#but MAN. I GET EMBARRASSED WITH OLD ART…

[rystiel]

umm……………… i can explain

[c-nstellati-ns]

whenever these two have an argument and want to figure out who wins, they fight to near death about it to see who is right despite it being an obvious answer

( conquest absolutely loves it ) ( archivist thinks it’s a waste of time ) ( the gda is Very Scared )

[itadooori]

yea i rewatched the s1 finale. did a lil doodle about it

[kumquatpoo]

I havent been drawing so heres some wilsons from the last few months or maybe weeks (i have lost all sense of time)

[n4rval]

consider: mad genius who's also a very kind and lonely old man

actually adores children and connects with them better than most people because they are both openly candid, creative and curious

struggles with the asexual conundrum of wanting a spouse and offspring but ultimately Sucking So Much Ass at building intimacy with another person he skipped that part altogether and mad scienced his way into a family

[athanatosora]

managed to log back into my acc for it and was reminded abt obitofic bc of comments. i fr cant ever post the rewrite bc 1) that thing ended up soo different bc i just straight up couldnt bring myself to reread my old writing so it just ended up being a whole new thing LMFAO 2) the characters. if i could id tell the me from a decade ago its ok to want to blow up certain characters w my mind its not “unfair” to them they are fictional characters. they are dolls to play with and beat up and chew and spit out like dog toy. 3) the tone. its uhmmm a bummer

[melvincholy]

old low resolution art of creacher guy

[red-dyed-sarumane]

on the topic of art & art style i think its also important to remember the amount of time that goes into it. very very few people are going to watch a life changing tutorial or see a reference that makes everything click and almost magically their art looks like someone elses. i have over 11 years into this hobby its building skills rather than something that just happens

the oldest i have access to rn is from 2014 the lines are totally scratchy & unconfident the coloring is too scared to make any statements & overall its the desire to mimic what i saw & liked without any real thought into what made others work something i liked

2015 sees a little improvement in line confidence & a little more thought into shading but its clear i just knew clothes were something people wear & didnt have any thoughts on how it reacts to being worn. just total guess work and it looks off because of it. and yet again the bg is taking an idea & trying to make it work without understanding it

2016 i hit my first feeling of "huh if u take the lines away my coloring is almost solid enough to hold up without it maybe i should try sometime" theres perhaps a little more understanding going on in the clothes but the lighting was clearly not thought about

2017s when things really started picking up i think it was the last year i did line art. even if i didnt quite understand it theres more thought put into the shading, what colors work with what & what kind of depth that can give instead of just making the same hue slightly darker & calling it a day

2018 took a bit of a hit bc i started doing lineless art & needed to get used to that & the type of refining & attention to shape thats required for it rather than before where the lines defined the shape so everything else was secondary. no lines really let me play with brushes & totally redefine how i did hair. likewise it forces more depth range in shading bc if u dont it really really looks flat.

2019 we're more used to the lineless style theres less practice of how to do the style itself and more refining going on. this is the exact art i spent 6 hours redrawing the shirt & getting frustrated it didnt look right i went & put on a similar shirt & sat in front of a mirror for a long long time actually paying attention to what parts of the fabric grabbed where & fell where & it finally started to actually look like something instead of just mush stuck on in a lump. far from prefect but a good start. likewise i was gradually learning to refine other shapes as well & starting to fuck around with reflective light despite totally not understanding it. to this day i still dont know how to do noses but at this point i decided a little triangle for the lightest part worked well enough to get the point across

2020 was a rough time & i lost some of the progress i made before & had to relearn different balances like face proportions & the like. shading was still a lot of hard shading, deciding a deep shadow color & using that as the main & not really having any softer gradients. theres a bit of an attempt at transitional colors though. also the year i decided to start using eye color at the ends of the eyelashes for fun. i also got into aru sekai series at the end of the year so sorry thats going to be most of my examples from here on

