Wowie this intro post is old lolz! (It reminds me of Odysseus’ ship, if it’s changed so much in the past two years, is it the same post?) Anyways-! I’ve been writing fanfiction for about two years, I’m a big reader of actual books as well, lolz. I’m a Riddle and Lilia yumeshipper, I love gothic horror and romance 😋
My posting schedule is literally non existent— I have drafts and reqs from like a year ago that I’m still working on sporadically x.X Enjoy your stay regardless!!
Requests: OPEN!
Commissions: OPENED!
Anons: 🦭, 💤, 🪶,🎀
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Rules .𖥔 ݁ ˖
Don’t DM me asking if I’m doing your request, I promise I see it and I’m working on it! If you request while my requests are closed, it will not be done. Specify if you want a one shot, headcanon, or ficlet or I’ll automatically do headcanons. Specify the pronouns, gender expression, and sex of the reader or I’ll automatically write they/them, GN, AFAB.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖Fandoms I Write For .𖥔 ݁ ˖
Twisted Wonderland, Obey Me!, Date Everything!, Hellsing, The Arcana, Mystic Messenger, JJK, Whatever else I feel like lolol
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Will write: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, NSFW, Piss, Yandere, Trans (Reader or making other characters trans/another gender that’s not canon), Anything queer, fat/chubby, BD/SM (This includes light-medium age play, pet play, pain play, fauxcest, and other taboo kinks) Student/Staff, Lilia/Student, Leona/Student (student will be explicitly 18+)
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Won’t write: OC x Character, Angst no comfort, SA, Rape/CNC, Sc*t, actual incest, Romantic/NSFW of Children (ei; Luke, Ortho) , fat shaming or explicit ED mention (even in comfort fics)
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Links.𖥔 ݁ ˖
Masterlist
Ao3
Discord Server
Alt/Backup: @cinderellasarchive
DO NOT REPOST/TRANSLATE OR FEED MY WORK TO AI AT ALL
Jason The Toymaker | Jason Oliver Meyers/GN!Reader - Poppet
The rapt of his knuckles against the bedroom door yielded no response, and so after another attempt, the red-haired man called out.
"Are you in there, my treasure?" Silence again. A crease appeared between Jason's furrowed brows, he tried the door handle, and the hinges creaked as the wood gave way. The light was off, remedied quickly by Jason flicking the switch as he entered the room. The bedroom held the very essence of his beloved. From their scent to their aesthetic, and everything in between, all he saw as he gazed around their space was a reflection of them, all but one item. The small, poorly made doll sat upright against their pillows, and even though it was clear that its maker was no master of the craft, anyone with half a good eye could tell who it was meant to resemble. Jason made his way over to the bed, his original objeective forgotten as he reached for the doll.
Picking it up, he held it carefully in his hands, gentle as he turned it over, as though the slightest wrong tug would send it. His eyes were wide in awe, honor, and confusion. The long red hair was messily sewn in, and with no clear part to it, something Jason could tell even with the doll's hat still resting on its head. The button eyes, polished with what he could only imagine must have been a clear top coat of nail polish, shined almost as brightly as his. Jason held the doll in one hand, and with his touch as light as a feather, he dragged his index finger along the wonky, uneven pinstripes of the matching corset-vest and hat, a smile sneaking its way upon his face.
"Jason? What are you doing in here?" A voice called out, causing the tall man to slowly turn around, his honey eyes swimming with joy as his gaze met theirs.
"Oh, hello, dear." Jason grinned as he replied. "Me? Why I'm just admiring the craftsmanship." There was a slight teasing tone to his voice, but both parties knew that there was no real bite to it. His lover's face burned as bright as teh sun in embarrassment. "Did you make this?" Jason asked. Their eyes widened, they bit their bottom lip and turned away.
"Just," They began. "Just put him down please." They muttered. Jason's eyebrows shot sky high in entertainment.
"'His?'" Jason asked, which he quickly followed up with a guffaw. "Here you have the real deal, and you're more concerned about a miniature doll version of him!"
"Jason, please! I'm embarrassed enough as it is, just put it down!" They exclaimed, and the ususally cold-hearted devil softened, his eyelids falling lightly. He gently put the doll back in its place and made his way over to his lover, taking them in his arms, and holding them tight.
"I'm sorry to tease you, my treasure. I really like him."
"Don't patronize me, Jason." they said, the words dripping bitter from their tongue.
"My love, I am not patronizing you," Jason attempted to defend himself, only to be cut off.
"You are. You have to be. It's nowhere as good as any of yours, you can see I don't have any talent." They said, pressing their forehead against the redhead's chest. Jason brought a hand to the baxk of their head, petting lovingly.
"I love him because you made him. You made something of me. You must care for me greatly to go to such trouble." Jason said, his voice as smooth and warm as his irises. "But if you were so concerned about the skill or quality of doll-making, why not just ask me to make one for you? You know I'd be more than happy to."
They sighed at Jason's statement. It would be humiliating, but they would have to come clean.
"I know how important your work is to you, it's practically your whole life, and I would never want to take away from that. Your dedication is one of the things that I love most about you, but I get lonely sometimes. I miss you when you lock yourself away in your workshop for days on end, and wanted something of you to hold so that I could feel you near. I wanted to make it because you make toys, and I thought if I could see and understand your work, I might understand you better. i thought it might make me feel closer to you."
The lean man with the amber eyes could feel his heart almost shatter. His darling, his partner, his beloved, his whole world, had been put under the impression that they came in second place to any other part of his life, and that was not something that he could stand for.
"Oh, my dearest." He cooed, using his index and thumb to pull at their chin, forcing their eyes to meet his. "Interrupt me anytime. You are the light of my life, and there is nothing with which I would rather fill my time." He graced them with a large smile, one full of love, and continued. "In fact, why don't you come with me to my workshop tomorrow. I'll teach you, we can even make a miniature version of you so that my mini-self doesn't get lonely when I steal you away from him." Jason offered. "How about that, hm, treasure?"
The kiss they pulled him into was all the response he needed.
Tag only the Creepypastas that will be show, just them. If they are mentioned, put in the tags that they are mentioned.
I want to see content of Nurse Ann but there is always a post tagging every creepypasta that exist under the sun, but the post is about how they reacted when they read the sleep experiment,like girl, what Sally has to do with it?
If I click on a Judge Angel tag, I want to see judge Angel content, not a nsfw fanfic of EJ, or a post about Liu, I want to see judge angel content, nothing else.
could you do a nsfw alphabet for laughing jack candypop or jason?
Smut ofc.
𓍯𓂃𓏧♡𓍯𓂃𓏧♡𓍯𓂃𓏧♡𓍯𓂃𓏧♡𓍯𓂃𓏧♡𓍯𓂃𓏧♡
☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★Jason the toymaker☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★
A = Aftercare
Jason is shockingly tender after sex giving you a bath (no he won't let you do it yourself) applying lotion on dry skin salve on painful spots and skincare. Then he'd cuddle with you for and hour or so or rock you to sleep in his arms. He views you as a doll at times and takes care of you like one after sex.
B = body part
His favorite part of his body is his hair hes vain about it. On his partner hes an artistic perv so instead of something like you ass he'd say more like the color of your iris or any stand out features like softer hands or different sizes and types of bodies.
