HII! How would King Jestyn react if the reader suddenly stopped coming to work? (Let's say they're somehow in another city or something)
He doesn't and would not take it well tbh.
The other puppets didn't have as much fun at all. Wizzy, Knighter, even Prieston himself were tense the days following your absence. The maids whisper to each other as they sneak a glance at their king, still sat upon his throne. His expression grim, and his form rigid. He was more snappier those two days. Impatient with his servants that even just a stare alone made majority of the courtiers flee from his sight.
Do kindly read this and this and look me in the eyes, because there's sadly no sure-fire way of escaping this man. There is nowhere in the world where he can't find you. And there is nothing to stop him from simply manifesting you right where you're supposed to be, with him.
Now the real trouble is explaining yourself to Jestyn, because he does not handle disloyalty from you well.
You'll be given little time to explain because in three long strides, Jestyn towers over you as his clawed hand ruthlessly grips your chin and forces you to meet his gaze. Red is all you see when his eyes pierce you, his voice low and inhuman, a growl building in his throat, "Where were you?"
Any form of rebellion and escape is a hit to his heart that hurts because he entrusted it to you. He will not be happy, he will be expecting you to earn his forgiveness - and you should be grateful for the mercy he grants you, because he would not do the same for anyone else.
So when you reason and tell him why you left, you can only watch and pray your king calms down. His pupils shrink as small as pinpricks, his vice grip on you threatening to sink into your skin before finally, he relents. And in one rapid motion, buries you into his chest. You gasp, expecting him to attack, to slice your throat and leave you to bleed — but no, he embraces you firmly against him.
He waited, he tells you. He tried to be patient. When a day became two, and then three, he couldn't take it anymore. All he wanted was you. You do not respond, simply letting him hold you close as the silence weighs heavy.
By the end of the day you find your form littered in bruises from his tight grip and a stubborn king that WILL follow you home if you insist on not coming back to the theater yet. Or he just won't listen to you and bring you to the theater anyway.
I imagine one of his main requirements for you is to NEVER be far from his reach when you begin your early days as his jester. He will allow you to wander, to temporarily be away, but you must NEVER leave him in anyway shape or form. That is your duty to your king.
Expect that after this occurrence, you will be teleported more often against your will. The king becomes extra clingy and protective for the next month or so. His crimson red gaze constantly stuck and observing your tells, watching the shape of your smile and the crease of your eye for any indication of you thinking of leaving.
I imagine this behavior passes over time thankfully ^^' the important part is communicating with your king and informing him at least of your travels or if you have any future commitments that will take you from him. He will understand, to a degree. I mean he's not happy about it, but he'd rather you tell him than him ripping the world apart to find you.
KOM Jestyn belongs to @thepipiuw !! AU belongs to An0nymous-C !!
Game: Kingdom of Marionettes
Relationship: Jestyn x Reader
Word Count: 1.1k
A/N: Pipi answered an ask about Jestyn's tongue, and I could not resist writing something goofy.
Warning: That tongue is long.
Summary: Jestyn and you have gotten romantic, but he has refused more than simple kisses for... whatever reason. But you know what they say, curiosity killed the cat.
You have maintained the job you expected to be “slightly freaky and underwhelming” for about a month now. Well, you have learned that the job you possessed was very freaky, but hey! You have a new… relationship? Friendship? Partner? Honestly, you had no idea what to call Jestyn. It’s not like you could introduce him to your folks or take him out on a proper date. The theater has rules that must be followed. No one knows that better than your court jester.
You were sure at least a few of them revolved around his intimacy with you. You knew he broke some of those rules; after all, kissing and fawning over the reigning noble tended to be against the status quo, but he followed some of those rules to a fault. For example, he never allowed a kiss to go too deep. You couldn’t find a way to snake your tongue into his mouth for a passionate make-out session, nor has he ever tried doing that with you. You’ve protested before, and all he had to say was “we would get too carried away, my Liege.” The problem is, you wanted to get carried away. He knew it. You knew it. All the puppets in the damn theater knew it. But, alas, no making out. Certainly nothing further. Think about the scandals! The gossip the maids would tell would be legendary.
You think Jestyn’s words about getting “too carried away” are a crock of shit. He stares at you like a lion stares at antelope when he thinks you’re not looking. You’ve even caught him drooling once or twice. You may have desires, sure. But Jestyn has something else entirely. Your leading theory is that he is self conscious about his tongue. He has stuck it out only a handful of times when he lands an especially good prank. The last time he did it was when the two of you replaced one of Knighter’s books with erotica. Jestyn stuck his tongue out at Knighter during the latter’s tirade about how disturbing the first few pages were to him and how no one should indulge such "filth".
In your… lapse of judgement… you stared at his tongue for a bit too long. You knew it was black and inhumane, that comes with the territory. What did it feel like? Does he taste food the same way you do? Does his saliva taste like anything? When he caught you staring, he blushed brighter than average from embarrassment and hasn’t stuck it out since. It was quite a shame, too. You were really curious about how it worked.
For your one month anniversary at the theater, Jestyn decided to celebrate with a magic show: no monarchy duties required. It was all in good fun as you two bantered and hid flirtations in your jests. The last trick of the show was a fairly simple trick: the “coin behind the ear” trick. He bounced a silver coin from one hand to the other, letting it vanish then reappear in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, he lost the coin. Jestyn checked his clothing and pockets to find… nothing.
“Did you take my coin somehow, your Majesty,” he cooed as he made his way to your throne.
You, in a fit of theatrics, also checked your pockets, “no coins here, my friend. Maybe it slipped beneath the-”
Your face got flush when his got close to yours. You could feel his breath on your ear. Jestyn was way too close if he wanted to pull the coin out from behind your ear like a normal trick.
“I don’t see it behind your ear, my Liege. I wonder where it’s gone,” he purred with words that smelled of wine.
Jestyn placed his arm on your shoulder as he circled your throne. Once he made his way back to you, he dramatically sat on your lap, sighing in defeat. After his dramatics, Jestyn moved to face you.
“Guess I’ll have to rummage the throne,” he smirked while placing his hands behind you, embracing your waist.
The two of you got caught up in a staring contest, silently wondering where this would lead. He smirked before looking down. His puppet hand then started to move to investigate one of your pant pockets, revealing an empty hand when he found nothing. He slowly moved from pocket to pocket, noting every time one came up empty before his hand got close to your neck.