2021 i felt very brave this year i did multiple pieces that took the whole month to finish (condensed time without breaks is more like 24 hours per piece) i really felt like messing around with what moods lighting can give & also wanted to do real backgrounds for once & honestly i wish i would do that more still. put some real thought into putting things in the foreground to give more depth & make it seem more complete. the shape of the clothes & bed could definitely be refined more as well as i'd handle the wet part of the wall from whatever the blue liquid is differently now as it doesnt quite reads as wet so much as just shadow. likewise the liquid should have a bit of a different way of reflecting light so it looks like a liquid and not a goo. uh but i still really like this one there was a lot of thought put into it & i think it shows even if its not up to my current standard

2022. tempted to use the anni art again but i think this one shows off the skill level better. different lighting & how that interacts with different parts. keeping the shape of the skirt part in mind while its hidden under her jacket was difficult & wasnt done the best i couldve but theres definitely softer and more thoughtful blending going on in other parts of the clothes like her jacket. again using the flower petals to put something in the foreground to make it feel more full. working on making shapes more clear constantly but thats a given any year.

2023 was more continuation trying to make shapes & details as clean as possible. less messing with lighting & backgrounds than before but theres still plenty of attention to detail going on in basically every part i can manage to think of. this is still the thing that took me the longest to date 37 hours & even then i wish i had had time to put more thought into a real bg a type of destroyed city type of scene but alas i did have a deadline on this one and also i was so so tired from all of this. i do enjoy using the broken glass to show a glimpse of whats going on in the other songs i really do need to recycle that again i could outdo myself given the time & energy just u wait. but i still love this as is.

2024 rough year i moved & was struggling with so so much legal paperwork and then also other assignments most of my art was nothing more than doodles but i really ended the year off well with simaenaga rime. technically i finished it in january this year but i was over like 2/3 done with it when the year ended so im counting it. this wasnt even supposed to be some sort of statement i just saw the outfit irl & thought it would suit her so i self indulgently started drawing it & before i knew it it took 18 hours of work when i thought itd be 12 at most. so much thought into the direction of the fabric and all the little details on the outfit. and this is a simplified version of the actual design. i dont like how her nails turned out i somehow dont know how to color nails despite keeping my own long u would think itd be easy but no. adding color variation in the whites so its less flat & more interesting but still reads as white. despite a basic bg it still gives the feel i wanted so im more than happy with it

2025 i FINALLY drew my beloved Angel From Songs Ou-chan (tenshi) again & really used it to play with lighting & expressions & colors. the one part that really fell short of my vision is i wanted to have the inside of her hair look like its glowing blue & it admittedly doesnt look that off but its not what i was hoping for either. i want to keep this trend this year making interesting lighting and/or angles & try to get in some with real bgs again.

[taurusii]

Family reunion

[seafoam-taide]

man im So glad i save shit looking at old art is the best auuugh augh augh

[full-time-femboy]

This was supposed to be a quick practice thing bc I didn't think I would post it

But honestly, I'm too proud of this to not post it

Sketch below cut bc I liked that too

[akitauma]

SAME

"back on my bullshit" in reference to recurring hyperinterests dating back to middle school and beyond

[a-story-teller]

"Why aren't I getting comissions 😩" well you see. Unfortunately it is because you are not very good at art. And then you're attempting to peddle said bad art. My sincerest apologies

[littlcdarlin]

Who Will Love A Little Sparrow?

summary: Joel turns sixty.

warnings: girthy age gap (60 & mid 20s), Joel feels guilty about age gap, I cried while writing this, emotional fluff

note: it took one ask to convince me to actually write this lol hope you like it, anon! Title is from the Simon & Garfunkel song

Joel hasn't quite realized he's turning sixty – sure, he knows he looks it, feels it in his cracking joints, aching back and wheezing lungs, sees it in the stares the two of you get walking through Jackson hand in hand, but your company keeps him young. Three and a half decades between you will do that to a man.

He's never liked a big fuss on his birthday; even when he was half his age all the singing and balloons embarrassed him more than anything, so he didn't mention it was coming up during the weeks beforehand. You knew, of course, and so did Tommy, but he figured patrols would keep the two of you busy enough to prevent anything more than an extra kiss from you and a teasing comment from his brother – maybe birthday sex when you were done with your work for the day.