C = cum
He likes to cum inside since it's quote "less clean up". Big on Cumming down your throat. Also type of guy to make you cum so much you cant anymore regardless of gender. Has a bad habit of ignoring refractory period and making his partners cum again almost immediately. Not opposed to being came in.
D = dirty secret
Has a diy fleshlight/and/or/ dildo of your bits he uses sometimes when you're away. If you ever found him using it he'd probably cry.
E = experience
Sorta a total loser. Hes fucked men and women before but not often
F = favorite position
Cuddle fucking lowkey he wants you to sit on his Lap while y'all do it. Or over on his workshop table that works too (he likes sitting you on it)
G = goofy
Not at all serious fucking romantic and or freak
H = hair
Waxes that shit BALD cuz he hates the feeling of it. Would prefer his partners at least trimmed.
I = Intimacy
Intimate in a weird way. Says oddly sweet stuff over layed with calling you his precious doll that no one else should see like this.
J = Jack off
He hates doing it and publicly says its gross. Actually humps pillows to completion or rides dildos In private then feels guilty.
K = Kink
Mainly dollification
Bondage and suspension
Being pegged/bottoming
Dom/sub stuff either way
Waxplay
L = location
Workshop or his apartment nowhere else
M = motivation
His partner dressed up girly gets him going male female or otherwise. He also sometimes subconsciously grinds against his chair while he works and once came while doing so.
N = No
No public sex
O = Oral
When receiving he gets submissive really fast because hes not used to someones mouth on his dick or ass. Grips at your hair if you let him and will buck agasint your mouth. Whimperer too.
When giving hes a lot more in control and will use his hands and mouth at the same time. Big on kissing you down there. Kinda bad at sucking dick tho cuz he's normally on top w gay stuff.
P = Pace
Eh dependa kinda. If it's a normal day slow and deep but if you catch him upset about something his main goal shifts to bruising your cervix/prostate and he'll ram into you until you see stars.
Q = quickie
Jason isnt big on quickies but he is big on getting blown underneath his work table so sometimes he'll sit you under there pusn his boot between your thighs and fuck your throat.
R = risk
Jason's a risk taker for sure. He'll dip his own hand in wax and finger you with that hand. He's not above fucking you just out of view of his stores window. He won't kill you or share you tho.
S = stamina
Little to none when you first meet him. Not hard for him to build it up he gets whiny after his first orgasm though.
T = toys
WHAT DO YOU THINK. he also is impartial to using dildos on himself won't explain.
U = unfair
Yeah what do you think he'd hold you down to watch you squirm. He's honestly just a huge tease spending the entire day working you up just to make you beg him. On the flip side teasing him makes him fold like a chair and so much as lightly touching his back can get his ass hard.
V = volume
Not particularly too loud. He'll talk filth to you if he's on top for sure but he won't moan too much unless you let him overstimulate or overstimulate in which case he will get whiny.
W = wild card
He's much more of a bottom than people tend to expect. Yeah he can be a dom but frankly he'd prefer to be the submissive partner due to his want for attention.
X = xray
About 8-9 inches hard maybe 10 if he's not in his false form. He wouldn't have been circumcised as a baby but he got it done later in life (he did it himself)
Z = zzz
Doesn't sleep after until you do. Also can't sleep without holding you so knowing you fall asleep first means you won't leave him.
Thinking of angsty LJ and him overthinking every little thing afraid you’ll leave. His abandonment issues affecting him so bad he lashes out and you gotta comfort that big ol guy 👹 might even get harmed in the process of calming him… lead to some sweet smut 😝
(Can’t stop thinking about your sub LJ omg 😶🌫️)
LJ (if he trusts you) is very much a dog that doesn’t realize he’s heavy and large, tackles you full force because he’s excited and you literally almost die.
I think his lash out would build up over time. A downhill slope until he snaps. It’d start with his jokes getting progressively more defensive and strangely edged, over analyzing every interaction you’ve had. All that leading up to the explosion. It would be destruction in motion. Manic laughter and wailing, telling you that he knew what you thought of him. Knew how scared you were, and that you should be because he was a monster, wasn’t he?
It would take a lot of patience on your end, slow coaxing, using logic and staying calm. Explaining that you were shaken up because you were worried, anxious because he was someone you loved with all your heart. Not because you scared of him.
By the end, Jack would be the SADDEST pile of noodle limbs in your lap. Curled around you like an overgrown striped python. Mumbling apologies with fat tears streaking his painted cheeks. Sorry that he’d yelled, that he’d scared you. Beg you not to run because he didn’t mean it. He hadn’t meant any of it, sniffling that he just said things sometimes. His vocal barrage simply a tantrum. He would be pitiful after all was said and done. The normally black voids with white dotted pupils, now glassed over. And contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t even doing it on purpose.
LJ, at his core, was nothing but a child’s dream that had been snuffed out before it could spark. A blessing, living and breathing naivety gifted by the stars. Joy and wonder laced up with a ribbon.
That part of him is still there, just buried under layers on layers of grief.
He wishes, prays and mourns for the person you deserve. The person he was before he had been marred by wrath and iron enforced apathy. Mutilated into something he hated, yet binded by the mold he’d been given. Like malleable clay, drying over time until it had turned to stone. A display trapped in place, permanent and hardened. The colors muting as the years dragged on.
But sometimes, even the most brittle marl can be weakened and sculpted. With practiced touch and warmed hands, it can be rebuilt into something new. Whole. Different and changed perhaps, but not wrong. So with perseverance, and a little love and care, you could paint him all the shades the skies had to offer.
Once the frenzied panic had faded, he’d be quiet, quieter than you’d ever seen him. Laying on you and enjoying the solace you’d offered. You made him feel safe, as strange as that is. A giant nightmare of a clown, reduced to a lanky teddy bear. Completely yours to hold.
—
I KNOWWW YOU SAID SMUT BUT IM FEELIN SAPPYYY. And I kinda lost the plot but he needed some soft lovin 🥀🥀 my poor baby 🥀🥀
IT GENUINELY FEELS LIKE IM IN HEAT IM DYINGGGSHYSYS. Ok who gaf. Drabble below.
!! Closet-Demon !! Sub-LJ now !!
➽──────────────❥
He had probably been watching you for awhile, chained to the house for as long as he could remember. His music box tucked into the attic when you’d moved in, the trinket reading “Jack In The Box” in bold lettering. You didn’t think anything of it- and neither did he. Just another victim, lured into his trap like starved critters to honey. Stalking behind your closet doors as he’d done countless times before, he froze in his tracks.
See the thing was, usually, his prey were either stupid or children. You, apparently, were neither. Jack had found that out in the most exciting way possible, he’d been lurking amid the darkness of your clothing rack, waiting to pounce. When instead of falling asleep, you’d pulled out a minuscule little device. Slipping it under the covers, heat adorning your skin.
The sounds that left your lips that night were teeth rotting.
Sugary, all high pitched and needy. It made him hot, had him drooling and gnawing at his cheek. He’d witnessed something close before, but nothing like this. Your sheets slowly slipping off your legs, core bare and dripping. Rocking against the buzzing thing between your thighs, whining as you arched. So he watched, and watched- and watched.
Day after day, weeks mixing, his plan forgotten. His self control finally snapping when you started calling out for someone. Too lost in your fantasy, moaning for “more- mmph- please.” His mouth was watering, he’d never pictured himself doing anything of the sort- let alone want to participate with another breathing thing, yet he could only hold out for so long. It was as if he was hypnotized, body reacting on instinct. Primal urge to fill, consume and take. To breed.
