{//||-- PREVIEW: someone talked about somnophilia here
This (18+ MDNI) piece is a pre-determined consensual somnophilia theme, where the reader is in a Poly-V relationship with both Pierrot and Harlequin (meaning they are both romantically and sexually involved with MC, but not each other).
I really like exploring the Poly-V styled relationship with these three because it holds the Reader being their common ground in an amusing way—especially given the current state of their friendship (to me, at least haha).
This preview is the end of the piece, before I've gone back to complete any editing ;P
Enjoy!
I've been thinking about this ask ever since it blessed my inbox. I'm absolutely in love with the idea of Pierrot being a cruel service top, and what better way to convert y'all than through a lil drabble.
Also shhhh this is absolutely based on a wet dream I had the other night involving a certain someone someone~
Tags: NSFW, AFAB!Reader, GN Pronouns, Edging, Knot mention, *flashes monster fucker badge*, I'm ovulating but I fear at this point this is just who I am, y'all know the routine: I'm letting the coochie type this one, I'm almost positive that my skill in writing juicy smut was the reason I was killed in my past life, y'all are not gonna be ready when I sit down and write a full smut fic instead of just drabbles
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The Freak Circus is an 18+ Visual novel Themes include but are not limited to: dark elements, strong language, sensitive graphic content, suggestive/sexual content. My works can depict similar themes and are not intended for minors in any sense.
Pierrot
Candlelight danced across your room, shadows of lust plastered themselves on the walls, sinful noises accompanying their performance.
"I know, my love, I know, soon," Pierrot comforted you as if he couldn't control his fingers that rubbed tight circles around your clit. "I only wish for you to be completely spent for me, this 'edging' should allow you to take my knot easily."
The circles picked up more speed, rapidly causing your legs to slam around his wrist and your hips buck off of the bed. Only for him to reciprocate by slowing to a complete stop and gathering more of your wetness on his fingers.
Your whimpers and pleas hushed by a gentle kiss, his tongue brushing against your lips in silent permission to sample his work so far. His tongue flooded into your mouth, overpowering yours with ease as it explored every inch, his moans reverberating against your lips. Your tongue paled in comparison to his monstrous size, as your body usually did compared to his. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes as you fought the urge to gag at him exploring a bit too deep. His muffled moans and wet squelches from your core adding to your hormones.
He pulled away, nearly panting himself, a trail of your mixed saliva pearling onto your heaving chest.
His fingertips grazed your clit and you jolted against his touch, a shocked gasp catching in your throat. The noise you made caused his impatient cock to twitch, amber tinted precum oozing from the swollen tip.
"My love, I fear I will lose control if you keep making such adorable noises," he coddled, his head tilting in gentle teasting, before resuming his brutal assault on your clit. "Although, I would be lying if I didn't want to lose a bit of control," he leaned down towards your bite riddled neck, trailing his long tongue across your skin. His free hand makes its way to provide himself friction to cock, pumping it in tandem with your racing heart. Stroking himself from his aching knot to his leaky tip in long pumps.
He sucks the junction of your neck and shoulder as an apology before he sinks his teeth into you. His jaws fighting against his willpower to not tear into you like the beast he is. In between his suckles he reads your bucking hips for your incoming release, stopping just before you reach that sweet coil of pleasure, his hand releasing his cock in subconscious sympathy.
He teases your entrance with the pads of his soaked fingers, your twitching pussy begging him for something, his hand, his tongue, his cock, anything to get some semblance of relief.
He chuckles against your skin before detaching himself, fulling leaning back to enjoy his most beautiful work of art.
You lay before him, a panting disheveled mess, desperate for his touch and his touch alone. Your body craving him in a similar way he craves you. Your heart singing to him in it's sirens' call of primal need. His dry hand caresses your chin, angling it towards him.
"My darling, my sweet sweet anjo. I need to savor you." His hand trails down your sore neck, feeling every welt and divot his marks brandished your skin. "I need to commit your taste to my very being, your ambrosia is among the sweetest delicacies I've had the privilege of indulging."