When he wakes up, it's his first thought, though not in excitement, but resignation. Sixty. The number feels like a chasm between the two of you. It makes him feel dirty for having touched you the night before, and he wishes humanity hadn't decided on the decimal numeral system.

You're scheduled for the morning patrol, so he doesn't expect you home before noon, which for the first time in his life feels like a relief. It gives him a couple of hours to bury the guilt about your age somewhere deep and secure, under vague childhood memories and the first thirteen decimals of Pi, where it won't come bubbling up while you're laughing your sunshine-laugh. He doesn't want to dim your spark, not when you seem to just have found it again.

He scuffles downstairs, dragging his feet as if he's turning ninety instead of sixty, just to wallow in his self-pity while nobody is around to see it. If he's lucky, he'll have two more decades, maybe even three, though that kind of hope is practically brazen.

He sighs, making his way over to the kitchen, thinking that if he makes his coffee strong enough, it might make him feel fifty again.

"Happy Birthday."

His head snaps up, and he's staring at you instead of his toes, your youthful face a little blotchy from the excitement.

"Here," you say, and thrust a cupcake in his direction. There is a single purple candle on it, and the frosting isn't draped across the dough in artful swirls the way they did it before the outbreak – still, it's the best cupcake he has ever seen.

"I couldn't fit sixty candles on this thing, so you get one."

Your smile is a little lopsided, a little too understanding, and Joel swallows.

"Thanks," he mutters quietly, staring at the blue part of the flame. "Geez."

"Blow it out," you say, "and make a wish."

He doesn't believe in that, but he obliges because you somehow found him a cupcake in the middle of the apocalypse at the crack of dawn.

"Now," you say, almost business-like, as if the first bullet point of one of your little lists has been crossed off, "I got Tommy and Maria to cover us on patrols today. What do you wanna do first, drink outrageously bitter coffee, or carve a wooden sparrow?"

He stares at you. You must have found the little bird he made during his many sleepless hours – he put it on the very top shelf in the living room where it wouldn't attract attention. It's not that he's embarrassed about it, he's just not sure it's a part of himself he wants to share with the world.

You put the cupcake on the kitchen counter and turn back around, that same knowing smile on your lips.

"I got you something," you say, and Joel frowns.

"You shouldn't trade for–"

"I didn't."

You hand him a small package, wrapped in some old newspaper you decorated with tiny, drawn-on hearts.

"Tommy said you used to wrap presents in colorful paper just to throw it away," you explain, that sense of wonder in your voice, as always when you talk about the before, "I didn't have paint, but I found a pen that works."

Joel stares at the package. He remembers the last birthday present he unwrapped perfectly, can see it catch the morning sunlight on his wrist.

"I–Geez," he just says, again, and starts to carefully peel away the newspaper without creasing your little artwork too much. His thumb traces one of the hearts. There is a hint of red inside the paper, and then he's holding something small.

"Where did you get this?", he asks, voice quiet with awe and something else that seems to thicken his throat.

"I found it in an abandoned raider's lair," you say softly, "I know I should have handed it to Maria, but I thought you could use it for your sparrow. Give him a face, you know, some feathers."

Joel traces the little cross on the Swiss army knife, and feels his chest tighten.

"Don't tell on me," you say teasingly, but with a hint of self-consciousness at his lack of a response. Joel swallows, and drags his eyes away from his present and to your face.

"Thank you," he says quietly, unsure of how to voice the thoughts rushing through his head, "I– thank you."

"Yeah," you say gently, "'course."

You accept his gratitude, understand what he means by it. You don't make a fuss with your un-swirly cupcake and single candle and no singing. All of a sudden, Joel feels his eyes prick and burn, and he rubs them quickly, wipes away the wetness. You touch his shoulder, make him look at you, and he clenches his jaw in embarrassment.

"Sorry," he mutters, "you just...know me so well."

There it is, your sunshine-smile, and you press a kiss to his naked chest, as high as you can reach.

"Sixty isn't that old, Joel. Don't even think about using it as an excuse to stop chopping firewood."

He chuckles and cups your face in one of his massive palms.

"No ma'am."