“I doubt I can hide any coins in my collar, Jestyn,” you laugh.
He shrugged before tugging at your collar, pulling you forward. Your lips intertwined with his as his grip on your waist tightened, ensuring you didn’t fall. He let his other hand play with your hair. This kiss seemed longer than what you were used to, but today was special. Who cares?
That’s when he bit your lip. You yelped in disbelief, granting him the opportunity to finally break one of his “sacred rules.” Your mouth was engulfed by his tongue. It wriggled and writhed in so many ways, claiming your mouth as its next meal. You tried keeping up, you really did. It’s just that his tongue was massive, and you were not used to it. That, and he had impeccable control over it. Whatever was happening, it was passionate and glorious. You never wanted it to end, but your lungs were playing a losing game. If things were to continue for much longer, you would likely faint. You reached for his hat and gave the bells a playful hit, alerting him that you needed to let go soon. As the kiss wound down, you tasted a hint of metal. Did he cut you in the process? You didn’t feel like you were bleeding. He chuckled darkly as he let the kiss end.
He looked right at you as he unfurled the massive tongue that just attacked your mouth. It was longer than the sides of his hat, and you wanted to ask how he even fit that thing in your mouth when he revealed a smaller version of the coin. His mouth curled into a devious grin when you got a good look at it all, only to make an innocent face as he laughed, dropping the coin to the ground.
“Oh! It appears it was in your mouth, my Liege. I’m glad we could get things sorted.”
You chuckled as you stood up from the throne, lightly smacking his hat again.
“Glad you could find it, Jestyn,” you hold both of his hands and smile that big ol’ smile that melts his wooden heart. “Thank you for tonight. This has been one of the best months I’ve had in a while.”
He squeezed back, a bit tighter than anticipated. “And here’s to the many months to come, my Liege.”
You let each other go and exit stage left while he stands silently on the stage thinking about all the ways he could test your limits going forward. If he can break that “rule,” what’s stopping him from breaking them all?
I heard you opened some request like kom!, can i request headcanon jestyn with an mc who accepts Jestyn as he is and isn't even afraid or insulting him when they're finds out his true form? :]
I heard the canon, jestyn hate himself so why not giving him some attention that someone like mc care for him and accept him hehe (he need more love >:3!!)
Please... Don't look at me.
Oneshot
WC :: 1.6K
Warnings :: Self Degrading, Mentions of Death/destructive thoughts, Mentions of CROWNUS.
NOTE :: Your idea was too good kiromoo that i turned a headcanon fic to a whole Oneshot story..PLEASE DON'T SMITE ME I GOT CARRIED AWAY I HAD TOO MUCH FUN
KOM belongs to @thepipiuw and is an 18+ Game, Please do not interact/play the game if you are a minor. Thank you! <3
🥀 You just wanted to get your job done with, Jestyn was waiting for you as always and probably excited as always to see you again in the Kingdom. His Majesty, His everything that his porcelain body has.
🥀 Speaking of Body, From the beginning when you first started working there and discovered that the puppets were alive. Jestyn stood out to you from the rest that you've seen.
🥀 There were big cracks from his arm where his shoulder begins and ends on his right side, wich it seems like there is a form underneath the puppet that's hiding. It was a black figure with red details it seems, Since his right arm is black and his fingers are sharp.
🥀 And his face, His face was cracked at the right side of his mouth where you can see more of the light blood red color from his body. But this time it's his teeth, Wich are incredibly sharp looking and stuck in a permanent cheshire grin. You can't tell if he can't help it, or if it's permanently like this.
🥀 You chewed on your bubblegum to ease your mind as you drove to your "kingdom" to check on everybody and do your job as usual. Check the cameras and check on the puppets, and say hello to your favourite. The puppet that Raised so many questions inside of you. Jestyn.
🥀 Little did you know, That your usual visit to the Jester was gonna turn oh so differently than The last days. And what you were gonna see when you finish your job.
🥀 Jingling your kees, You make yourself ready to step into the kingdom and walk to your office. Your footsteps already feel as if you belong here, even if it's just a Job for you. There's something...Homey that draws you in, especially after Jestyn has been somewhat kind to you..And devoted.
🥀 Regardless you put your bag on the bed that was in the security room for some reason and start walking around the place. Sweeping the floors occasionally but mostly hoping to run into anybody today, It was a rough day and you wanted to unwind.
🥀 But as you were sweeping and cleaning the floor, you noticed something that caught your attention. A small white chip was laying on the floor.
🥀 As you got closer to inspect whatever the foreign object was, you came to the realization that it was a piece of porcelaij. A piece of porcelain that didn't look like it just fell off, No. It looked ripped as if someone was aggressively tearing a puppet to shreds.
🥀 Ripping a puppet to shreds... Oh dear, You're starting to get a strange feeling in your chest that something is going on and were too late to stop it, even if you're most likely much weaker than whatever these puppets secretly were.
🥀 But you were stubborn, So investigation was one of the options that seemed semi safe. Plus if something were to happen Jestyn would step in and teleport you away from the chaos. Right?.. He's still loyal and devoted to you no? Atleast you hope so for whatever is going to happen.
🥀 Your footsteps were now moving to the direction of the rooms from the puppets to see if everyone was alright, and soon enough you were met with the 6 doors to the puppets rooms that you were familiar with by now.
🥀 Oddly enough, all of the puppets were in their rooms except 2. The king who wasn't here since day 1 anyways because they're dead as Jestyn mentioned..But Jestyn himself wasn't there. Probably roaming around the theater again, might aswell check on him right? maybe he knows what happened.
🥀 So once again you start walking around the Kingdom, passing door after door until you find the entrance to the theater. But before you can even open those wooden doors that used to be painted with a hint of gold accents, You saw it beneath you.
🥀 there was a whole pile of Broken porcelain on the ground...all white and joints laying around, scattered as if they were hastily torn off..but that wasn't even the worst part. There was a full arm on the ground, and it wasn't any puppet arm. It was Jestyns. clear as day.
🥀 God... What the hell happened here. you hoped this day will be better, that today you were gonna ask Jestyn questions about him and form a stronger bond...Is..Is he dead? no he can't be dead! you're too stubborn to just think he died like that and leave you behind!