The need was something he’d never experienced. Aching in his patch-work slacks, cock twitching desperately. Saliva pooling under his tongue, he decided he’d have you. It was only fair, he’d waited so terribly long and you looked like you needed it so terribly bad. Basically crying for him, it’d be morally wrong to leave you unsatisfied, he thinks. With that, your wardrobe flings open. He was haunting. Face covered with the remnants of a circus that had died decades before you’d walked the earth.
Your lust riddled brain betraying you, clenching around nothing at the sight. Maybe it was his height, towering over you as he crawled up your frame. Or maybe his broadened shoulders, masked by a feathery cloak. Either way you were fucked, just not in the way you’d initially thought. Your toy thrown to the side, battery shutting off on impact. His appearance clicking somewhere between the hazy fog, the clown. Right. Jack in the box. It was creepy, but you never thought it’d come to life, especially with a raging hard on.
Running his tongue against the razor sharp teeth that lined his gums, he giggled.
“How rude of me, I know-“ maddened and giddy as his toned thighs bracketed your head. Effectively pinning you in place beneath him. He continues, “But- I simply didn’t have the heart to let you cry, my dearest.” Clumsily tugging at the button on his trousers, claws snagging on fabric in his haste. “I’ve never- oh-“ He’d pulled his cock free, sitting heavy in his palm. The size made you gasp, tip leaking with pre, flushed a dulled greyish-pink.
His eyes were crazed, pupils just white dots swimming in ink. “It- it’s too hot- haah-“
Movements rushed yet unsure, his inexperience clear. Wrist jerking at his length, hips bucking with his brows furrowed in frustration. Micro-dosing on euphoria; it wasn’t enough. You’d clearly lost your mind, because his sounds were making you gush. Desperate and panting above you, frantically trying to find the right angle- right pace to hit the spot. “Please- please just stay- ngh- stay still. Feels s’good-“ slurring, he whined.
Pace growing distressed, it still wasn’t enough. Tears collected at his lashes, he was upset. It felt as if he was burning alive, so pent up he was dizzy. You cooed, hands nudging his out of the way. You stroked from base to tip, pressure steady and firm, the pleasure had his jaw slack. Body folding over, grasping at the headboard, he rocked his hips into your smaller palms. It felt so fucking good, sparking up his spine, filling his head with molasses.
“Mmph- so pretty, you’re so pretty. Please- it hurts- wanna- ah.” He babbled. Jack didn’t even know what he was saying, barely recognized his own voice at this point. Pumping him faster, you gave kitten licks against his sensitive cockhead.
The heat of your mouth had him reeling, shaking like a leaf above you. His spine arched, choking on his spit when he came.
“Oh, hah- goodness- w-wait, I think I-“
He trembled violently, painting your face.
The syrup sticky and opaque, it tasted like watered down icing. Expression pornographic, tongue lolled out his mouth and his eyes nearly crossing. You gulped it down, slobbering around the tip. Half-lidded when he spoke, the climax rendering him docile. “H-how lewd, my sweet.”
Your poor neglected pussy was weeping, soaking a puddle into the cotton. Humming, an idea forms- a bad one. But an idea nonetheless. “You wanna’ feel even better?” And he falls for it eagerly, hooked on the ecstasy. Readjusting, he settled between your legs. Lanky stripe-covered arms folded politely in his lap. “Even better? How could you possibly do that?” Head tilted to the side, blinking at you. His strange naivety was endearing, it made you want to see him sob. So scary with his overgrown limbs and talons, yet he was awaiting your orders like an excited puppy.
“It’ll feel real good-“ bringing your knees to your chest, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. You spread yourself wide, “In here.” Nodding, he scoots forward. Awkwardly prodding your entrance with his girth, it made you laugh. Hushed in the steamy atmosphere, he seemed so lost for someone who came on that strong. Leaning on your elbows, you reached down, lining him up. “Like this, baby. Push in.” He climbs forward, arms bracketing your shoulders, “Ah- alright.” The second the head breaches your slicked opening, he lets out a strangled whimper.
Burying his nose into the crook of your neck, he sinks further. The stretch was divine, pushing against your sweet spots. Gasping when he thrusts to the hilt. He looked a mess, hair tussled and ragged, makeup smeared with sweat beading down his jaw. Pretty and ruined, just the way you liked them.
He rutted into you like a dog in heat. Arms cocooning your body, using you like a sleeve. You locked your ankles behind his back, “Sweet boy, just like that- fuck. The praise has him keening, rush making his head spin. “Ngh- d-does it feel good? Am- am I doing good?” Stuttering, he huffed. Pounding into your cunt with fervour, drooling onto your skin, increasingly desperate for your approval.
It sounded so wet, explicit and sticky. He fucked you deep, borderline kissing your womb. He hiccuped, teetering so close to the edge he could taste it. His pitched whines and blubbers were getting you off, tight hold on you dragging you down on his cock over and over again. “So good- fucking me so well, Jackie.” Nickname spurring him on. Overstimulated every time his balls slapped against your ass, the pleasure wracking his body in waves.
His sob bounced off the walls, hot tears streaming down his cheeks. It was too much, felt too intense, sensations frying his poor brain. He couldn’t handle it, could barely think. “I can’t- I can’t- feels too good, it hurts-“ absolutely pitiful as he nuzzled your shoulder. Squirming, he bites at your throat, canines leaving shallow nicks. “You wanna fill me up? C’mon give it t’me, J.”
The heat in your gut coiling taut, chest heaving, you gripped at his faux fur like a life line. Climax hitting you hard, shoulders bowing off the mattress. Jack pummelled into your cunt with abandon, cries muffled. He was sobbing, writhing as he fucked you, cradling you to his chest like a teddy bear.
“Gonna cum- ‘m gonna cum— please-pleaseplease—“
He shuddered wildly while he pumped you full. It was so warm, over spilling and leaking onto the comforter. Before the afterglow even has the chance to set in, he mouths at your pulse. Giggling quietly and sniffling, manic.
Still completely hard and twitching inside of you.
➽──────────────❥
➽──────────────❥
A/N: Dom readers we lowk up 🗣️ I love a pathetic mans tears I cannot lie to yuh.
In hindsight, your type in men was always extraordinary. So when something starts slamming doors in your home, you get curious. A stray hand print and one closet void later—
It was love at first haunt.
!! Laughing Jack x F! Reader !! W/C: 4.5k
-> Including: Riding, overstim, slight sub/dom dynamics, choking, sadist adjacent reader, perv! LJ, pathetic LJ and brain washing that clown into a boyfriend :p this is also the lore for how LJ met his reader in my smaus HAHA ->
────୨ৎ────
— ^ ^ —
You think the monster in your closet has a crush on you.
The sentence would’ve sent you into hysterics a month ago, but now? You were completely, utterly and unshakably sure that it was the truth.
You’d moved in about a year earlier, choosing the old house for its affordability. The wallpaper had been peeling, the wood panelling on the brink of decay, and the roof rickety. It sat on the very end of your street, separated from the neighbouring houses by a rusted metal fence. Definitely a fixer-upper, but it’d fit in your budget. Simply a home in need of some loving.