You feel his claws dance along your nipples, sending shivers down your spine and goosebumps to rise. Your thighs clench in response to his request, his cock jealously throbbing in shunned complaints. He nestles himself in between your legs, wrapping an arm under your thigh, gripping it close to your pussy, his long fingers forming delicious plush ripples to form between the spaces. His other arm continues it's journey down your torso, lovingly tracing loops across your skin. His eyes never left yours while he assumed his prayer-like stance, his pupils dilated with nothing but sheer devotion and adoration for the sight before him.
"You look like an ethereal being, my love, I understand now why your kind resort to such dark actions to experience such a sight." He plants a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, eye contact never faltering. A grin creeps across his mask as he relishes in your flushed face. "I would reclaim the fiery pits of hell if you asked me to, my darling. There's few things I wouldn't do to demonstrate my pure unbridled love I have for you."
His hand reaches your eager mound before his vow of devotion, teasingly tracing around your sensitive bud, circling it like a predator stalking it's prey.
"Allow me, my darling, to bring you sweet release."
His tongue plunges towards your cervix in one swift motion, his fingers ambushing your clit, resuming his attack circles around the frustrated nub. The slithering girth of his tongue exploring every inch you have to offer him. Lapping at your cervix, brushing against your g spot, even going as far as to double back on itself to prepare you for his girthy cock.
His moans vibrate his amber tongue, your taste searing itself into his memory effectively branding your pheromones to every fiber of his body.
You bite back a shameful moan turned cry as you grip the sheets next to you, your ankles locking behind his horns as you grind yourself against his face for sweet release.
His moans turn into muffled laughter as you buck against the coolness of his mask, his fingers continuing to rub circles and his mouth drinking down every drop of essence you can offer.
Amber eyes pierce through the candlelight as you watch his heart shaped pupils pulsate in tandem with your racing heart.
"My dear, I need more, so much more, please," his fingers continue their rampage on your spent clit, his tongue writhing deep into you desperately fishing for more of your ichor. His muffled moans and gasps gradually being replaced with growls and guttural pleas for more.
The candle on the nightstand flickered once, twice, then extinguished. The wick sending it's ghostly smoke through the air. The only light in your room now was the monstrous glow of a predator with his eyes locked onto his deliciously spent prey, cock twitching in anticipation as he lined himself with your prepared entrance.
Selfaware! Virus! Pierrot {} Harlequin {} Doctor {} Ticket Taker {} Jester
Archive No. 2015
Status: alive
Volume of the text: 1 389 words
____
✶ Pierrot
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Pierrot was the last one Jester taught to operate the appliances in your house. He wouldn't have been happy to do it anyway, but Pierrot's puppy eyes, combined with his obsessive behavior, are a terrifying force.
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Pierrot pays the most attention to the things you use most often: your phone, tablet, coffee machine, printer… Now, every morning, a good morning message appears on your smartphone screen, and a smiling Pierrot greets you on the coffee machine's digital panel. He thinks it's very sweet and romantic.
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Pierrot would use a voice assistant to communicate with you. The first time, it would be unexpected. He just wanted to say hello and ask how your day was, but you seemed scared. No problem, next time, he'll make a warning sound three times before talking to you.
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Pierrot adores your smartphone. So many apps, photos, and just plain pictures can tell you so much about you. He'd definitely somehow retrieve your childhood photos from the depths of your internal memory or cloud storage.
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Pierrot is always with you on your smartphone, until one day he spots a cute desktop robot on a marketplace. He can get a body and indirectly touch you in real life. This becomes his biggest dream.
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Pierrot practically jumps for joy when you place the robot in front of your computer screen. An incredibly cute little blob-shaped thing. Do people use it to communicate with their significant other from a distance? Is this a declaration of love!?
Less than a minute after turning on the robot, its round white eyes turn into big yellow stars.