🥀 Gently you place your foot next to the porcelain that once belonged to jester and pushed it aside to not get stuck in the doors that you're opening to reveal the dark theater in search of your Jester that loved you so dearly.
🥀 Scanning the Theater, you could barely see anything but darkness. The lights were all off for some reason. The last time and your first time the lights were always on, You wonder how high the electric bill must be anyways with how long these things stayed on.
🥀 But your eyes spotted something slowly moving near the curtains of the stage, a mysterious dark entity with red black eyes and a red cheshire grin and dark horns. It almost looked like some kind of demon you'd see in comics about hell itself.
🥀 But you knew who this "demon" is. Jestyn. And the voice coming from the demon entity definitely proves your point on that thought rather quickly than expected.
"Y-your majesty..Please.. Don't look at me.."
🥀 That voice that ince spewed his utmost devotion and loyalty to you, the same voice that could mock someone for the littlest thing and full of smugness. Was now Bitterly sad and Scared, Like a little kitten surviving through the rain during it's toughest days.
🥀 It was no doubt that this entiry was your Jestyn who is now cowering from the world, so scared and isolated wich seems to be from his own doings. you felt so sad.
🥀 Not out of pity or spite, Genuine sadness. He was trying to hide from the world after whatever happened to his puppet body, and you weren't there when it happened to comfort him and be by his side, like the many times you were at his.
🥀 When you took a cautious step forward towards the stage, Jestyn flinched and you could hear a light sob coming from him. a sob you've never heard from all of your days working here.
"Jestyn sweetheart... It's okay..Im not going to hurt you or run away..Please my dear..Tell me what happened?"
🥀 You take another cautious step forward, But raise both of your hands slightly to let him know you're not armed or anything and that you really won't hurt him. You knew he was stronger than you, But with how vulnerable he is right now. You bet he needed to hear that, even if he's devoted to you.
🥀 Afterall, you ARE seeing him at his lowest point right now given to how exposed he is and scared he is..God you wish you could just hug him right now and give him a little forehead kiss.
"Im a Monster MC...Im Disgusting and and..and.."
🥀 Jestyn tries to justify and explain whatever is happening right now, But it's cut off by his sobs and small hiccups during his speech. He's slowly cracking and breaking down, Scared your's going to abandon him. That there'll be another Crownus incident.
🥀 He expected it fully. You're gonna call him ugly and gross, run away or shove him away as you should have. But you didn't. you stayed by his side and opened your arms. You didn't pull him into a hug, You invited him to one that he can always decline or accept.
🥀 oh sweet tart and cream...His Majesty is too good for him, treating such inhuman creature with such kindness and care feels almost too good..He doesn't deserve you he thinks, that he should've Died long ago. But he hasn't, and now he is here.
🥀 He is here, in your arms sobbing into your chest as if he were a mere villager. He shouldn't be doing this to his Majesty, a mere Jester clinging to them as if he was on the same level as you. But you didn't push him away at all. nor did you ask any invasive questions.
🥀 You let him sob, let it all out. and gave him a chance to get out of your embrace at any given time, You only showed the kindness that you FEEL towards him. Not some kindness some may feel obligated to show, no. Your's was pure and real. And he valued that a lot.
🥀 So the new royalty and their devoted Jester spend their time together on the stage away from everyone else. clinging to each other until one of you passed out, and surprisingly it was Jestyn who did. But you didn't leave him here on the stage.
🥀 You waited, and watched him sleep. watched his dark chest rise and wiped away the nearly dried tears off of his cheeks and caressed them as if they were the finest jewels that need to be polished.
🥀 Perhaps the Jester of this kingdom has finally found the one, The most suitable Royalty for the kingdom that they always desired wich crownus ultimately ruined for him. His Soulmate. MC. Until Death do them part.
I gotta stop turning Headcanon asks into Full oneshots bro yalls ideas are TOO GOOD to pass out on. 😭🙏
If you want a headcanon version still please hit up my Inbox and Request again or lmk in the comments IM SORRY
lord have mercy for what im about to write. first smut fic if you even care
gn!reader with female genitalia. MDNI
tags: teasing, love confession, biting, porn w/ feelings
wordcount: 3.3k
This whole thing had been your idea, really.
In summary, you'd stroll in for your night shift, you'd bond with Jestyn, you'd tease him a little, and then you'd leave him wanting a little more than what you gave. He could be so compliant, so submissive, that the idea that he'd do anything other than take it really wasn't fitted within your (in your opinion) already well-developed plan.
You especially, had not been expecting him to take matters into his own hands; And even more than that, you would never have been able to predict the outcome of it, not in a million years.
---
Your hand slowly caresses down Jestyn's cold body, as if examining every inch of him. His corset had been discarded, and his cloak unbuttoned, leaving his front exposed to both your hands' and eyes' ravenousness. The rest of his clothes were permitted to stay on, both too much of a hassle to get out of, and you did rather enjoy the texture of the fabric he wore. You both find yourselves on your bed, with you straddling his thighs as he lays beneath you.
You watch his expression just as much as he watches yours, gauging his reaction to your slow, exploring touches. Pausing your hand's movement, you tenderly rub your thumb on his strangely human-like white skin, both feeling curious and affectionate. You wonder just how fragile it might be, if it could still be like porcelain, or if he's not brittle at all. You press a delicate kiss to his sternum.
Slowly, your hand moves down. You're so focused, you don't even notice the soft silence until he breaks it.
“Your Majesty,” Jestyn breathes, voice soft and almost pleading as you run your palm down his stomach. His cheeks are already a deep red, and you're almost grateful for the visual reminder that you're at least doing something right.
“Yes, my jester?” You say, voice taking on the tone similar to that of a real Monarch, one who's attending to their subjects rather than being intimate in the dark. Hand lowering further down, you thumb at the top of his pants, teasingly dipping your finger beneath the fabric.
“Please,” He accentuates his plea with a subtle upwards shift of his hips, gaze turned directly at you with that desperate look on his face. His upturned eyes look like they're just about ready to roll back.
Oh. You flush, lips thinning as you swear the room's temperature rises. You exhale subtly, tugging ever so slightly at the waistline of his pants. It isn't hard to notice the visible bulge straining against the red and black fabric, though you try your hardest to not grab an eye-full of it.
“Please, what?” You question, praying to whatever puppet God is up there that your voice came across as level.