What they hadn’t told you was that it came with a resident poltergeist—
Clown?
Or something.
Well, you actually didn’t know what he was or what category he belonged to, but he made his presence known the first night.
You had been brushing your teeth when the lights overhead flickered.
The bulbs' hum grew louder, then they burst, leaving you in darkness. You were frozen in the spot, with all sorts of scary images flashing in your mind.
However, you were always quite the logical one, and you brushed it off. The wiring was ancient- was it really that surprising if it didn’t run like brand new? So you moved on, only to be bothered the next weekend by creaky footsteps in the hall.
Then it was your papers scattering randomly. A door slammed, an attic hatch swung open, followed by a loud crash.
Yet you stayed.
The deal you’d gotten was far too good for you to give up, and where else would you find a place with amenities included at this price? Though whatever was haunting you seemed determined to scare you off.
From nightmares to shadows in your periphery, he used every trick in the book. Except that over time, there had been a shift in his tactics.
You couldn’t say exactly when it happened, but one day- he just… stopped. No more sleep paralysis, no weird dread that sparked randomly either. For a moment, you thought you’d somehow scared him off.
During the transition period of your move, you’d met his intimidation with obliviousness. Ignoring his silhouette, sleeping in the daytime, and taking night shifts. When that didn’t work, you tried befriending him.
Attempting to make peace with the house by talking to him as if he were an odd roommate, on top of leaving out little snacks for him. And that’s how you got here.
He’d ceased his reign of terror on you for about two weeks before raising the stakes. This time, with a strangely romantic edge.
It began with a single daisy being placed on your bedside table. Naturally, you assumed it wasn’t the resident demon and that you’d gotten too drunk the previous night. Except that way of thinking flew out the window when he became much more straightforward.
The fogged mirror would serve as a canvas, with the words “Pretty” or “Hello, doll !! :)” He’d also roll unlabeled candies through your ajar closet door and scutter back into the darkness when you checked. Speaking of your closet, you didn’t understand how the thing functioned.
When the lights were off, it appeared like there was a void behind your clothing rack. A never-ending pitch black that you could fall into. If the lights were on, you’d be able to touch the back wall in one stretch. It hurt your head, and you decided not to investigate. That didn’t mean it didn’t exist, though.
He used that portal for all kinds of antics.
If you were digging for a sock, it’d only appear slightly out of reach when your room was dim. You’d have to crouch down, crawl from the barely lit space on the carpet to snag it. Sometimes he’d let you grab it; other times he’d continuously tug it farther and farther until you yelled from frustration.
It’d always be returned to you eventually, with you finding the stray sock at the foot of your bed a day later. Or it’d be thrown at the back of your head when you’d given up and stepped away.
At this point, he was more of an annoyance than a life-altering evil. Yet one thing was clear, and it was that he liked you.
Last month, you discovered his name was Jack. Specifically, “Laughing Jack In The Box.”
You’d finally gathered enough motivation to clean out your neglected attic and stumbled upon a music box.
It sat tucked into the corner, layered with dust and looking as cursed as ever. The object was evidently the source of whatever he was, so you were as respectful as you could be. Placing it neatly aside while you tidied the room. This is also when you learned about his clown situation.
While you were elbow-deep in mop water and disinfectant wipes, the music player rattled to life. The handle whirred, the chipped wood jolting as an off-tune melody filled your ears.
You were idle until the song came to a slow, and jumped a tad when the lid popped open. Inside, a porcelain monochrome jester was attached to a spring, about the size of a fist.
Upon further inspection, there was a photo lying at the bottom. An old portrait of what you assumed was him. The edges were faded, his form blurry, and he stood next to a popcorn stand. At first glance, it appeared normal enough- but if you stared, everything in the image was off.
He was too tall, with arms stretching past his knees. The popcorn stand, even in black and white, seemed like a prop. Not one on a movie set or anything of the sort, but as if it were desperately trying to blend in yet failing.
The background seemed almost flat, and his features sat unnaturally on his face. Too sharp, ill-fitting around his jagged teeth. He looked like he was only smiling because that's what people were supposed to do in photographs.
You had called out to him, saying you liked his get-up. Then you got back to work. Wiping down the floors with a Swiffer, organizing the aged boxes from previous owners, and by sunset, you were finished.
He hadn’t done anything else after the music box, so you were left to your own devices. Not a single noise or knocked-over cup in sight.
All that being said, he did a very bad job of staying quiet when it actually mattered.
And he was a pervert.
With the moon lit brightly over the clouds, you were getting ready for some much-deserved relaxation. Your love life was lacklustre, to put it mildly, and your vibrator was luring you in like a siren. You were sure most people would be uncomfortable being explicit in a haunted house, but you just couldn't find it in yourself to care.
The guy had to be at least a hundred. If he was going to loom threateningly in your halls and hide your socks, then he’d have to deal with your bookmarked tabs.
Opening your laptop, you clicked play on a recent favourite. It was basic, yet it fuelled your imagination just enough. The display lit up with a video of a man slouching against his couch, head out of frame.
He undid the drawstrings of his sweats, and you settled against the pillows. Your shirt was already off, panties pulled to the side as you spread your legs.
An important note: your bed was facing the closet.
Another important note: the closet doors were panelled and definitely did not cover the view in the slightest.
You would remember that fact when the glossy toy breached your cunt, and a very scandalized gasp echoed from beyond your wardrobe.
At first, you ignored it. Maybe he was a prude- he was ancient after all. Choosing to pretend you hadn’t noticed anything, you thrust the silicone deeper, sighing. It wasn’t as big as you’d prefer, but you hadn’t had the time to shop for another since your move. It would do for now, and you fixated on the screen. Trying to time your hand with his.
Though only a minute later, shuffling came from the other side of your closet.
Accompanied by panting, you could practically hear him swallow. Now that you were thinking about it, he was tall with big hands. His nose was pointy too, and he was clearly a sexually repressed loser of a demon. He probably hasn’t ever even kissed anybody- which could only mean one thing.
‘Laughing Jack’ had to be packing.
Puffing out your nose, you tossed your toy aside after pausing the video, and the room went dead silent. It was evident that he was attempting to conceal his presence.
Unfortunately for him, you were horny. Swinging your feet off the mattress, you padded over to the closet. Acting clueless so he wouldn’t flee. You moved as if you were reaching for your drawers, just to swing the wardrobe doors open. And there he was.
Scrunched up on the floor, his arms hovered awkwardly, legs folded under him, while he gawked up at you. His hair was longer than in the photo, his neck almost swallowed by a feather ruffle. However, it was the large tent in his patchwork trousers that caught your attention.
He stuttered, shocked. “W-Well, this is quite the first impression-” You dropped to your knees, crawling onto his lap. “Totally.” The purr of your voice wiped the smile clean off his face, and he stumbled back. Propped on his elbows when he tittered nervously.
“You’re very- uh- forward! Has anyone told you that?” His swirled pupils were glued to your face. He was a bashful pervert- who would’ve guessed?
Not answering his question, you hummed. “You ever fucked anyone, Jackie?” Trailing a finger down his broad chest, the nickname had him gulping. “Not particularly, no. Being a full-time entertainer takes work, I’ll have you know.” Attempting to joke, he was in disarray.
Jack had never been so out of his element in his life.
He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this. You were straddling his thighs, bare-chested with only a thin layer of cotton separating your cores.