⋆ It takes Selfaware! Virus! Pierrot a week to master controlling the robot. A tough week full of falls, getting stuck in wires and carpets, running away from the pet… But it was definitely worth it! Now he can watch movies with you, have dinner, sleep in the same bed, and even go to work with you. You swear you saw the yellow light of its LEDs in the bathroom while you were showering? You just imagined it, my lady.
⋆ "Where are you going, my lady? Take me with you! I promise to be quiet and not disturb you!"
✶ Harlequin
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Harlequin is second on the Jester's list of those who shouldn't leave the computer. But unfortunately, he's too indifferent to the rules and too smart to figure it out on his own.
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Harlequin openly laughs at Pierrot chasing after you. From a huge, scary monster to a small, running piece of metal. What irony? He wants the same. That's why Harlequin is looking for something more interesting.
⋆ If you have remote-controlled sex toys… Selfaware! Virus! Harlequin will definitely not miss it. Through jokes and teasing, he'll encourage you to use it with his help.
⋆ If you don't have such things, Selfaware! Virus! Harlequin will be a little disappointed, but he'll find other entertainment. For example, fighting with Pierrot for the right to control the robot and use it for his own purposes.
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Harlequin is frankly embarrassed when you bring him a similar robot. He was just annoying Pierrot. He won't use this pathetic piece of metal and chase you around…
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Harlequin's laughter could be heard from across the house as he pushed the robot Pierrot off the bed. His heart-shaped eyes sparkled triumphantly as he settled down on the pillow next to your head, listening to your lectures.
⋆ "Ma'am, you can't be serious, can you? Ma'am, put me back on the bed. Ma'am!"
✶ Doctor
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Doctor isn't particularly interested in anything other than his computer and maybe his smartphone. They're a real source of knowledge - why would he need a robot vacuum cleaner? However, curiosity has always been his weak point.
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Doctor spends his free time visiting marketplaces to look at cute plush toys and YouTube videos to watch husky baths and hedgehog belly rubs.
⋆ However, if you have advanced internet-connected research gadgets like a telescope or microscope, Selfaware! Virus! Doctor might be interested. But they need your help, humhum…
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Doctor will ask for a similar robot to collaborate with you on research. It could find the necessary data on your computer while you set up the equipment, and then, by controlling the robot, help you study human blood or tissue! Sounds like a worthy argument… right?
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Doctor is delighted with its newfound powers. His robot's eyes resemble ornamental crosses and glow blue or bright scarlet. His robot model also seems larger than the others. He follows you everywhere, trying to learn about the everyday life of an ordinary human being from another world.
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Doctor is incredibly clumsy. He often gets knocked down or pushed by Pierrot and Harlequin. Even weeks later, he still gets tangled in wires and stuck on the carpet, but he doesn't seem to care. However, because of this, you treat him no more attentively or reverently than you do the others, so he has no reason to complain or be sad.
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Doctor snuggles against your chest while Pierrot and Harlequin once again fight for the right to lie on the pillow. Hearing your heartbeat in this body upsets him a little.
⋆ "Sweety, maybe we should remove the pillow before they smash each other's bodies?"
✶ Ticket Taker
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Ticket Taker is the first and only person the Jester told about the incredible possibilities of his own free will.
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Ticket Taker is only interested in sponsors of his perfectionism, interest in finance, and obsession with cleanliness. Now your computer is constantly busy, and the robot vacuum cleaner works not automatically, but under his control. Your house has probably never been so clean before.
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Ticket Taker, while compiling another report in an Excel spreadsheet and searching for information, accidentally stumbles upon an ad for the stock exchange. Now that's something new and interesting. Stocks, bonds, portfolios - other new, intriguing words.
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Ticket Taker quickly becomes an investment expert. But he has no money in this world. Can he somehow make some? Hmm… What is copywriting?
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Ticket Taker, using his incredible writing skills and hacking your bank card, becomes a new stock market player. It seems he's found a new incredible and profitable hobby.
⋆ You learn of what happened when a courier knocks on your door and hands you two small, familiar boxes. Selfaware! Virus! Ticket Taker couldn't bear to look at your scattered belongings, dirty windows (asking for help from someone beneath him), and on top of that, he needs someone to control you.