“Please, can thou declothe me? Can thou touch me?” Jestyn begs. You choose to ignore that hint of sass in his tone and do as he says, since he almost asked nicely. Wrapping your soft fingers around the waistline, you start to pull his pants off, heart pounding in your chest.
You'd never really done anything like this before, to be truthful. The want brimming inside your body had overtaken most rational thoughts, and while you and Jestyn had most definitely been intimate and flirtatious before, it was never quite like this.
His cock springs free.
And what a beautiful thing it is; you can't help but be both in awe and intimidated by the thing. Of course, it's unlike anything you've ever witnessed. You weren't really sure what you were expect from the shadow-puppet-jester with an affinity for scaring you half to death. You shift slightly on his thighs, wanting to clench yours.
Without really thinking it through, you tentatively reach out a curious hand, swiping your finger across the tip. Whatever precum has leaked there is transferred to said fingertip, which you bring to your mouth, giving it a salacious lick.
“Hngh,” Jestyn's hips jerk involtunarily at not just the feeling, but the action as well. You don't think you've ever seen him so lust-hazed before. “My liege, thou will surely kill me at this rate...” He quietly says, voice a whimper.
You blink.
There's a sharp inhale through your nose, and you find yourself very much unable to provide any form of response to your very loving, and way too seductive-for-his-own-good jester. There's a noticable heat that's spread all the way down to your shoulders, and your ears burn. The pounding of your heart is not unlike that of a drum in your ears, and you find it difficult to calm it.
You're so focused on levelling your breathing that you entirely miss the sharpening of a jester's smile and brief moment his eyes turn into narrowed slits. As soon as it happens, it's over, and you get back to your duty being none the wiser.
You give him a few testing, careful pumps with your fist, now observing his face with rapt attention. You note the way his eyes ever so slightly roll back, the darkening flush of his, and most importantly, you don't fail to catch the high, needy noise that leaves his mouth.
Shit, is it just you or did he somehow kick his act up a notch? Your hand releases his dick, instead being used to grip onto his thigh for leverage as you lower your head to level with his erection.
“Nhnnn... Your Majesty,” He practically whines, jolting as you ever-so-delicately trail the tip of your tongue up his shaft. “Please, allow me to service you.”
Your face is so warm, you're sure he can see just how flustured you are by the redness of your cheeks. Fuck, how the hell are you supposed to stay focused if he's acting like this? You briefly shake your head to clear it, brows furrowing as you set your expression to one of determination.
You give a broad stroke with your tongue, and pausing just above his tip—your eyes meet his through your lowered lashes, and you give him just the ghost of a kitten lick across it. You savor his taste for a few moments, before flicking your tongue back out, swirling around the tip but never quite going down. There's a small, victorious feeling at the sight of his absolutely ruined expression.
You freeze, however, at the sound of an almost whorish moan. “Your Majesty, must thou be so cruel? Can thou...” The rest of his sentence is entirely lost on you, muffled behind the absolute arousal that just swept through you. What the hell was that? Now that just feels unfair, he can't do that, can he? Lord, how are you supposed to tease in these conditions? You lean back, opening your mouth-
When suddenly, you find yourself on your back. In the brief panic you gain from displacement, you instinctively flail your hand to gain any sort of understanding of what just happened. That hand finds itself pinned to soft sheets by a much larger, shadowy black hand whose fingertips threaten to tear any fabric gripped with them.
Your eyes stare up into mismatched ones, one eye cracked and black while the other has a sclera of the most romantic red. “Hey,” Did your voice just crack? You see his pupil shift slightly, dipping to glance at your lips before moving back to meet your gaze.
“Your Majesty should never let their guard down, after all...” Jestyn's voice trails off in suspense, and you shudder at the seeming darkness that briefly overtakes his expression. “You never know who might be ready to take advantage of it.”
Hm. If your thighs weren't clenched before, they certainly are now!
Before you can get the chance to respond, his lips capture yours, and you melt. One of his hands comes up to cradle your face gently, while the other seems quite occupied with tugging his pants off. Which it succeeds at, one-handedly. A quite impressive feat, but not one you have the time to marvel at.
No, you're too busy sinking yourself into the feeling of his tongue in your mouth, likely tasting himself on your tongue. It feels like he's everywhere at once, tongue long enough you could probably gag on it: sliding over your teeth, teasing the roof of your mouth, as if marking you from the inside with himself.
Then, as suddenly as it had came, it disappeared. He seperates himself from you, tilting his head back as he pants, actually pants above you, eyes lidded in a way that made him look so endearingly love-drunk.
“My sweet tart and cream,” He rasped, gulping in a breath. He retracts both his hands to his side, dancing his fingers down your waist as he pauses with just one pointer finger dipping beneath the waistline of your pants teasingly. Well, if this isn't familiar.
Silently, he meets your gaze, and you give a nod, granting him your utmost permission. If he wasn't gonna take your pants off first, you were going to do it yourself. With little fanfare, your pants are tugged off and thrown into some indescribable corner of the room, and you shiver as the cold hits your lower body. Your shirt gets pushed up by Jestyn's curious fingers, exposing your stomach. Before he can properly roll it over your chest, however, he lowers his head to give your body a long and slow lick, dragging his tongue from your thigh to the start of your ribcage. The saliva left behind on your skin cools it in combination with the air.
You startle at the feeling of something long and cold slapping against your belly, inciting you to glance down. You gulp, shakily turning your gaze back up to Jestyn's expecting gaze, giving him a nervous smile. His almost-constant grin curls.
“Your Majesty, please, let me fill you with upmost pleasure.” It's barely even a question, neither in tone or phrasing, but you give a shaky "okay" all the same, anticipating him as much as he was you.
His shadowed hands finds yours yet again, clutching it as he grips your waist with the other, raising your hips to meet his. The initial stretch is immense, and you hiss at the hint of pain from his size alone. Squeezing his hand tightly to ground yourself, you note the way he seems to tremble as well. You find yourself extremely grateful for his patience, allowing you to adjust as he slowly pushes in inch by inch. The hand on your waist lowers to between your bodies, finding that little nub of pleasure and rubbing gentle circles on it to help you relax.
“C'mon, my sweet,” He huffs, voice trembling. “Relax yourself for me.”