[sobbingscripter]

⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼wc. 2216🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆

“Really feel the pottery in your hands. Feel the clay as you shape it.”

The sound of the teacher is drowned out, your attention on Mark and literally, only Mark.

Your nipples are pebbled, charcoal pencil between your teeth as you watch the muscles of his forearms flex with each movement of his hands. His wet, messy hands that shape clay so sensually. God, your palms are already sweaty.

You’ve long abandoned your art project, your incomplete drawing remaining just that. Incomplete.

And you feel your belly dip inward when you watch his middle and ring finger push into the centre of where the hole of whatever pot he’s making. And you nearly moan when he shifts his position, his arm reaching into the pot to shape the inside.

You feel like a pervert. A creep. A weirdo.

Like if Mark didn’t know you, he’d move to walk on the side of the street furthest from you, because your thighs are pressing together with each gentle circle he makes to the outside of the pot, middle finger pressing into the malleable clay to form patterns.

And you cover your lips with your fingers, dragging them down your chin as you try to grab a hold of yourself.

Mark glances towards you, a snort falling from his lips before he motions to your mouth, and your brows knit. Before reaching into your pencil case, pulling out a compact mirror and you grimace.

Charcoal smeared like a fucking goatee.

You rifle through your bag, pulling out a small package of tissues before you wipe at your face, checking your reflection to make sure you’re getting all of it.

“Young lady,” the teacher’s voice breaks your concentration and she looks down at you, “less vanity, more drawing.” And she plucks the compact from your hand, before continuing to walk between the aisles of students.

Looking between their different projects and you feel the back of your neck burn with embarrassment as well as annoyance.

“Dirty old bitch.”

𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆𓈒

“You weren’t there to stop me from making an ass of myself, you dildo.” You hiss, watching as William continues to clean away the barely perceptible streaks of charcoal from your chin.

“I told you to take welding.” He huffs. “Only way you can make an ass of yourself there is if you lose a finger.”

You glance towards your reflection in the bathroom mirror, only satisfied once you’ve reapplied your lip liner, as well as your gloss.

And William steps out of the bathroom first, before backtracking, turns to you. And he presses his palm against your mouth, smearing your lip combo across your face.

“Oh no. Guess we’ll have to stay here for a while longer. Shucks.” William sighs, dramatic and you seethe. “You asshole. What’s so—”

You poke your head out of the bathroom, your eyes widening.

“She’s literally never even acknowledged his existence unless he’s validating one of her stupid opinions!” You hiss. “The fuck does she want with him?”

Your hisses are whispered and William shrugs, wiping at your lips before reaching into your pocket, pulling out your lip combo.

“I don’t know but it’s probably just—”

“William, she’s touching his arm. Oh, God, the world is spinning and I’m smelling pennies.” You groan, leaning back against the cool frame of the door and your hand moves to clutch at your heart over your shirt.

“Someone took my bitch, Willy.” You whimper, bringing your fist up to your mouth, teeth digging into the flesh as you bite down on your knuckles.

“I’m gonna end up on Channel 5, I just know it.”

William watches Amber and Mark, seeing the way Mark smiles. All sweet and bubbly, watching the way Amber laughs and the hand on Mark’s shoulder gives a nice, lingering squeeze.

“No, no one’s taking your bitch. I promise. Look at me.” William reassures, before his hands move to cradle your face, forcing you to look at him.

“Look. At. Me.” He takes a breath. “That is your man. You’ve listened to Seance Dog lore for fucking hours. No one deserves to ride that… Awkward, socially anxious… Permanently stressed… nerdy pony more than you.”

“You’re really bad at— oh, Willy, she’s really close. Girl, I’m gonna crash out.”

And William huffs.

“Amber doesn’t have shit on you. So what if she’s pretty, and smart and she always smells like the Bahamas. Or actually like... More specifically a daiquiri I had when I was eight and my family went there for vacation. But listen to me."

William forces you to look deep into his eyes.

"She does not have shit on you."

And you glance back at Amber and Mark, your spirit crumbling like a cookie when you see the way she pats his chest, her hand lingering and sliding just a bit to ghost over his abs as she passes him. And you nearly throw up.