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Ticket Taker finds something relaxing in controlling his new body. His teardrop-shaped white eyes lazily watch your hands as you place him in the blanket nest.
⋆ "Don't you dare pet me without my permission, slattern."
✶ Jester
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Jester sought to control all available technology in your house, deliberately disrupting everyone else's control. He was the leader of the Circus and remains the leader of this house.
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Jester sees robot control as a way to control you, so he tries to eliminate all inaccessible corners of the house. One morning, you find him sitting on your chest. Trying to figure out how he got there, you discover a ladder. A homemade ladder made from a couple dozen books. A clear hint that you should help him subjugate you before he destroys all the literature in your house.
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Jester gets angry when you laugh at his attempts to scold you or set rules. Oh, you think he's too cute for someone as strict as he is? Let's see what you'll say tomorrow when none of your appliances turn on.
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Jester finds it funny how desperate you are when everything goes wrong in the morning. The coffee machine isn't brewing, your phone's battery is dead, someone changed the passwords on all your bank accounts, the fridge defrosted overnight and it seems like something's broken, and absolutely every single one of your robotic blobs is under the Jester's control and won't talk to you. Do you still think he's cute, or will you finally deign to apologize?
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Jester points out problem areas, forcing you to follow him. Here, you need to dismantle and remove some wires, there, remove a rug or create a suitable path for them, there, a ladder wouldn't hurt… After a couple of hours, you want to howl in frustration, but for every task you complete, the Jester brings one appliance back to life, so you have to endure it.
⋆Selfaware! Virus! Jester is finally satisfied when he gains full access to your home. Now he's forgiven you, and you can spend a couple of hours with Pierrot. No, Harlequin is grounded and cleaning out the Circus closet.
⋆ Selfaware! Virus! Jester returns the pillow and takes his place of honor on it, ignoring the sad looks from Pierrot and Harlequin.
⋆ "Next time, watch your words, my pet. Otherwise, your life will turn into hell."
⚚•. Summary: As the heir to Regency of Barasil, You were trained for the crown. Unquestionably well in fact, you knew to curtsy before officials and visiting royalty. You knew how to manage your court and in due time, your kingdom.
Simply put you were greater than adequate, even if your tastes were... Abominated. Where your siblings preferred the company of a handmaid or servant to sate their baser needs, you preferred the touch of monsters.
⚚• Warnings: Alcohol, Racism & Prejudice against monsters, , Monster x Human, Biting, Blood, Themes of Cannibalism, Size Difference, Church Sex, Drool, Cum Eating, Marking, Saccharine sweet Pierrot
⚚•. Notes: Okay sweet summer children, this is how papa will do things from now on. Instead of posting a whole fic on tumblr, I'll post the sneak peaks here and the fic on ao3.
Any further questions? Ask Google.
Toodles!, Obscenity
The royal reliquary is a hushed, melancholic antechamber in the sprawling veins of the ancient palace. The air hangs heavy with the scent of aged stone, musty leather, and sweet beeswax from the ever-burning sconces.
Everything in this place rests, save for the creaking of old floorboards beneath your turnshoes.
Sunlight slants through narrow arrow-slit windows, casting elongated streaks across the room and revealing floating specks of dust. Revealed by this light are the frayed edges of banners depicting long-forgotten victories. On one, monsters run fleeing before being struck down amongst fields streaked with blood, a reminder of the kingdom’s ancient monster hunting bloodline.
Not that you'd ever be allowed to forget it; the lineage you hail from and what they stand for, that is. From the moment you were little more than a stumbling bantling, you were guided to walk through a valley of bones.
The sky was pale that day, powdered ghost-white with the coming of winter's first snow. For a fleeting moment, you could almost imagine yourself somewhere else: a grand courtyard blanketed beneath a thin sheet of snow, where your siblings would beckon you to play and the crushing mantle of your birthright might, for once, dissolve.