And you do, with just a little more time, Jestyn finds himself entirely swallowed up by your cunt, and you find yourself with the notable pressure that comes with being filled up so fully. You don't even remember closing your eyes, but you find yourself opening them anyway to look at your jester with a certain kind of adoration only reserved for him.
There's a very subtle shift of his brows, a type of furrow, before he lowers his head down next to yours. The tremble of his body is truly noticable now, and you raise your free hand to wrap around his back.
Slowly, he begins to move. His thrusts are languid, like every movement is coordinated to minimize pain, something that you are eternally appreciative of. His hand squeezes yours, still trembling like a leaf, as he begins to pick up pace, but still keeping that soft feeling to his pumps. You let out quiet moans, whining as he rolls his hips in a particularly pleasing manner.
You feel soft nips at the junction between your shoulder and neck, and without even thinking about it, you subtly raise your chin up to bare your neck further.
“Your Majesty, my Majesty, my liege,” He babbles against your ear, each title spoken with such reverence and adulation one could compare it to the plants speaking of the Sun. “Thank you, thank you, you are so gracious, so benevolent.”
He turns his head to press a light kiss against your cheek, something so gentle and pure acting as a stark contrast to the consistent rutting against your core. You arch your back obligingly to his movements, trying your best to push back against his thrusts.
“Jestyn,” You groan, and it's a noise so guttural, so true, that Jestyn's pace stutters, completely caught off-guard. “Please.” You say, not even quite sure what you're pleading for.
“Please what, your Majesty?” He has the audacity to say, but it seems even he isn't able to keep the tremor from his voice. His hand tightens on the side of your hips, his digits pressing into your skin with such fervour you wonder if he's holding himself back.
“Harder, please,” You moan, fingers squeezing his. “Don't hold back.”
Never let anyone tell you that Jestyn isn't able to take orders. Oh, with the wonderful friction that he immediately creates after your command, he's the furthest thing from it. Giving your clavicle a quick bite, he raises his head to look down at you, pupil quickly shifting around like he was taking in all that you are. His thrusts turn deep and hungry, hips snapping against yours hard enough you're sure you'll have marks left behind the next morning.
In between the sound of your slapping skin with each drive inside your pussy, there is the whimsical, joyous sound of a bell jingling.
And it's here, in this moment, that you realize just how beautiful he is. His darkened blush, the way the dim light hits his face just right, not hiding the cracks in his face, but rather emphasising them—promising stories he'd never tell. The gold of his crown almost shines like the warm sun, his eyes have never been more enchanting than they are right now, and instead of his mouth being menacing, it feels like a part of your life that'd ensure you'd never feel any fear again.
“Jestyn,” You repeat blearily, barely missing the click of his tongue in response. There's a significant coiling tension in your lower back.
“I love you,” You blurt, the words tumbling out between each lungful of air thrusted out of you. “I'm yours, I can't- ah, can't imagine a life, ngh! without you.”
If you thought he was going hard before, he was almost driving himself inside your skin with how frenzied his thrusts were now.
He jackhammers against you, hand leaving yours to use both of his to tightly grip your waist, manhandling you against him. You let out a strangled noise as he somehow manages to fill you even deeper at this angle, digging your fingers into his back as a quick resort in grounding yourself.
“You're mine? Yeah?” He grunts, not even minding your lack of affirmation as he practically pummels you into the bed. His eye is wide with desire, going through multiple full-body trembles as he slides in and out of your heat in an unrelenting tempo.
You let out a sharp, pleasured cry as he hits that peculiar spongy part inside of you, nails clawing at his back. “F-Fuck-! Right there, Jest- Yesss...” You're practically dissolving into a puddle with this change of pace, drooling on the pillow beneath you as he fucks you past coherence.
Quickly, so much quicker than before, you can feel your orgasm approaching, lighting itself like electricity in your abdomen. You don't even need to let Jestyn know, with the way your walls flutter around his cock, he's well aware. His teeth grit as hips stutter, struggling to both keep up the pace and to let you finish first.
Once again, he slumps his head beside you, panting almost directly into your ear. “My liege, please, let go for me.” He gasps, pounding against your g-spot repeatedly, trying his best to encourage you to cum.
And with the way he asks, and his ministrations, there's no way you wouldn't. You come undone with a sound not unlike that of a heated howl, your muscles tensing and body convulsing as you see stars. Shortly after, Jestyn lets out a whine at how tightly your walls clamp down around him, causing his thrusts to immediately stutter as he empties himself inside of you, filling you in a way unlike ever before. As he does, you feel his jaws clamp onto your clavicle, biting down hard, like that was his only way to stay tethered to the current plane. Your eyes clench shut and you grit your teeth, pleasure mixing with pain in an unintelligeble way.
As your climax comes to an end and you twitch in the aftershocks, he gingerly slides out of you, apologizing as you hiss in response to the sudden loss of him; you wish you could've stayed laying there, softly kissing his cheek as he curls around your body like a particularly expressive blanket. You feel trepid, but broad laves at the bite wound on your clavicle, lapping up the small droplets of blood already making their appearance from the marks.
“I'll be right back, my Majesty.” You hear, before feeling that weird feeling of his presence just being.. Gone. You don't think you'll ever get used to his teleportation abilities. As you lay there in your silence, you can't even bother to open your eyes, opting to rest instead. You've well and truly, slumped.
Wow.
“I'm back,” You don't even have the energy to startle at his re-appearance outside of a faint disgruntled huff. Jestyn, at the very least, seems to have taken pity on your prone form and, with a warning beforehand, starts to clean both him and yourself up. You really don't deserve a jester as nice and sweet as him. You'd let him know that if you weren't in such a need of a good nap right now.
There's a dip in the bed beside you, the rustle of sheets, and even without looking, you can just tell he's there, staring at your (probably sweaty) face and fully turned towards you. Slowly, a cold hand begins to slide from your hand and down your arm, not unlike what he did to you the first day you met.
His petting motions then come to a stop, and you almost wonder if he's somehow fallen asleep before his voice breaks the tranquil quiet.
“You meant it, right, your Majesty?”
You let out an inquisitive grunt, taking a couple seconds to wonder about what he was referring to, before your face warms when remembering your frankly lust-drunk confession. Your mouth opens, hesitating on what to say, before you decide it'd be best to bite the bullet rather than try to dodge it. You creak open an eye, peeking at his expression. “Of course I did.”
