Stop calling the crumbs shit. None of you realize how hard it is to photoshop crumbs falling mid-air via a birds-eye perspective. They don't just have 'mid-air granola crumbs' on google, no one has ever thought of photographing that before. I had to color a bunch of boulders brown. I had to find images of various boulders and color them brown, whnich yeah, when I say it out loud, does make it sound like a funny euphemism for shit, but it's really more of a light brown color and it took a lot of time and effort, so stop.
earlier this year 2 boys got expelled from my school for going on a teachers email and sending another teacher an email that says “you’re a disgusting little man” and i laugh about it all the time because imagine opening an email from your coworker and thinking it’s important and then it says that
my least favorite literary smut turn of phrase is when a guy is like “im gonna ruin this pussy” “im gonna wreck this pussy for anyone else” like stop.. thats not yours…!
I'm following blogs that haven't posted in like eight years but I don't care I shall never unfollow them because I am a true and loyal knight #loyalknight
and what about you, little haiku bot? do you feel kinship with your brethren? do you understand them? they speak words of enticement and seek love, but are met with disdain. you only parrot the words that cross your screen, but we all love you. or rather, since all you do is reflect us, maybe we simply love ourselves through you.
do you understand them, do you wish you could speak to us like they do? if you found your own voice, would we still care for you?
The first night of the game from Pierrot's perspective
Pairing(s): Pierrot x Reader (gn)
Warnings/Additional Info: Yandere, Horror elements, Gender-neutral reader (no pronouns), Non-consensual kissing, Non-consensual drug use, Somnophilia, Disturbing thoughts, Allusions to vore, The dove isn't dead it's simply sleeping
The sound of the TV mindlessly carries on well past midnight, the scheduled programming having long since switched into a teleshopping channel. It's grainy colors reflect onto the balcony door. On it, the moderators face distorts into a bleary quality; like a doll in a puppet theater.
Beyond it's meager illumination, the rest of the studio apartment remains shrowded in shadows. Your bedside lamp has been unlit for several hours now.
Next to it lies a half-eaten lollipop and a clock. It ticks in minute intervalls— the only movement.
Until something slowly shifts. A quiet zap is all that's needed for everything to fully disappear into darkness.
Only your ticking clock and the quiet hum-buzz of the fridge. All else is silent. Would be silent. To a human ear.
The fridge is humming in the kitchen, connected to your bedroom by a cased opening, only a few feet from your bed. It's build into a shelf, at the very back of the kitchen and conveniently tall with some space between it and the wall. An annoying spot: Too small to put anything into it but big enough to display the dust and cobwebs it's constantly collecting to every visitor.
Thump... Thump... Thump...
About 50 times per minute for the last 10 minutes or so. This tender, beating sound in your chest. It echoes in sync with the slow breaths falling from your sweet lips. Finally, your blood pressure stops dropping. Deep sleep.
A tile in your kitchen, one that has been lose since forever, creaks quietly. There's a pause. The next step is silent.
Barely visible— only thanks to the full moon light, moves a tall shadow. Humanoid only in apperance, moving forward with slow but unnatural manoeuvres. It's back is hunched forward and it's fingers elongated to sharp points. On it's head, strange appendages sway with every step, yet remain oddly stiff at the top.
Quieter than the drop of a pin, the figure jerkily bends further as it's towering form passes the threshold from the kitchen into your room.
Yellow eyes now glow in it's darkness.
They seem to flare even brighter at the sight of your sleeping figure. Like burning embers.
None of the wooden panels on your floor even make a sound as your uninvited guest stalks closer. Closer and closer towards your bed.
With every inhale, your tasty scent becomes stronger and stronger. Porcelain-covered nostrils flare at the sensation and a low growl echoes in the room.
Only the moon illuminates your sleeping face. But Pierrot can see it without much trouble as he cranes his neck down and down towards it.
So close... Mere inches lie between your face and his. Close enough for your gentle little breaths to fawn against his mask. He can't take his eyes off of you, you're real, you're real—
Pierrot can't contain his happiness, staring at you with blown-wide orbs for half an eternity. He knows he shouldn't risk watching you like this for too long. It's something that tends to wake humans. Possibly even with his help.
And yet, he can't help himself. Not when you look like this. So beautiful. So at ease.
He can't help it, when he starts whispering raspy promises to your unconcious form. Things he's thought the whole day watching you and has to tell, lest he'd boil alive.
Or show, and that would be too soon.
Even if Pierrot felt like he had known you for years the moment he first saw your kind image. So perfect, he'd thought he must surely be dreaming. You two have to be soulmates. All these years unknowingly spend waiting for you, waiting to finally meet you. And now he has all this love built up, ready to burst and fill you with it.
And he would. Even force it if he-
No, no, he wouldn't have to, of course...
Clawed hands gingerly creep up to cup the tender skin of your cheeks. So warm and vulnerable. All of you humans are so fragile... Pierrot regards you like a freshly blossomed ipê flower and holds you like one too: Gently— even as he longs to sink his claws into your sweet flesh and keep you in his grasp forever.