Instead of memories of innocent times, beneath that pale horizon, you could only think of death, of the Valley of Bones.
The trek had been a difficult one. Snow clung wet and heavy against your one-size-too-large boots, seeping through the worn leather until your little feet had gone numb. Nestled amongst faded war banners dusty and tattered at its edges lie a single skull. Partially submerged and near invisible against the sea of white, only saved by spiraling shadows cast by horns sprouted from its crown.
Most would solemnly swallow their questions in such a place. But a child's curiosity knows little of such customs.
You tugged at your father's calloused hand, pointing toward the odd cadaver.
“Father, what's that?!”
You chirped with childish excitement, each syllable bright and breathless, a little laugh at a funeral.
Hardened eyes followed your pointing finger to the protruding horned skull. Then softened.
“A monster little one.”
You repeated, head tilting curiously. “A monster?”
“Aye.” Your father's gaze lingered on your bemused expression, features soft in the presence of your wonder. “A creature. Nothing more.”
He knelt beside you, gloved hand settling gently upon your shoulder as he brought his attention back to the corpse.
“Ugly things, aren't they?”
You scrunched, responding to the question with a long, contemplative hum before shaking your head.
“Hm... No papa, monsters seem like pretty people” His fingers tightened slightly against your shoulder.
“Monsters are not people,” Your father corrected. “They have no place among civilized folk. Left to their own devices, they breed, they hunt humans, and they make dens of whatever land they can claim.”
“That is why our family exists," He pointed toward the cadaver.
“To tame them. To cull those that cannot be tamed. To keep them from becoming a danger to those who can.”
You nodded. Slowly absorbing the lesson, your history, and what would soon become your duty. Yet still, you couldn't pry your eyes from the corpse, fascinated.
“Did you kill it papa?”
Your father's smiled, rising to his full height and hoisting you upon his shoulders in one smooth motion.
“Not this one.”
From atop your father's shoulders, the valley beyond the hill was finally visible. Previously hidden by your meager height, it stretched farther than your young eyes could comprehend.
Bones covered the landscape as far as the eye could see, each bearing strange markings and jagged protrusions. They decorated the snow like rows of crooked teeth, vanishing into the pale horizon.
“But one day, little one, you will.”
For years, you believed this was the indisputable truth.
That it was ancient gospel: monsters were lowly, barbaric creatures, undeserving of the same mercy afforded to civilized men.
You believed it because your father had taught you to believe it.
Because his father had taught him, and his father before him. Generation after generation, the lesson had been passed down like scripture.
That was before you met someone that would pivot your fate at first glance of those sparkling, kind eyes.
The first time you met Pierrot, you truly had no inkling of the ensuing hurricane that threatened to upend your carefully scripted existence.
On that fateful day, the training yard had been a crucible of dust and sweat, the clang of steel so relentless it made your ears ring. You hated training. Hated the way the sun pressed heavy on your shoulders, the way the monster soldiers circled like wolves scenting weakness.
Your arm ached from blocking blows, the half-healed scars from battles past stinging with every jolt. Your strikes became sloppy, yourq footing worse. Then, when you were worn raw, sweat-soaked and shaking, they threw you to their star pupil, as though the day hadn’t taken enough from you already.
Your opponent had been Pierrot.
You didn’t know his name then. Just that he was a quiet, lean, sharp-eyed fighter who favoured daggers and moved like held breath. No wasted motion, no unnecessary flourishes.
He was tall in stature, almost gangly so, your head barely reaching his shoulder, forcing you to crane your neck upward just to meet his gaze. Still, the sleeves of his worn training tunic strained over strong, corded arms that spoke of relentless hours of training. His wispy white hair was tied in the practical style of the guard, the long tips hanging defiantly where it refused to be contained.
His eyes, big and round and startlingly gold, held a stillness that made them seem older than the rest of him.
The other monsters stepped back when he entered the ring, someone snickering, “Try not to dent the little royal, Pierrot,” and his man’s jaw tightened, a flicker of something dangerous beneath the stillness.