There's the sound of rustling fabric as you shift in your sheets, laying on your shoulder to face him. You continue, “I love you Jestyn, I love you for all you are. From your, at-times annoying, pranks, to the way you hold me like I'm the one made of porcelain. I could never do anything other than cherish you, not the way a Monarch cherishes their subjects, but the way a heart can't beat without blood.”
You pause for a moment to breathe, words leaving you in spills and jumbles. “I can't imagine a life on my quiet throne without your presence being there to fill the silence.”
...
A moment of silence passes between you. Something quite unusual when in your jester's presence. You watch his lone iris constrict, before expanding in what you hope is delight. As you look closer, you swear you can see a red, heart-shaped pupil—but before it could truly catch your attention, you're suddenly pulled against Jestyn's cold chest, his arms tightly held around you.
“...Can thou grace me with those three peculiar little words again, your Majesty?”
You smile.
“I love you, Jestyn.”
hope the court finds this to their pleasing.... also i wrote this in one sitting because i have college assignments to work on tomorrow :p
character belongs to @thepipiuw ! please check out her stuff, it's gen so cool
Well do you mind if i request Reader x jealousy jestyn
(When reader is talking about their ex?) :]]
Firstly, thank you and secondly.
folks I apologize if I don't resond fast to requests.
"Your majesty?" Jestyn calls, a smidge of curiosity on his face while he nudges your hand then rests his face under it. A slimmer of affection shall suffice after a good hour of tending to the kingdom, even if he believes you should be at the throne and not in the kitchen. He opens an eye when you swipe on your phone, deleting something.
"What are thou fiddling with?" You place your phone aside, uncertain with how to answer.
"...I was deleting photos of my ex, the um, one who took advantage of me and ran off with the money, stood me up." He tilts his head at the way you look, so utterly bitter. Yet, when he saw the photo, it was of you and that so called ex, hugging one another, in such an intimate mannerism.
"Do you, miss this ex?"
"No." Blunt, he likes it and yet, that pitfall feeling made him want to stop you from cooking. So, he stands up from his knees, dusting off any form of rubble then places a hand on your own. Staring at him with those curious eyes, you note the shift in emotion.
"Did it hurt you? Or..."
Silence, what exactly can you tell him? 'Yea my ex was financially abusive and stood me up at our anniversary date.'
"I wasted two years of my life with that thing, so yes I guess my ex did hurt me..." Jestyn likes this answer, based on how his eyes shift into little hearts but it still wasn't enough to negate that pit.
When you finish up with the food for Jestyn, yourself, Knighter and Wizzy, the maids were quick to distribute the food. Jestyn, however, proves to be slightly hardheaded since he wouldn't eat, it was a bit strange to witness your personal Jester stubbornly look away while you offer him hot cocoa.
So, in response to his behavior, you as the ruler, had him sit before you to explain himself. "You're actin mighty stubborn, Jestyn, what is wrong?"
"....Will thou judge their Jester for being green with envy, sweet human?" He rubs your hand slowly, nuzzling it with everlasting adoration.
"Seconds, minutes, hours, days....My body shivers with love for you, every moment we spend together. To see you mourn another when you have me. How cruel..." You rub his face, letting him kiss it a couple times before lifting his chin.
"I don't mourn them; I mourn the time I wasted with my ex when I could have spent them with you." Jestyn blushes, but he doesn't get shy, just too bold to the point where you both end up on the floor. He leans in close with those red, rosy cheeks from being so excited, your lips close to his. He grips the floor, claws now intwined with your soft hands: Hips lips feel cold, yours sweet from the warm hot cocoa, so sweet.
Why would anyone ever leave you? Then again, your ex leaving simply meant you and him can be together. However, it also means he had work to do, yes, his ruler was slighted by someone so minuscule...
He holds your face, pressing another kiss on your cheek, "I'll be right back, my ruler..."
When you watch him leave your lips thin a bit, "Don't try to kill my ex Jestyn, you'll only look suspicious."
"Hmm hmm, As you wish, I shall return." What a silly Jester.
But he's your Jester.
A clever one at that, when the next day occurs you were shocked to see that your ex's house was....
"Jester..."
"Hm..?"
"Did you really fill his house with spiders?" Your glance made the Jester nuzzle into your lap; he was too cute for his own good sometimes.
SFW Pierrot/Jestyn x MC | Crowned in Red and Black
Warnings: None
Masterlist Request
DISCLAIMER All rights reserved.The following work is a product of fiction intended for mature audiences. By proceeding, the reader acknowledges that the actions and philosophies expressed by the characters do not reflect the personal views or morals of the author. This work may not be scraped, fed into, or processed by AI generators for the purpose of creating derivative text, images, or media. No part of this story may be reproduced in any form without explicit written permission by the author, Myukios. (Tumblr/Ao3/Discord)
The room was bathed in the heavy silence of the early hours, broken only by the rhythmic, steady breathing of MC as they slept. Suddenly, a sharp, light snap echoed through the air, vibrating against the walls like a crack of static.
Jestyn appeared at the edge of the bed, his 215 cm frame looming over the sleeping form of MC. He didn't loom with malice; instead, he settled onto the mattress with a grace that felt almost unnatural for his size, the bed dipping under his weight. His movements were fluid, his joints no longer clicking like the porcelain he once was. He leaned in close, his long, black tongue flicking briefly over his lips as he watched the rise and fall of MC’s chest.
"My beautiful Majesty," Jestyn whispered, his voice a flamboyant, melodic hum that vibrated in the quiet room. "The world is so dull when those eyes are closed. I could spend an eternity simply watching the way the dreams dance behind your lids. Use me, command me... even in your sleep, you hold every string of my heart."
He reached out a cold, dark-skinned hand—the black staining his right hand stark against the sheets—to hover just inches from MC's cheek, trembling with a mix of restraint and adoration.
A faint scraping sound came from the balcony.
Pierrot’s massive, 198 cm silhouette blocked the moonlight as he vaulted over the railing and stepped into the room. His movements were ghost-like, a silent predator’s grace that usually remained hidden behind his shy circus persona. His mask, fixed in its eternal, haunting grin, tilted as he took in the scene.
Pierrot didn't hesitate. He stepped further into the room, his sharp claws twitching at his sides. Usually, the circus rules bound his tongue, but here, in the sanctuary of MC’s home, the silence broke.