"William, is this what Beyoncé felt like?"

"Yes." William answers immediately. "But this is your Lemonade moment. Babe, look at me."

And William sighs, his tone almost sympathetic as he whispers to you, "We be all night."

⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆

"Don't be an asshole. Get me a job here." Mark whines, brows knitted into a furrowing frown as he watches you weave between customerw and aisles, continuing to restock various shelves of comic books and paraphernalia.

"No, you're like, one of the biggest customers. Every time you buy a comic book, that's a dollar added to my end of year bonus." You cross your arm over one another, ignoring Mark as he trails behind you, plopping down in the chair near the register and he continues to nurse his Slurpee.

"What are you even gonna use the money for? My mom buys your groceries." Mark huffs and you whistle.

"Wow. First of all. The money my parents send me goes into my college fund, and secondly, your mom forcefully buys my shit. And thirdly, I pay her back." You defend.

"How?"

"I do her hair, I mow your lawn, I wash her car in jean shorts and a backwards baseball cap, not to mention, when she works from home, I'm her assistant."

And Mark scoffs. "You just bring her snacks and take her calls."

"Because her own son doesn't even wanna feed his loving mother."

Mark can barely muster a response, his jaw going slack at your retort and it takes him a few moments to recuperate. "How dare y—"

"I dare easily."

Mark rolls his eyes, pink lips wrapping around his straw once again as he watches you interact with customers. You've got the sweetest smile, pointing out which comic franchise each aisle is dedicated to. And his eyes fall to where your palms are braced on the glass counter, limited edition comics displayed underneath and he watches the way your manicured nails tap at the glass absentmindedly.

You've got pretty hands.

Nice fingers, well kept and the softest palms, and you always know how to accessorize without looking tacky.

And he clears his throat.

"You got that limited edition Seance Dog yet?"

"Yeah, but can you afford it?"

And Mark scoffs. "How much?"

"110." You raise a brow in amusement when you watch Mark swallow heavy, his Adam's apple bobbing. Before he purses his lips. "And you can't hold it for me?" And you shake your head, lips tugged downwards into a mock sympathy expression.

"You know, I can buy it for you. But then I need a favour." You lean forward, elbows braced on the counter and Mark's pretty sure his ears stop working because all he can focus on, is how that pretty pendant dangles from your neck, right above your cleavage. You're giving him the minimal view down your shirt, and he's acting like a damn dog.

"Uh huh?" He squeaks out.

"Everytime I change my sheets, I want you to put the fitted sheet on my mattress." You cross your arms over your chest. "No matter where you are, what you're doing, who you're with."

"Deal!"

⋆⑅˚₊୨🌻🌼🪻୧₊˚⑅⋆

"You spent... A hundred and ten dollars... On a picture book?" Debbie deadpans, eyes narrowing at you from behind cucumber slices, her hand in yours as you continue to file at her nails. She rests back in the recliner, her legs stretched out, foam separaters between her toes as she allows herself to be pampered.

"It's a Seance Dog comic." You hum. "It's got like... Extra panels as to how he became like... Seance Dog. I don't know why, but Mark seems to like it."

And she lets out a breath.

"What even—" "He's an anthropomorphic dog. And he's kinda based on Doctor Strange. Like, costume wise."

"Who?"

"It's a Marvel character. He's like, a wizard."

"Then why's he called 'doctor'?"

"Because he's a doctor."

"Then why is he still a wizard?"

"Because he's a surgeon and a wizard."

"Do his parents know he's running around in a cape?"

"I think his parents are dead, Miss Debbie."

And she winces. "Died of shame?"

"No..." You snort. "They don't really... Go into much detail about that. Or they do, I don't know. I'm not very into Marvel."

And Debbie lets out a quiet sigh, toes flexing and she lifts one of the slices from her eyes, glancing towards where you're busy with her nails.

"Could we try an almond shape? A little bit longer." You note the way it's hard for her to meet your gaze and you gasp.

"Miss Deborah, you dirty dog." You snicker. "Gel build?"

And she nods her head. "The nude pink."

"Can I expect Mark sleep—"

"Without a doubt."