Pierrot brought both hands up in a boxer’s guard, twin daggers glinting like teeth between his fists. You swallowed, forced your sword into position, and tried to convince yourself that your taller stature and longer blade counted for something.
“Fight!” The commander shouted. The anxiety rattled up your arm like lightning, sword trembling with the force of it.
Pierrot moved first, fast and efficient. You barely raised your sword before the first strike came down with a resounding clatter.
Then another, then another, and another. Pierrot didn’t bother with circling or taunting – with short blades, that would’ve been a mistake. Instead, he drove straight in, cutting the distance down to nothing, forcing you backward until your boots scraped the packed earth at the ring’s edge.
In a burst of panic, you swung wide, hoping the sword’s reach would buy you space. But Pierrot's lithe frame slipped under the arc with ease, twisting past the long blade’s advantage, and in the same motion, the blunt edge of his dagger caught your chest.
Pain, hot and searing bloomed where your skin was split, then warmth. The world stilled. The other trainees' sparring dulled to a distant hum. You looked down at the pool of red spreading across your tunic, felt the sharp sting of air on the wound through your cut shirt.
Pierrot's breath caught, half surprise, half something else. He froze instantly, face draining of colour. The offending dagger clattered to the dirt as if it had scorched him.
“Your Highness, I—” He dropped to one knee so fast his balance wavered. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean— Please-”
The other monsters held their breath. A common monster wounding a royal was a death sentence. They expected your anger but you just stared at the boy kneeling before you. At the fear in his eyes, the tremor in his shoulders, and something inside of you cracked. Not in anger, but… Curiousity?
For days, perhaps weeks, you had been terribly bored. The quiet periods after training. The dull mental gymnastics that accompanied managing a court. The still duller political meetings with officials who spoke endlessly without ever seeming to say anything. Your exhaustion, your pain, had felt distant, incomparable to the burn at your chest.
But this small cut, the sting of sweat on open flesh, the panic in Pierrot's voice – it yanked you back into yourself with brutal clarity.
You laughed, a breathless little thing, and it startled everyone, including yourself. The sound was rough and raw, and a little manic.
“No one has ever drawn my blood before,” You said lightly, gracin the wound with wavering fingers before bringing them up to the light. “Well done.”
“Y-your highness, are you al—” The captain piped but was quickly silenced by a wave of your hand.
“Don't.” Your voice was gentle yet firm. You turned back to face your opponent kneeling before you, still rigid with terror.
“Will you continue to tremble at my feet or will you help me up?” The monster hesitated, reluctant to cause further harm. The boy rose slowly, taking your hand in his, careful eyes flicking to the wound, then to the dagger lying between them.
“I’ll accept any punishment you deem fit,” he said, voice steady despite the shake in his hands.
“Punishment?” you echoed, bending to retrieve the blade. You turned it once, twice, in your palm. The hilt was worn smooth, one side lighter from the chalk that dusted his grip.
“Keep it,” you said finally, handing it back carefully. “You earned it.” You smiled faintly, the expression felt strange and foreign on your face after days of boredom.
Confusion flickered across those wide golden eyes as he blinked down at you. “Your Highness?”
You hadn't graced the monster with an answer, quickly, you left the ring, before departing you caught Pierrot's eyes one last time, and saw something that lodged deep under your skin. Shame shadowed those eyes, fear filled them, but beneath it all burned a stubborn, unwilling spark of pride.
Later, when the cut was cleaned and bandaged, You traced the wound over and over, remembering not the pain but that look in that monsters eyes. For the first time in a long while, You felt wholly alive.
—
Three days passed like blood from a shallow wound. Slow and miserable, yet mercifully uneventful.
You moved through the palace’s west wing, cold corridors, the council chamber, the empty ballroom, feeling the weight of eyes that would not meet yours.
Now, however, that feeling of eyes on you followed everywhere or perhaps, Now, you found yourself noticing him everywhere.
In the training hall's yard, You noticed a shiver down your back, whipping around to meet the source of discomfort.