In all honesty, he hadn’t even touched himself before this, and the weight of you pressing down on his bulge was making his brain reboot. You were so warm- you couldn’t seriously blame him for being dazed, could you?
“Do you want to?” You hummed, running your tongue along your teeth. The faint glow of your lamp gave you a halo, far too angelic for the lust that swam in your gaze.
He stammered. “I’d definitely be open to it. Seems like quite the activi- mmph.” Your lips crashed into his. Jack’s nervous tittering had you soaked, and your patience had run out. You were going to milk this motherfucker dry.
Mouths slotting together, he tasted like watered-down hard candy. The sugar that was left over after you’d finished a lollipop. Your tongues swirled around each other, and he jolted under you.
The sensations made the wire ends spark in his head. Your hands were roaming his chest, his shoulders, up to cup his jaw.
You were squeezing everything there was to squeeze, releasing him with drool stringing between your lips. “Since it’s your first time, you can pick where we start. ‘Kay?” He nodded in response, hyperfocused on your touch. This was fine; he could handle this.
He’d been trapped in a box for years, dealt with horrific violence and mental strain- how intense could physical contact really be? However, as his self-assured pep talk settled, you ground your hips down—
Very intense. Physical contact was really, really intense.
He could feel your cunt mold around his cock, and he borderline choked. “Oh my! Hah, how enthusiastic of you, little human.” Claws shaking by his sides, you grinned.
Ignoring his rambles. “I could suck you off. Use my mouth to ease you into it.” You ran your thumb against his tip, continuing whilst he tried his best to keep eye contact.
“Or I could use my hands, touch you like this-” Your palm pressed against his length, making him gasp. You’d barely done anything, and the imagery was sending him reeling. “Or...”
Lowering your mouth near his ear, “I could just let you fuck me raw, fill me up till you can’t even think straight.” Your breath grazed him only slightly, but that was enough.
You didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. His eyebrows knotted together, lashes fluttering as he whined through gritted teeth. Jack’s spine curved off the wood, and he shuddered beneath you. “Haah- shit.” It was without a doubt that he’d cum untouched; the wetness leaking from his slacks was undeniable.
Slumping after a beat, he panted. “I didn’t- I don’t know what, ngh, happened.” Squinting at you, he looked like he’d genuinely fought for his life.
His hair stuck up in every direction, spit dribbling from his lips when you snickered. “You’re too cute- but I’m not riding you on the floor.” The confusion on his face was obvious, yet you didn’t explain further. Riding? What did that have to do with sex?
Though before he could question you, you rose to your feet, gesturing for him to follow. “C’mon-” You stood at the foot of the bed.
“Let me see you, Jackie.”
Sweat lined his back. Jesus, when was the last time he took off this thing? He didn’t need to shower, use the bathroom or anything of the sort, so undressing wasn’t really necessary.
Gulping, he gave you a strained smile. Undoing the straps over his chest, then his belt, he coughed awkwardly. It was funny to witness someone so uncannily unsettling be so shy, and you chuckled when he hopped to remove his pants.
Jack towered before you, completely bare. His lanky arms faded from an off-white to black at his fingertips, a sparse, happy trail lining his pelvis down to his cock. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes- you knew he was big, but this was something else.
A full nine inches, hanging heavy between his legs, the tip blushed a muted lavender. Your mouth was watering.
Plopping onto the mattress's ledge, you crawled backwards, holding out your arms as you lay against the pillows.
“Come here, gorgeous.” Cheeky, his face flushed, and he climbed over you. Hovering as you cupped his jaw. “You wanna’ help me take these off?” He nodded slightly, holding his breath, gaze flicking down. He hooked a thumb under your panties, tugging them down while you wiggled your hips.
You were being so nice, and your attention overwhelmed him. He’d been ready for you to scream, run, and cry in response. Fear him like everyone else- have him chase you to confess his obsession. He had gone over the scenario time and time again.
You’d see him in his carnage glory, screech at the top of your lungs before begging for your life. He’d be forced to hold you down.
Explain that you just didn’t understand, but you would once he showed you how much you meant to him. He prepped a speech, his persuasion and romance tactics. Yet, you didn’t react in any way close to what he assumed.
You kept giggling, flirty, when you caught him watching you like a degenerate. You called him gorgeous, and now you were offering yourself on a silver platter. He was not prepared for this. At all.
With your underwear removed, you circled his neck, bringing him close. “Do you know what to do?” He sputtered. “Hah- of course I do, my sweet! Just... um.” The pet name felt foreign on his tongue, but you had done the same. He really hopes it didn’t sound weird—
No. Focus.
He was going to ace this if it was the last thing he did.
Wracking his brain for memories, he had seen people participate in the act prior. He was sure of it! This couldn’t be too difficult. He was supposed to go inside you, then move back and forth... he thinks.
The last couple that moved in were decently touchy with each other; it’s just that he was never interested in staying for the whole experience.
He cursed himself. He was blowing the whole charming-you thing, and he couldn’t risk embarrassing himself further. What’s that saying? Fake it till you make it, right? “Okay, I’ll- ah. I’m going to... enter you... now?” Cringing, he lined himself up with your cunt, hissing from his own touch.
Okay, the dirty talk definitely needed work- but he was hot, and you needed the clown in tears.
You spread your thighs wider to make room, and his blunt tip nudged against your folds. Jack was huffing, attempting to find the opening. He missed twice more before you sighed, reaching down to guide him. “Now, push in-” You didn’t expect him to take it as a “slam forward without saying anything”, and you arched sharply.
He was only about a third of the way inside, yet the stretch had you dizzy. “Oh- fuck. Slowly, Jack.” You gasped while he shook above you. Nothing on earth could’ve prepared him for this. You were so tight. It felt like he could barely move, the pulses of your cunt making his eyes roll.
“You’re squeezing me, I- nngh-” He buried his face into your shoulder. “S-sorry, sorry, I can’t.” Then he forced his length deeper, biting down as you screamed. It was as if sopping velvet had enveloped him entirely, the squelch of your cunt ringing in his ears. “I didn’t think it’d feel so- haah-” He keened, his hands scrambling to grasp onto your waist.
His rhythm was sporadic. Moving too quickly, his pelvis thwacking against your mound thrice, before he’d become overwhelmed. His hips stuttered, his body freezing completely. You whined, palms flat against the plains of his back.
“Fuck me, Jackie- c’mon.” You had been pent up for too long, and his pathetic grunts next to your ear had you leaking onto the sheets.
Shivering atop you, he nodded shakily. Desperately trying to please you as he began humping into your cunt. Short, unsteady thrusts, with the pleasure making his eyes water. “Ah- ah- shit. Does it f-feel good? Please, want it to feel good- please.” He dragged his head out from the hollow of your throat, resting his forehead on yours.
You bit down on your lip, moans forced out with every thump against your cervix. “Mhm, so good. Keep- oh- keep going.” The praise made him twitch inside you, his cock weeping an inhuman amount.
Jack’s biology was a mystery to himself- he didn’t know why whoever created him even gave him genitals. The lubricant pouring out of him was constant, thin and milky, making you beyond slick. He couldn’t control it, his voice heightening in pitch when you clenched around him.
It was too good, too overpowering all at once. He wanted to hold it back, stave off the building tightness in his gut, but his willpower was laughably weak. “Sorry- 'm sorry, can’t—” Gasping, his tongue lolled out, pressing against yours as you panted wetly.
