you some but I didn't wanna make you feel singled out for not drinkin." 

Kenshi smiled appreciatively "I never drank much before and I'm not sure how well I'd fair when I can't see." He wiped his face and sighed "I also didn't wanna find out and look like a Jackass in front of everyone" he admitted  "I can't imagine I've got a strong liver."

Johnny snorted "Oh come on" he stepped away to grab two shot glasses, Kenshi heard a distinct crystal clink against the marble underneath him. "Okay this, my friend-" Johnny boasted, popping open the same bottle of liquor that slid in front of them, as he poured two shots, "-this is where I peer pressure you." 

Kenshi laughed as he heard the smile in Johnny's voice "this stuff will give you a smooth buzz, I won't make you down anymore than this if you at least let me see you buzzed" 

The swordsman sighed, resting his head to 'stare' in Johnny's direction "okay" he agreed "and if I get anymore of this, make sure I don't slam into a wall"  Johnny carefully puts the shot glass into Kenshi's hand, and holds his own glass, clinking them ceremoniously as he winked "I'll even aim for you at the urinal bud" 

-

Kenshi found himself stumbling beside Johnny, 4 shots of whatever it was, sloshed his senses and painted a warm smile across his face. He never bothered to ask at the first glass, Kenshi trusted Johnny implicitly, even when the sour taste sizzled behind his ear drum. 

Kenshi needed to keep his arm around the star, to pull him in as much as he could to support his way through the house, both having wrapped an arm around each other's waist and walking as if sharing a hip. They'd spent hours walking around the house, the blind man only listening to Johnny's almost poetic way in describing the home around them, from the painting in the halls, to the details of his new curtains.

 "did I tell you about my new curtains?" Johnny giggles "here man, touch these fuckin curtains they’er so cool" 

By the window, they both stood as Johnny pulled and shoved the length of fabric In Front of Kenshi and waited for his free hand to find it. And Kenshi did, expelling terrible disgust at the texture, silk and embroidery which snagged against the calluses on his hands "oh gross it's sticking to me" And regardless of how terrible they may have felt, the star never lost his enthusiasm in detailing the floral designs into Kenshi's ear like a frat boy reiterating Oscar wilde. At some point he'd leaned forward from Johnny's rambling to touch the window just beyond it. 

Cold glass under his fingertips when he asked "is it night time?" 

"Yeah" Johnny smiled 

"Describe the stars to me"

Johnny looked past the curtains and scrunched his nose, there were no stars above New York, the skyline was in a constant state of dusk, polluted by the lights of the city, tho they stood so far above it. "Uhm okay." Johnny clicked, sighing, he thought to lie to Kenshi this one time. The sincerity in the swordsman's voice placed a warmth in his chest. 

"They're like holes poked through iridescent tulle layered onto silk…" he started, looking towards Kenshi, "they sparkle as if daylight is shining through them, like each layer of blue and purple is shifting between itself. It bleeds into a gold skyline of city lights."

Kenshi snorts "You make it sound like a romance novel" 

Though his jab doesn't prevent him from indulging the experience; by laying his head against the celebrity's shoulder "I was half expecting you to describe yourself, actually, when I asked."

Johnny smiled "I could've " he admitted "but that would've been too easy. You deserve to hear about something really worth looking at again."

The swordsman shook his head, slipping his arm upwards and resting it on Johnny's back he digressed "I think I'd be okay looking at you forever if it meant I could see without my sword again." Johnny lays his head against Kenshi's, whos voice laments loss of his sight and curses the stillness of his memory.  "Don't wanna have a pity party" Kenshi seethes "sometimes it just dawns on me."

"Could be the alcohol talking too." Johnny assured "stuffs good at weighing you down." There's a promise on his mind, something he's always intended but could never quite put to words

"Best I can do is make sure my words make the memory of sight disappointing enough that you'll never care to see again." 

And followed the moment Johnny could feel an assuaged smile against his shoulder. 

"Thank you, Johnny."

[mischievous-thunder]

Logan's madly in love with a clown

[djotye]

he is so pretty!!!