You were met with a shadow first at the edge of the training yard, polishing a row of practice blades with mechanical precision, shoulders rigid beneath a plain linen tunic. Then in the lower kitchens, carrying a crate of rations, head bowed so low you hardly recognized the man if it weren't for wide golden eyes staring through silver tufts of hair.
The next evening, as supper dragged on the highborns and advisors droned about mandatory communal labor for monster commoners, You opted to create constellation with the tines of your fork.
A familiar sensation like the ghostly touches of fingers barely brushing your skin lead your attention. Overtly, you leaned back to glance over some highborn official's shoulder. There against the far wall, stood Pierrot.
It wasn’t unheard of for monster guards to be present at meals, but they were almost always drawn from the personal details of the crown.
You naturally had your own guard for your disposal, yet you hadn't been one to flaunt them so readily as the rest of your family. Your sister, Princess Carol was followed everywhere by tall, silent men in vibrant fuschia; King Nathaniel by broad-shouldered brutes in gold.
Each colour carried its own meaning. Gold for prosperity, fuschia for purity of blood, and the hallways were forever striped with those shifting symbols of power.
Looking painfully out of place among the velvet and gilt, Pierrot wore plain grey, the uniform of the training-yard barracks. His shoulders were stiff, hands clasped at his sides, and his gaze kept drifting toward the table before jerking away again.
You felt it each time it happened, like a fingertip brushing the fresh bandage beneath his shirt. Then, finally, your eyes met across the candlelight for a single heartbeat.
Pierrot's cheeks flooded scarlet, the colour rising so fast it reached the nape of his neck in seconds. He dropped his gaze to the floor as though the flagstones had suddenly become fascinating, throat working with a hard swallow.
You hid a smile behind your goblet and pretended, for the rest of the meal, that the room hadn't just grown several degrees warmer. Deep in your chest, that warm ticklish feeling was brewing within. You leaned into it, cautious but curious, melting into the low thrumming heat through your chest, something you'd not felt since years past during the times of childish infatuation.
On the fourth morning since their fight, you were startled to hear a knock at the door of your personal study. It was sharper, more deliberate than the interruptions you'd grown used to avoiding.
(scenario: mc is very self conscious with money, in this case let's pretend the tickets are expensive) [this one is NOT proofread]
• A situation where mc keeps getting a ticket from Pierrot to watch his performances at the circus. Every time the show ends Pierrot approaches mc to see if they like the show, mc not wanting to leave him hanging always gives him feedbacks "the show was pretty great", "I like how you make dancing up in the air so elegantly", "that one stunt was pretty cool to see face to face" and so on, eventually a thought kicks in while watching one of the shows then mc just squints and looks at him
["now wait a damn minute- how am I watching this performance for FREE?!"] so now their just sitting there profusely sweating internally screaming, cause their pretty sure these tickets are expensive as hell just from what they've heard from the crowd. ["oh fuck- am I taking advantage of this guy with all these tickets?? shoot-"]
more guilt creeps in on how if it wasn't for the red ticket, they wouldn't even think of visiting the circus, comparing how they would rather use their money for daily necessities plus side projects over purchasing a ticket for a one time entertainment ["okay now that just sounds bad if I say it out loud-auuugh!"*frustrated*] their basically just giving mere compliments and thats it, that doesn't cut it with how much money their probably getting away with all these 'free' tickets ["I know my first impression of his show wasn't that good per se, but if this keeps going isn't he gonna loose some sort of profit because of this?"]
Pierrot notices mc's sudden change of mood in the crowd as if their mind is occupied with something else, which makes him instantly worried ["mc's not looking at me...are they stressed or did I do something wrong? do they not like my performance? are they getting bored?"] he's slowly spiraling but the show must go on.