Not quite a kiss, your lips simply smushed together. Mouths hanging open, with your saliva mixing and dripping down your chin.
He shuddered violently, muscles tensing from head to toe. His cum painted your tunnel thickly, and you mewled, your nails raking down his back. There was so much.
Blisteringly hot inside you, spilling out to coat his base in an off-white. “Jack-” He slumped into you before you could finish your sentence, hips still faintly jolting. “Too much, sorry- ngh.” He slurred, his limbs boneless. You pouted, huffing. “Mmph, okay.” You should have just done this from the beginning.
You pushed at his chest, and he withdrew by an inch. “I- um, I’ll try again! I promise I’m-”
However, his maw snapped shut the moment you squinted at him. “Get on your back.” An order he rushed to obey, he shuffled to flip over, and you were swift to climb onto him.
Straddling his hips, you slid your sopping slit along his length. “We’ll work on it, but I wanna’ cum, so you’re just gonna’ be good for me and take it, okay?”
You cooed at his quiet sniffling. “I’ll take care of you, gorgeous. Don’t worry.” With that, you nudged his tip to sit against your entrance, sinking down on him only a second later.
The fullness had a blissed-out sigh escaping you, your clit now flush to his happytrail. He whimpered like a dog beneath you, and his claws sank into the fat of your ass.
Head thrown back, he squirmed. The new angle made it feel as if he barely fit, overly snug inside your walls and cramped enough to have his climax already stirring. His eyes rolled up into his skull when you started working yourself open on his girth. “Fuck.”
You were bouncing quickly, not wasting any time to let him adjust. Your pussy slammed onto his girth, and the lewd sounds of skin smacking echoed loudly. You giggled, drunk, while you used him. He hit the spot just right, stretching your hole in a way that had you addicted to the friction.
The ridges of his cock, the veins running up the length, would catch on your opening. Dragging in and out as you fucked down onto him. “Yeah- huuh- mm, yeah.” You moaned, drinking in his ruined expression. Jack was a mess.
Tears streaming down his cheeks, makeup smeared on your pillows. Babbling half-syllables and practically incoherent. He writhed nonstop, turning his face to one side just to jerk his head in the other direction.
“Don’t s-stop- please- pleaseplease- ngh.” His shoulders bowed, brows scrunched up, he bared his canines. His jaw clenched like he was in pain.
For an evil clown, he sure was a pretty crier. Trembling to the point his teeth chattered, tits squished together and dewy with perspiration. It made you greedy, had your hips slowing to a lazy grind before you trailed your touch up his chest. You snickered when a sad whine escaped him, his pout adorable.
“You wanna’ be mine, Jackie?” You murmured, and he nodded in return. “Mmh- y-yes- wanna’ be yours.” His bottom lip wobbling, his hiccups were quiet. Little soft sniffles that seeped into you like a drug.
You grinned. “How bad?” The sudden grip on his pec was firm, making him gasp. “So-! So bad, please.” You were groping him everywhere.
Kneading at his tits, his biceps, feeling him up to your heart's content. You were ravenous, your hunger never-ending and insatiable.
“Ugh, so cute. I’m totally keeping you.” Then you wrapped a hand around his throat, an iron hold on his windpipe. “Open your mouth, pretty boy.” His tongue swirled out, glistening while you pitched forward.
You spit a fat glob into his mouth and moaned when he gulped, picking up the pace without a word. He practically arched off the linen. “Fuck- please- huh, f-fuck me please- so good. Feels s’good.” Jack had no idea what the fuck he was saying, the begs clawing their way up, driven by pure need alone.
His whines were lewd, pornographic, like he’d never heard. He had no idea he could even sound like this. Raw and visceral as he watched you ride him to Heaven's gate.
Your pussy was so wet, your arousal coating his hilt- he choked. “Cumming- cumming- nngh—” Running out of air, he garbled, drool bubbling at the corners of his mouth.
But you were a sadist, and his pathetic nature was too beautiful to end now. You had to stretch it out, savour his tears as if you were parched.
You began humping his cock roughly, molding your lips to his. He laced your tongues together, the striped muscle elongating to explore your mouth.
His glowing pupils had formed hearts when you finally released him with a syrupy smack, and you hummed, cooing. “Can’t believe you’ve been hiding from me.” You clamped around him, ensnaring him with your cunt.
“You’re so fucking big- I gotta’ milk your pretty cock to make up for how selfish you are, Jackie.” He sobbed at that, the pleasure having his head spinning like a carousel. He’d just poured a load inside you, and you were already forcing another one out of him.
He thinks he’s dying. Jack genuinely believed you were going to send him to the afterlife with your cunt. Immortality be damned, this would be his demise.
Sensations he didn’t know existed had him gagging on his own saliva like a whore, his body going haywire at every corner.
“Oh, haah- look at me.” You gasped, palm pushing down even harder. His gaze snapped to meet yours, his lids fighting to stay open. It felt like he was going to explode, the mattress squeaking, the headboard battering into the wall.
His face paint had stained your skin, white and black slathered across your cheek and lips, proof of how you ravaged him. You were ruthless, abusing his oversensitive length with abandon. “Uh- mmh-” The noises you made weren’t helping his restraint at all.
Sickeningly sugary, filthy as you chased your own high. Your free hand joined the one at his neck, a collar crafted out of lust and possession. His legs shook, his abdomen painfully tight. “Who’s pussy is this?” You drawled, constricting his airways, and he slurred in response. “Ah- nnh- wha-?”
You slammed your cunt down, extra punishing. “Who’s fucking pussy is this, Jackie?” Your eyes were ice-cold, hips mean. He thrashed, his struggle to escape the stimulation useless. “I- nngh- uh- uh- m-mine?” You sneered.
Ramming your heat up and down his cock hard enough to make him convulse. “Say it like you mean it, big boy-” You snarled, making him scratch at your thighs. His lungs were about to collapse- and he could’ve sworn he didn’t need those. “I’m yours- you own this perfect fucking cunt.” Mercy was not a name you knew well, and he keened.
Panting, his vision blurred, the pressure in his skull a centimetre away from bursting. He flailed under you, slurring. “Y-Yes, ma’am! Huuh- fuck- fuckfuck-” His broken cries sent you over the edge, and you gasped.
Tensing, with your spine curving, you squirted around his girth. Soaking his pelvis and thighs, climax hitting you like lightning. He spurted gluey ropes inside your tunnel, stuffing you to the fucking brink- then he went limp. Chest heaving when you released his throat, he blinked slowly, dazed.
You pecked his jaw, dragging kisses up to his cheekbone. “Good boy. You’re like- so cutesy, y’know?” He exhaled shakily, his massive frame a dead weight.
Jack could barely reply, yet his weak attempt made you giggle anyway. “Mm, you’re super boyfriend material. I’ve been needing a strong man to help me relax.” He didn’t really understand what that meant, but he was glad you were happy.
His breathing slowed bit by bit while you spoke, an exhaustion he hadn’t felt in decades cementing him in place. The last time he was even close to this tire was when he went on that killing spree back in two thousand eight. And that was a full day of slaughter.
You must be a succubus. A higher-level demon. Some all-powerful monster with a pussy made out of soul-draining diamond.