"Get away from them," Pierrot said. His voice was deeper than his puppy-like demeanor suggested, carrying a jagged edge of possessiveness. He didn't shout, but the weight of his presence filled the space, his eyes fixed on Jestyn’s hand near MC. "They are resting. They don't need a puppet’s chatter."
Jestyn didn't pull his hand away. Instead, he turned his hooded head toward the jester, a wide, playful smirk stretching across his face. He found the intrusion more of a delightful prank than a threat.
"Oh? And I suppose they need a silent stalker from the rafters instead?" Jestyn teased, his voice dripping with flamboyant charm. He shifted on the bed, pointedly staying close to MC's side. "I was just telling Your Majesty how much I belong to them. There is plenty of room for devotion, though I prefer the view from right here."
Pierrot’s breathing changed—a minute shift that only another monster might notice. He loathed the way Jestyn sat so familiarly on the bed. His protective instincts, honed by weeks of watching MC from the shadows, flared white-hot. He moved closer to the foot of the bed, his towering frame casting a long shadow over both Jestyn and the sleeping MC.
"I watch their heart rate," Pierrot murmured, his gaze softening only when it landed on MC. "I know when they are peaceful. You... you are a loud distraction."
The air in the room grew heavy with tension, a silent battle of wills between the flamboyant puppet and the obsessive protector. Neither moved to strike, both far too concerned with MC's comfort to risk a loud confrontation, yet the space between them hummed with the electric energy of two predators claiming the same prize.
Jestyn’s smile only grew wider. "A distraction? Perhaps. But I am the toy they chose to keep. Why don't we see who Your Majesty greets first when they wake?"
MC then shifted beneath the heavy blankets, a soft, low mumble escaping their lips as they turned toward the side of the bed where Jestyn sat. The slight friction of the sheets and the change in their breathing acted like a starting pistol; both monsters snapped their heads toward MC with synchronicity.
Jestyn froze, his hand retracting just enough to remain respectful but staying close enough to feel the warmth radiating from MC’s skin. Pierrot’s posture shifted instantly, dropping from a defensive stance into a slight crouch, his masked face tilting as he analyzed the minute flutter of MC’s eyelids. The room fell into a suffocatingly expectant silence, both of them holding their breath so as not to startle their shared obsession.
When MC didn’t fully wake but instead settled back into a deeper, rhythmic slumber, the tension between the two visitors didn't return to its previous sharp edge. Instead, it smoothed out into a grim, mutual understanding.
"They look so fragile when they sleep," Pierrot whispered, his voice losing its jagged threat and softening into that familiar, puppy-like devotion. "I only want to make sure nothing ever takes that peace away from them."
Jestyn looked at Pierrot, the flamboyant smirk on his face softening into something more contemplative. He looked down at his own dark, puppet-like hands, then back at MC. "A sentiment I find... surprisingly agreeable," Jestyn hummed quietly. "I am a creature designed for their satisfaction—a toy, a servant, a shield. I care little for the world outside this room, so long as Your Majesty remains on their throne, safe and adored."
Jestyn shifted, his bells giving a tiny, muffled jingle. "You followed them here to guard them, didn't you? You've been watching them from the shadows just as I have been watching from the corners of the mind."
Pierrot nodded slowly, his claws retracted. "Harlequin... others... They are too loud. Too dangerous. MC needs someone who can see the danger before it touches them. Someone who would do anything to keep them."
"Then it seems we are at an impasse that doesn't require blood," Jestyn said, extending his hand toward Pierrot—not in a challenge, but in a rare gesture of alliance. "I provide the entertainment, the devotion, the... closer comforts. You provide the silent vigil, the protection from the shadows. We both want the same thing: Your Majesty, isolated from the world’s rot, kept exclusively for us to cherish."
Pierrot looked at Jestyn’s hand, then at MC’s peaceful face. He knew he was the strongest in terms of raw power, but he recognized the utility in Jestyn’s teleportation and his uncanny ability to soothe MC’s moods.
"A truce," Pierrot murmured, reaching out and briefly clasping Jestyn's hand with his own clawed grip. "As long as they are happy. As long as they are ours."
"Ours," Jestyn echoed, the word tasting sweet. He looked back at MC with a silly, wide smile. "Imagine the look on Your Majesty's face when they wake to find they have twice the devotion. I might just have to kneel in advance."
Pierrot didn't smile—his mask did that for him—but he settled onto the floor at the foot of the bed like a loyal hound, his eyes never leaving the door, while Jestyn remained perched like a gargoyle on the mattress, both of them waiting for the moment MC’s eyes would finally open.
A little while later
The first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting long, pale streaks across the bed. As MC’s consciousness drifted back to the surface, the air in the room felt inexplicably heavy, thick with a stillness that wasn't quite natural.
The moment MC’s eyes fluttered open, they weren't met with the ceiling. Instead, they found Jestyn’s masked face hovering just inches away, his wide, painted grin looking even more eccentric in the morning light. At the foot of the bed, the towering, dark silhouette of Pierrot rose from his crouch, his bells giving a soft, metallic chime as he stood.
"Good morning, Your Majesty," Jestyn chirped, his voice a velvet purr. He didn't move an inch, staying perched on the mattress. "The sun was quite bold to wake you before I could finish my morning praises, but I suppose I can forgive it."
MC blinked, their heart skipping a beat as they realized they weren't alone—and that the two most possessive entities in their life were currently occupying the same four walls without any signs of a struggle. MC sat up slowly, pulling the duvet to their chest, looking from the flamboyant puppet on the bed to the silent, masked giant at the door.
"You both... are here?" MC’s voice was still raspy from sleep, their gaze darting between them. "And the room is still standing? I half expected to wake up to a crime scene."
Pierrot stepped closer, his imposing height usually enough to swallow the room, but he moved with a newfound, hesitant gentleness. He reached out, his claws twitching before he settled for resting a large, gloved hand on the bedpost.
"We talked," Pierrot said, his voice surprisingly soft. "He understands. I understand. We both want to keep you... safe. From everything."
"Oh, more than safe, your majesty," Jestyn added, sliding closer on the silk sheets until his knee brushed against MC’s leg. "We’ve decided that a treasure as rare as you deserves a double guard. Pierrot shall be your shadow in the streets, and I shall be your devoted toy within these walls. Or perhaps we shall trade? The possibilities for your satisfaction are... endless."