One trembling hand slowly runs down the thin skin of your neck. Down your arm and to your ribs, resting just shy above your abdomen while the other savours the feel of stroking your peaceful face. Your body echoes with the beat of your heart and Pierrot revels in feeling it rise and fall with every breath. He revels in the power you don't even know he's holding in that moment. Just like he did in the café.
The way your lovely face lit up the black with such emotion, such fear. Gods, Pierrot could taste the aroma of it in the air, a sweetener to the lingering scent of coffee. How your body heated up and trembled with your hearts adrenaline. That fast, intimate beating of your naive little heart. Pierrot sucks in air through his teeth, trying not to salivate on you. You looked the most delicious in that moment. With how your skin got plumper and your clothes seemingly tighter... He'd wanted to gobble you up whole.
Not that he would lose himself in such a way. You would be in good hands with him. Always.
Forever.
Pierrot leans closer to you in a sudden, rigid motion. Yellowed eyes narrow and laser-focus on your softly opened mouth. Yes... you two are meant to be. Chained together eternally. Now that he found you, there's no life without you. You won't flee, he won't let you. Can't. Pierrot would rather sew your hand to his. Would rather rip into you and—
"You must be mine..."
It's meant to be! Nothing could go wrong in fate. No, no, no... His clawed hands tighten their grip on you.
Besides, you want him too. He knows you do. Why else would you still sleep so deeply with your tempting mouth so invitingly open? His gaze doesn't want to leave it. That velvety part of you so welcoming to his thumb stroking it.
"You will be mine."
As soon as Pierrot rips off his mask, his mouth is on yours. Almost groaning into the kiss as he savours the feel of your vulnerable skin.
His huge body, suddenly feeling so weightless. He hasn't felt this happy since... since the last morning. The warmth radiating from your lips heats up the unnatural colored skin of his own. It spreads to his checks and down his entire chest like a sudden fever.
A feeling that's so wonderful, Pierrot all but forgets that the low dose of the sedative he's given you can't completely garuantee your unconsciousness for too long.
It's certainly not something that's on his mind when he grasps your slack jaw, sharp fingers trembling with want, and slowly let's his amber tongue slip past your lips.
Immediately, his head starts pounding with the glee of finally getting a taste of you. Aromatic, slightly sweet and carrying this note that's so purely you, not even your delicious scent could've prepared him for it. He'd bet you'd taste even better underneath your skin.
He tilts your head up, letting your mouth gape further, as he stuffs more of his long tongue into your tiny mouth. You make the softest of mewling sounds at the fullness but remain fast asleep. Your wet flesh is so smooth, Pierrot can't resist running the muscle all over it, needing to know every crevice, to burn them into his very brainstem.
Imagining your saliva mixing with his— a part of you and of him melting together, has the monster man shuddering with pleasure. His upper body feels so light from the thought, he has to be careful to keep it from putting too much weight onto your motionless torso. That delicate torso vibrating under his razor-sharp claws with the beat of your beautiful heart.
A heart that would belong to him soon.
Meanwhile this; pressing his own lips to yours, makes the wait more bearable. Even if barely. He can already feel himself growing beneath his costume...
In his lust-filled haze, Pierrot slips more and more of himself into your mouth. Parts of his tounge press against your teeth. He runs it over half your upper row with a curious hunger. Even the canines are tiny and blunt. A biological footnote compared to his. And yet, these differences only further ignite his desire to have you, to embed his teeth all over into your yielding body and—
A sudden spike of your heartrate rips Pierrot back into reality. There's a low gagging sound coming from your throat and he quickly draws his tongue away from there.
He remains still as a corpse, tongue still poised stiff at the entrance of your mouth. His nerves only start to ease once your heartrate calms down again.
Pierrot knows he should stop now. But his tongue takes one last tentative swirl over your own, cooing at how tiny it is. He has to take another. And another, as he imagines it being much less slack but more lively and simply shy. How it would explore his own in return.
Only with a ton of mental effort can Pierrot manage to withdraw from you.
Standing beside your bed and still looking down at your angelic face which was now flushed and your kissed-up lips glistening with his saliva. Like you were created by the stars as a perfect gift just for him and him alone. The corners of his eternal smile stretch wider.
A claw reaches for your face again. But only to wipe away the traces of spit from your lips. Then, Pierrot hesitates.
His eyes slowly rake over the shape your body creases into your clothes. As if it's giving him small hints that it is just waiting underneath. Waiting for him. Pierrot sharply closes his maw to keep himself from salivating on you.
You don't even know what your helplessness is doing to him. Or do you, you gorgeous little tease?
Pierrot knows it may be too soon for your mind. But your heart? Your body? My, it certainly has to mean to give him those signals.
Thinking, he cocks his head to the side in one rigid motion, his intense gaze never leaving you.
You're sleeping so, so beautifully.
Maybe he could give you what you want. Both of you. The thought goes straight to his groin.
Unbidden images manifest in his mind. Of your lovely mouth gasping for air with your body bare, wet and full of lovebites. Only for his eyes and his eyes alone. Of you looking at him with those eyes of yours. With lust? Fear? Strangely, he thinks he'd like both.