“We should get matching PJ’s! It’d be fun, we can have a movie night tomorrow cause I’m off till Monday—”
And apparently, he was now your boyfriend. Jack supposed the weird human sayings were true after all.
Okay so I made a list of 30 (well, 29 actually) prompts I am releasing into the wild. The point of this is that at least one of the participants are not having a good time.
It has 30 prompts for November but feel free to write and post whenever, but please add the tag #No one nuts November or #NoonenutsNovember wherever you post. You do not have to @ or credit this blog if you use any of these prompts.
(Text version under the cut)
1. Safeword
2. Sub/dom drop
3. Loosing intrest halfway through
4. Trying something that doesn't work
5. Medical emergency (bonus points: it happens during bondage)
6. Bad/failed orgasm
7. Should have safeworded
8. "Wait, it's not supposed to hurt?"
9. "Let's never try that again."
10. Sex so bad they break up after
11. Realistic shower sex
12. Incompatible kinks
13. Threw up on that thang
14. Can't get hard/wet/aroused
15. Says wrong persons name during sex
16: ugly crying/overwhelmed
17: "I remembered you being better at this"/"I'm not impressed."/"I've had better."/"You're not hung chill"
18: Allergic reaction/cut off circulation
19. Dirty talk/degradation gets too real
20. Ignored/missed a safeword
21. Random horny confession that kills the mood for the other person/people
22. "No really, that's not going to fit."
23. Fire alarm goes off/interrupted by a third party
24. Pushing themselves into sex they aren't ready for
25. Sex toy gets stuck
26. Only one person having fun/agreeing to boring sex
27. Couple brings in a bad 3rd
28. Sex in a bad location
29. Sex so bad it kills you/one of the participants dies
- Tim is the type of guy to overthink into believing you truly don’t love him, which definitely brings in a lot of “𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦?” type of conversations. After a period of time being together you’ll finally be able to convince him you DO care about him, which will keep himself from overthinking about it. (he needs a lot of reassurance ok)
- Tim is the type of guy to politely tell you off in the moment you do something that annoys him rather than have a conversation about it later, which mainly starts as “𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵- 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?” he HATES having to wait to talk about something——He’s a very impatient man.
-Tim DEFINITELY has smokers cough, this isn’t even a headcanon it’s true from what we’ve seen. You would be in bed next to him and out of nowhere he just starts intensely coughing up phlegm (very old man coded) to the point where he’d have to leave the room to not disturb you. He’d later on come back with something such as “𝘜𝘳𝘨𝘩- 𝘚𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵..” whilst having his fist to his chest.
-Tim and his pills go together like peanut butter and jelly. Although he always takes them without a proper time schedule (and takes a SHIT TON in one swallow ), it somehow keeps him sane for the day. He’s sometimes too far busy to remember to take them so if you aren’t aware and don’t remind him—— be prepared for operators sickness!
-Tim tries to be a loving guy and is probably impressively good at it, this man LOVES hugging and it cools him down sometimes (especially mid panic attack.) He trusts you a lot with certain things and even gives you detail on his childhood and medical history, but he’ll NEVER muster up the courage to tell you about his deeper thoughts.
-Tim HATES being alone as there’s a higher chance of him having a seizure or having blackouts. He likes to have you around for comfort—— in the early stages of you dating he’d always text or phone you to ask to come over, mid conversation he’d soft-drop the invite with something like “𝘐'𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦——𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦."
𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞
-Tim is a big eater, he feels as if it pleasures you more and it boosts his ego hearing you whimper and squirm all because of him. He’ll always have his arms wrapped around your thighs to keep them from moving about due to how stimulated you are.
-Tim ALWAYS has a cigarette in his mouth, either that or he’ll blow in the smoke and immediately put his mouth over yours and breathe the smoke out. He loves knowing how much the smell bugs you (you secretly enjoy it but never let him know so he’ll keep doing it to annoy you.)
-Tim a BIG fan of breathplay/asphyxiation, every now and then he’ll like to wrap his hands around your neck or gently choke you with his bicep if it’s in a position where he’s behind you.
-Tim has quite a lot of width, i would say he’s average to slightly long in length and is VERY bushy (he’s a hairy man ok 🤤)
-Tim definitely likes to hold you a lot during sex (arms around torso, arms under shoulders.) so he has something to be able to squeeze onto, it also helps him to hear you moan and whimper upclose whilst he’s also grunting and groaning.
-Tim is a motivator/type to talk you through it, if he feels as if you can take one more orgasm he’ll caress the side of your face whilst he coos“𝘠𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯——𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯.. do it 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩??” when your finally able to give him what he wants, he’ll pat your hair which he’ll then move out of your face as he huffs out a “𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘢𝘳, 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘐 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?.”
-Tim sees sexual encounters as something important (especially with you),as moody and awkward as he can be—— he’ll always memorize the certain things that give you pleasure. Even with just PET NAMES he believes are important with which ones you like/enjoy more, he believes finding out the things that you enjoy from him/about him brings more trust from you in the relationship. (This man is ALL about trust.)
-Tim is very sweet with aftercare! even throughout sex he’ll make sure your okay. (depending on the type of sex that you want/kinks involved) He’ll clean you up after and nuzzle into you or kiss around the side of your head before little spooning you. (like i said he’s a hugger ˃̶͈◡˂̶͈)
thank you for reading !! 🥹🥹 if you want headcanons on other characters pls request!!
MC Says "I love you" a lot/is affectionate. (The Freak Circus)
I was thinking abt this last night. My family says "I love you" whenever someone leaves, goes to a different room, goes to bed, etc. We're a very affectionate family. TFC boys gets a goober reader
----------------------------
Pierrot
Girl. It's his dream. He turns into a puppy every time you say it.
You started it by accident one day. He had visited the cafe and got his usual, and left you a little danish as a "tip". You had said "be careful getting back, love you".
Your boss had to ask him to leave because he had grabbed your hand and was just staring at you adoringly.
Now he pouts if you DON'T say it. You fell back easy into family habits, dropping an "I love you" when he was just going to another tent for a little while, or when you were going to sleep.
In turn, you also got more touchy. A simple rub to the shoulder as you passed by him. Bumping hips with him as you two were standing together. He's in heaven.
Harlequin
Now HE'S uncomfortable. He likes the flirting and sex, but the genuine affection is too much. Don't expect him to say it back.
Naturally, it was post sex. He wasn't particularly a cuddler, but he'd let you lay on him until you fell asleep. You let out a drowsy "g'night, love you" before you promptly passed out. He was frozen for hours after, just staring at your sleeping form in the dark.
He avoided you for a bit after, but it was easy to track him down and pull him back. He didn't actually WANT you gone, he was just scared of the vulnerability. He wanted to know you'd come for him.
Afterward, he doesn't rebuke your affections or anything. But he never really says it back plainly. A "see you later, love you" is met with an "Oh I know you do" rather than a return of the words.
He shows his affection in other ways. He drops food off for you, remembering what you liked (either bought or he convinced Pierrot to cook for you and then hurried to deliver it before Pierrot caught on). Dropping off little green accessories and "forces" you to put them on. And, naturally, he's physically affectionate. He just has to initiate said affections.
If you don't say it one day, he'll poke fun at you. Not being clingy today? Did he piss you off? Cute. Pretends it doesn't bother him. It bothers him.