MC looked at the two of them—one a supernatural puppet who treated them like a deity to be served, the other a predator who watched their every breath with terrifying tenderness.
"You've made a truce?" MC asked, a hint of disbelief in their voice. "Over me? You're both acting like I'm a prize to be managed."
"Not managed, Your Majesty," Jestyn corrected, his long black tongue flicking out briefly as he smiled. "Adored. Consumed. Protected. You are the center of the world; it is only right that the world revolves around you."
Pierrot leaned down, his mask coming level with MC’s face. "Do not be afraid," he murmured, the intensity in his gaze almost palpable. "I will cook for you today. I will stay until you tell me to leave. He will stay, too. No one else will get near you."
MC let out a long breath, realizing the gravity of the situation. The two of them weren't just visiting; they had synchronized their obsessions.
"I don't think I have much of a choice in this, do I?" MC asked, looking at Pierrot’s sharp claws and then at Jestyn’s eager, blushing face.
"You have every choice, Your Majesty," Jestyn whispered, leaning in to nuzzle against MC’s shoulder, his cold skin a stark contrast to the warm blankets. "As long as that choice is us."
The atmosphere in the room was stiflingly intimate as the morning light grew brighter. MC felt the weight of the mattress shift as Jestyn crawled closer, his movements deliberate, while Pierrot remained a silent, towering sentry at the foot of the bed.
"Choices, Your Majesty? You have the only choice that matters," Jestyn murmured, his voice buzzing low against MC’s ear. "You get to choose how we serve you first. Should I dress you in those noble silks that make me want to weep at your feet? Or shall we let the big, silent one fetch you a feast?"
Pierrot’s head tilted, the bells on his jester hat jingling softly. He didn't seem offended by Jestyn’s teasing; instead, he took it as a cue. He stepped toward the center of the room, his 198 cm frame casting a shadow that swallowed the sunlight.
"I will make breakfast," Pierrot stated firmly, his voice rumbling from behind his mask. "You need to eat, MC. You are so small... so easy to break. I want to make sure you are strong."
"A chef and a guardian," Jestyn laughed, a melodic, slightly manic sound. He reached out and traced the edge of the duvet covering MC’s lap. "And I shall stay right here to keep you warm. My skin is cold, I know, but I can be quite... encompassing if you allow it."
MC looked from the jester to the puppet. The truce was terrifyingly efficient. Pierrot began to move toward the kitchen, but he stopped at the bedroom door, his sharp claws digging slightly into the wood of the frame as he looked back one last time.
"I will be listening," Pierrot whispered to MC, his gaze flicking briefly to Jestyn in a silent warning. "If you need me to pull him away, I will. But if you want him there... I will let him stay."
As Pierrot disappeared down the hall, the sounds of him moving through the kitchen—the familiar clinking of pans and the scraping of a knife being sharpened—began to drift back. Jestyn took advantage of the privacy, sliding even closer until he could rest his chin on MC’s shoulder.
"He’s so serious, isn't he? A very protective hound," Jestyn whispered, his dark hand moving to gently capture MC’s chin, forcing them to look into his ecstatic eyes. "But I’m the one who can teleport you away to a palace of porcelain. Tell me, Your Majesty... now that we’re 'alone,' what is your first command? Shall I stay on your lap like a good pet, or do you wish to see how well I can obey a much... darker order?"
He waited, his breath hitching in anticipation, his body practically vibrating with the need for a reaction—a laugh, a command, or even a scolding. To Jestyn, every word from MC was a gift; to Pierrot, in the other room, every breath MC took was a vow he intended to keep.
MC looked up at Jestyn, whose face was flushed with the sheer thrill of being noticed. Instead of pushing him away or giving a sharp command, MC softened their gaze. They reached out, resting a hand against Jestyn’s cheek, their thumb tracing the line of his painted grin. The texture of his skin, once cold porcelain but now surprisingly human-like, felt smooth and sensitive under their touch.
"You’ve both been very busy this morning, haven't you?" MC said softly, their voice warm and teasing. "My devoted protectors, making plans for me while I was still dreaming."
Jestyn’s eyes widened, and he practically melted into the touch. A deep, visible blush crept up his neck and colored his face, his flamboyant confidence momentarily faltering into genuine, wide-eyed awe. He leaned his head into MC’s palm, his breathing hitching.
"Your Majesty... you are far too kind to a mere toy," he whispered, his voice trembling with delight. "To have your hand on me like this... it’s enough to make my strings snap. I would kneel for you a thousand times over if you keep looking at me with such sweetness."
From the kitchen, the rhythmic sound of Pierrot sharpening a knife faltered for a second—he was clearly listening, his sensitive ears catching the change in the room's energy.
"Pierrot!" MC called out, their tone gentle. "Don't just hide in the kitchen. Come back here for a moment."
A few seconds later, the towering jester reappeared in the doorway. He looked almost hesitant, his massive frame filling the entry, his sharp claws still gripped around a kitchen cloth. Seeing MC touching Jestyn so affectionately made Pierrot’s head tilt, his mask fixed in its grin but his posture radiating a quiet, shy yearning.
"I am here, MC," Pierrot murmured, stepping closer to the bed.
MC reached out their other hand toward him. Pierrot didn't hesitate; he moved forward and knelt by the bedside, placing his large, gloved hand near MC’s. When MC rested their hand over his, the silent giant seemed to deflate with relief, his shoulders losing their tension.
"I'm glad you're both here," MC said, looking between the two of them. "I think I could get used to this... as long as you promise to behave for me."
Jestyn let out a shaky, ecstatic breath, his long black tongue flicking over his lips as he gazed at MC with total adoration. "I shall be the most obedient puppet you’ve ever owned, Your Majesty. I’ll even let the hound stay on the bed if it keeps that smile on your face."
Pierrot let out a low, rumbling hum of agreement, his thumb grazing the back of MC's hand with feather-light pressure. "I will cook the best meal you have ever tasted," he promised solemnly. "Anything you want. Today, and every day after. We are yours."
The room felt smaller now, not because of their size, but because of the sheer density of the devotion pressing in from both sides. MC sat there, the center of two dark, obsessive worlds that had finally found a singular, peaceful orbit.