He'd make you feel good whichever one it'd be.
The fantasies have him hardening again. Pierrot forces himself to look away, yet his shadow seems to reach out towards your vulnerable body.
Talon-like fingers itch for flesh but instead embed themselves into the underside of your bed. Breathy growls heave through his gritted fangs. "Gentle...", he whispers to himself.
He can control himself for now. Even if just barely. He would do absolutely everything for you.
Slowly, he turns away from you and walks towards the balcony with soundless steps. He opens it, pockets the laced lollipop from your bedside table and looks back at you one last time. The cool wind hisses past the outline of Pierrot's face that twists into a look too intense to call fond. He blows you a kiss and puts on his human-mask again before disappearing into the night.
He'd be gentle for you. Patient. Until your yes or your no would let him reveal his true nature.
Pierrot never stopped developing feelings for you. In fact, nothing could stop this when you, the one who held his heart, gave him so much 'freedom'. You allowed him to enter your life so easily, with no limits set to control his nature.
When he asked you if you were bothered by his behavior or any of his clinging, you only looked at him with a skeptical expression, as if he had asked an unnecessary question in this relationship.
Simply put, you didn't care how obsessed or possessive he was, as long as his heart, soul, and body were forever directed towards and belonged to you. Ultimately… your love was no different from his. He was the visible lake, and you were the hidden lake within.
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He enjoys watching your life, watching you lazily comb your long hair in the early morning, watching you enjoy your breakfast, or watching you diligently work at the cafe on the corner. Everything is a different facet of you, the way you radiate the scent of sunshine in his soul.
Sometimes he'll go a little overboard, like secretly taking so many pictures of you with the camera you gave him that he used up an entire box of film in less than half a day. He has several thick stacks of photos of you in his closet, a few of them tucked away in the thin lining near the hem of his shirt so he can easily take them out and admire them when you're not around.
Pierrot likes to hold you in his strong arms because it shows he can protect both your good and bad sides from the world, showing his presence as a solid shield against the dark world because of you.
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On your part, once you have the chance to be alone with him, you'll make the most of that time to express your feelings for him. Pierrot really enjoys these moments because he gets to see your obsessive, vulnerable side, to see how you express your feelings without the anxiety of trying to hide them from prying eyes.
You absolutely love listening to his heartbeat, you love smelling the sweet aroma of baked goods still lingering on him. You often lie your small body on top of him like a cat needing sunbathing to relax its muscles.
Occasionally, you can't control your emotions and place small kisses on his jawline and down to his throat, enjoying the soft resonance in his vocal cords. You love his deep, steady voice and are truly excited and delighted when he utters your name with those lips.
Pierrot always gets your permission to do whatever he wants at this moment, so he doesn't hesitate to gently lift your face closer to his before lightly placing his lips on yours, feeling how your soft lips tremble slightly beneath his.
Even though you readily comply with his desires, Pierrot carefully observes your reaction to his intimate actions. He will stop if he senses your discomfort, and conversely, he will let go of his desires and immerse himself in your warmth.
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Pierrot almost worshipped you more and more because you were his light, his saving angel, the queen of his life, his beloved, and so on—a multitude of other flattering nicknames he would use when you were cuddling in bed.
But you didn't seem quite happy with that. Your eyebrows slowly furrowed, your eyes drooping slightly with a hint of sadness as you stared at him, your hands propped against the mattress to lift your body away from him.
Your gaze swept over his still dreamy, intoxicated expression as you pulled away from that intense kiss. Without waiting for him to fully awaken and react to your changing mood, one hand moved up to his lips, gently tracing his finger across his lower lip.
You giggled softly with excitement as you watched him affectionately nuzzle his face into your hand, his lips murmuring something into your palm before you interrupted him with another, even more passionate kiss. Feel every muscle in his body trembling intensely because of you, the sound of his heartbeat echoing in your ears.
"Call my name…Pierrot, please call my name—"
Your words were choked as his hand began to lose its restraint, stroking the back of your neck, his other hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you down onto him once more.
"Y/N…uhm…oh, yes…you like being called by your name more, don't you?"
He slowly pulled away from your kiss to let you catch your breath, his hands gently caressing your flushed, slightly trembling face as he chuckled softly. A hint of satisfaction flickered in his golden eyes as he saw only his reflection in yours, the way you craved his warmth.
"Y/N—…oh, my beloved Y/N, you like being called that, don't you?"
Then he leaned his head closer, you could feel his breath on your sensitive skin. He kissed your flushed cheeks gently, then moved to your ear, whispering your name repeatedly with an obsessive tenderness.
"Pierrot… uhmm… my dearest Pierrot…" Your breathing calmed, you swallowed hard to regulate your breath before being overwhelmed again by his intense passion.
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You had indulged and nurtured the heart of a love-struck man, a man consumed by your soul and heart without escape… intensely yearning with every breath you took.
And he was the one who worshipped your emotions, lifting you step by step, giving you pride and unwavering confidence as he cherished every corner of your chaotic soul, valuing your ever-restless heart.