"God—" Mark pants. "Are you just randomly helping people put up water towers?"

"No." Nolan hums, arms crossed over his chest as he watches Mark steady the metallic storage item. "However, these people needed help and you were in the area."

"You were too."

"Who's the hero and who's the rookie?"

And Mark huffs, arms crossed over his chest before his phone buzzes in his suit and Mark fishes the device out of his pocket.

Number 1⭐: 'your mom's gonna get her 🐱 ate'.

He stares at the text, his expression faltering before he stares at Nolan, his lips pressing into a thin line that slowly morphs into a grimace. The longer he stares at his father, the more his expression crumples.

And the more his expression crumples, the wider Nolan grins, already having a mild idea of what the text read.

"You know, you ought to marry a girl like that." Nolan hums. "Smart, funny, likeable."

"She's a massive dick." Mark huffs, sliding his phone back into his pocket before he crosses his arms over his chest. Lips tugged into a disgruntled frown.

"That falls under 'funny', son." Nolan states.

"Well, that's too bad. I've already got a girl I like. Her name's Amber and—"

"Can Amber fight, Mark?"

The question is abrupt and Mark's brows knit in confusion.

"Huh? I— I don't— I'm not sure."

"Cause Amber's gonna need to." Nolan states. "At some point... in the near future."

"Why would Amber need to know how to fight?"

"Because, Mark, one day, she'll need to." And he coughs. "One day soon."

"Soon?!"

"Well... Soon by Viltrumite standards."

⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆

Mark spends yet another night in your company, his shoulder against yours as you both stare up at your ceiling. Phones on charge, the lights shut off and the only other light being the slivers of moonlight that creep through your curtains.

"You know, you never told me your hero name." You state softly, your voice just as quiet as the raindrops that patter down onto the grass outside, pelting against your window and Mark hums quietly.

His hair's damp from his shower, his broad shoulders stretching yet another of your shirts although this time, it's an 'I Heart GILFS' T-shirt.

"Invincible."

There's a quiet silence between you and Mark glances towards you, only to see you already looking at him. Your expression is blank, unreadable and he can't fight the laughter that bubbles from his lips when you turn your back to him.

Pulling the covers up to your chin.

"Oh come on, it's not bad!" Mark giggles, a muscular arm wrapping around your waist and he pulls you towards him.

And the room gets quiet for a wholenew reason.

The warmth of his body is intense, the way his breath fans across your neck and the way his fingertips press into the softness of your belly.

And he dips his head, lips ghosting over your jaw as he cranes to meet your gaze.

He's grinning, dimples in his cheeks and shadows playing on his features.

"You're just jealous."

"Jealous of what, Vincible?"

"Jealous of my aweso— man, fuck you."

T🌼A🌼G🌼L🌼I🌼S🌼T

@lucky-beheaded ; @queen-of-gotham ; @coldvirginbitch ; @wittyjasontodd ; @a-n-a-n-a1 ; @dearlyya ; @broicouldjustbuyyousomekombucha ; @jasontoddswhitestreak ; @daydreams-and-peace ; @misstyy12 ; @fruticake ; @httpstes ; @waterflowersblog ; @glowinthedarkjellyfish ; @vm4879bb-blog ; @monaekelis ; @radlovesfics ; @allycat4458 ; @bigbodycity ; @feral010 ; @anesthesia-4rizzle ; @princesstrunkz ; @blackfox774 ; @sh1d0uryus31 ; @your-lovely-rose26 ; @slugstarzz ; @ripcolel0l ; @strawbiemilk420 ; @verysynical ; @kikiiguess ; @missam ; @luvvfromme ; @luvvcharxo ; @alma-ru3 ; @mxvoid26 ; @urfriendlyfrog ; @the-good-kooshe ; @troublesome-nara ; @secretaccountlol ; @syubseokie; @atanukileaf ; @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere ; @i-love-frensh-fries ; @love3vivian ; @boyofroyo1 ; @tamaranblaze ; @supersecretxreadersideblog ; @etphonehome0623 ; @markgraysonlover ; @icanmeltanigloo ; @itzmeme ; @buckturd

[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 |