In the dead of night, however, he'll whisper it. When you're snoring and dead to the world. He'll give you a small "Goodnight, dear one. I love you too".
Ticket Taker
Bil isn't really surprised by the confession. At first. It hits him an hour later. After he had distractedly replied in kind. Neither of you really knew what to do about it until your next meeting.
It was literally just "Dear, I'm running late I'll see you soon" "Alright be careful- love you!" "I love you, as well. Have a good day". And then an hour later TT's mid conversation with someone and just stops.
You two are lowkey in your affections after. It's about like that- love you's as goodbyes, as goodnights, as good mornings. Nothing real dramatic like Pierrot or assbackwards like Harlequin.
He does enjoy the verbal affections, as he isn't a super physical man. He also gets worried if you don't say it, as he'll ask if you're angry with him.
He can't start his day or end his night correctly without a "love you", now.
Doctor
The most up front about it. He asks if you mean that declaration of love, as he thought it was something to save for significant moments for humans.
You were going to dispose of some old gauze for him on your way to find Bil for something. You had said "be back in 10- love you!". When you got back, he was at the tent door. "Why did you say that? Do you actually love me or was that an automatic response?" It was both.
He kind of. Just automatically responds when you say it. Not that he DOESN'T love you, obviously. He just tends to also be distracted, and also parrots your mannerisms in an attempt to connect with you.
If you don't say it, it's like TT- he asks if he's upset you somehow, or if something else has bothered you.
He WILL just stare at you at night, when you're getting ready for bed, until you give him his "goodnight" I love you and kissie. He doesn't quite grasp he can say it first, yet. He'll get there.
Jester
Jester is tricky. He's like Harlequin in a way, but he also just does not want to relinquish control. Especially to you.
He asked you to run errands on his behalf, as you could slip through human stores easier. You gave him an "Alrighty, I'll be back tonight. Love you!". He grabbed you by the skull as you walked, physically turning you around and telling you not to throw such a declaration around so frivolously.
He didn't really stop thinking about it, though. And it bothered him to no end. He wouldn't outright say it was fine to do it again, but when you inevitably slip up and say it, he won't reprimand you so harshly.
Like Harlequin, he'd never outright return your affections. "I love you" is met with silence or a dismissive hum in the moment. But you'll find your clothes are folded neatly and tucked away when they get piled up. If you're tired, your alarm is mysteriously set an hour later than you had set it the night before. He'll deny any involvement, but his scent is everywhere.
I don't think he'd ever truly say it to you- even when you wouldn't remember. But you could almost hear it in the subtle purrs that rumble from his chest. Feel it in the way his teeth worship your throat. He'd say he wouldn't want to break you when he treats you like glass in the depths of his tent, away from prying eyes. And that's enough for you.
Laughing Jack loves sweet things so much he always has some kind of candy with him at all times. Silly clown loves his candies and anything sweet, it's a miracle he hasn't already gotten some form of diabetes--though you're not too sure he can really even get that, not being affected entirely by ‘normal’ things like that. He doesn’t function by normal rules. He doesn’t sleep properly. Doesn’t eat properly. Doesn’t even bleed properly. So diabetes might not exactly be on the table for him.
Jack always has some, no matter the occasion, often in pockets. His pockets — which you are fairly certain do not obey the laws of physics — seem bottomless. Hard candies in twisted wrappers. Caramels stuck together in pairs. Neon lollipops. Taffy that stretches obscenely long when he pulls it free. Sometimes he produces things you’ve never even seen sold in stores, colorful and glossy and suspiciously glowing under certain lighting that he pops into his mouth.
You’ve watched him pull out piece after piece after piece without ever running out.
However, he hates bitter tasting things. Furthermore, he hates coffee. HATESSSSS coffee.
Like, with a burning passion. The only way he'll drink it is if it tastes like diabetes in a cup and even then it needs to be SWEET. He will dump so much goddamn sugar into it, it's criminal, it's dubious, it's diabolical and he's lucky he's not something who can get any diseases from it.
But luck isn’t on his side when life gives him a lover who is a total coffee addict. You can’t stay away from it, you’ve always got some kind of bitter tasting black coffee. No cream, no milk, no sugar.. Just black. It's bitter, it's gross but you like it and Jack despises it.
The first time you brought a cup near him, he recoiled like you’d held up holy water.
“It smells wrong, Sugar.” He insists, voice whiny. “It tastes like.. like burnt dirt. Like misery brewed in a ceramic mug.”
“You’re dramatic.” You roll your eyes at his theatrics. But he’s stubborn and refuses to drink even a drop unless it tastes like liquid candy — and even then he eyes it suspiciously.
And unfortunately for him, you always have it. Morning cup. Afternoon refill. Late-night mug.
He loves you, because duh of course he does. How couldn’t he? You’re fascinating and warm and you laugh at his jokes and you let him drape himself over you like some oversized, monochrome parasite.
He just doesn't like that when he kisses you he can taste that blasted coffee lingering on your lips and cannot STAND it. That bitter old taste that he just can’t get past because it isn’t something that’s enjoyable to his own tastebuds.
He’ll lean in, eager and grinning, press his mouth to yours — and then immediately stiffen.
Coffee.
That roasted, burnt-bean, coffee.
But he can’t bring himself to stop kissing you. Even if he really hates it.
Instead, Jack merely finds his way around it. So he starts giving you random candy's and just.. waits for you to eat it before giving his dear smooch. He may still taste a little bit of the coffee, but the candy overpowers it.
You don’t understand why he’s doing it, not yet. You assumed maybe he was trying to be nice or just wanted to share a candy. But now he’s almost always handing off candies and staring at you until you pop it into your mouth and finish it.
One afternoon, after he hands you yet another crinkling wrapper, you finally stop.
The candy rests in your palm as you look up at him.
“Why do you keep giving me these?” you ask, eyebrow raised. The wrapper crackles softly between your fingers. “You trying to rot my teeth or something?”
“Whaaaat?” Jack stretches the word dramatically, hand flying to his chest in mock offense. “I’d never!”
You squint at him. “Then why?”
He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he folds his arms behind his back and leans down slightly, bending at the waist so his face hovers closer to yours. His grin is wide. Too wide. Amused in that way that means he thinks he’s clever.
“You know,” he begins casually, “I don’t like coffee too much.”
“And?” you reply flatly. “How is that relevant?”
He tilts his head. “I like to kiss you.”
You blink. “…Okay??”
He straightens, grin widening impossibly. “But when I do,” he sing-songs mid exlaination, leaning in again, “You taste like coffee. Bitter.”
You roll your eyes, finally unwrapping the candy just to shut him up. “So you’re bribing me with sugar.”
“Enhancing,” he corrects immediately. “Improving the experience.”
You pop it into your mouth.
He visibly perks up.
And there it is — that expectant look. That slight lean forward. That patient-but-not-really patience.
You narrow your eyes at him slowly. “..You’ve been pre-flavoring me.”
“I prefer to think of it as marinating.”
“Unbelievable.”
“And yet,” he hums, “you’re still eating the candy.”
You swallow. The sweetness lingers on your tongue. Jack cups your face with exaggerated tenderness and kisses you — slow this time. Testing.
And when he pulls back, he sighs contentedly. “Much better.”
Even if there’s still the faintest trace of coffee beneath the sugar, he doesn’t pull away this time. Because he hates coffee. But he loves you more than his hatred towards the beverage.