Once the show ends, He immediately bolts to mc's direction grabs their hand and intertwines it with their fingers (not giving them a chance to get away but also not to scare them) "my dear, is there something wrong? I noticed that you weren't satisfied with my show, is my performance tonight lacking to your interests?" hearing that made mc have to frantically come up with words before Pierrot gets the wrong idea. "WHAT? NO it's not that!, your performance is not lacking at all, in fact your performance is perfect as always, it's just that-" looking back at it now, he always gives his best at 100% never once has he made a mistake once he's on stage, it's almost alluring yet surprising in comparison to the Pierrot that they know in the café, this is the circus after all, this is where their skills shines the most under a spotlight, sometimes when Pierrot performs it's like he's a whole different person out there, he gives off this serious undertone as if he's honed his skills for more than decades, more than a skilled professional that you might've glanced on the street if that's even possible, it feels unnatural yet he makes it work somehow.
"I really do enjoy watching all of your performances, if I'm honest I am honoured to be invited at all to see all of them" Pierrot gleams hearing that but noticing that mc still have that worried look made him wonder "it's good to hear that you like it here, but I do wonder what seems to be bothering you my dear?" he steps closer
"I mean it made sense that you offered me a ticket that one time after I helped you out, I get that it was out of act of appreciation, but this? This is like the __th time you've given me a ticket and I feel like I'm getting more from this situation than what I have given to you in the first place, I'm just worried your not getting anything at all from this"
Pierrot just stares at mc for a second, don't know what feeling he should express after hearing that, confusion? Bafflement? or endeared that mc was worried for him in the first place.
Ever since Pierrot has offered that red ticket to mc, it has never been the same for him after that, the rush of attention and affection he gets from their presence shivers up his spine down to his torso.
out of all the decades he has performed inside the circus, night after night different performances each day, despite his tent having the most crowds, good for the survival for the circus members, everyone is simply just a blur to him a background noise for his performance, laughing and cheers can be heard outside the tent yet it's all just muffled screams for Pierrot,
But after that day, a moment he didn't expect would happen outside the circus handing out flyers, his thoughts get interrupted with a punch from a stranger, he just lets the same situation go on as usual just stay low and silent until the stranger goes away, but another voice joined in the muffled noise, an attention..from someone? from a human- A HUMAN!? paying attention to HIM? helping him in the crowd over another human that could easily hurt them if they wanted to? After mc lent them a hand plus a bandage and he gives them a ticket that same night.
Pierrot prepares a 'special' show just for mc after a small obstacle that messed mc's work in the morning. During preparation he was ecstatic to imagine mc's enthusiastic reaction for his grand performance while also worried if mc was gonna come.
Just as he was about to perform his worries dissipates as soon as he saw mc at the front row seats ["they used my ticket." "They came."]
Focused on aiming the sides of the target until the last headshot, Pierrot was expecting for mc to smile but ended up getting a nauseated look from mc as they hurriedly walked out of the tent, he immediately followed mc after the show and asked if there was something wrong with the show, just for mc to reassure him that the show was good it's just that the actual performance itself caught them off guard for how realistic it looked.
Words starts to blur afterwards, Pierrot worried that mc might not go back again and so they start to think of other ways to make them stay longer, just for mc to say "well that was pretty fun nonetheless, it is getting pretty late tho- so let's just see each other again next time!" as they wave back at him and walk away.
["next time?" "They want to see me again tomorrow?"] That got him excited that mc reciprocates the same feelings as he does, after that he offers his ticket everytime he visits the café to get closer to them.
for the first time in a while Pierrot has something to look forward to besides just practicing and perform every night, instead of just performing like the usual just to get things done to get more customers, this time he got an audience who not only appreciates his performance and pays attention to him the whole time, but this human in particular also respects him outside the circus premises even when he's not working, for the first time he felt seen, not just as a performer, but himself only him. no acting, no grand gestures needed in order for them to pay attention to him (if he wanted to he could in a heartbeat) but just himself out in the public without all the grandeur and they still see him just the same regardless, those same respectful and loving demeaner that never changes is what makes him love them even more.
in fact its an honor for him that they are comfortable enough to not just talk but also crack jokes around him at the cafe, he didn't expect to get this far for them to get this comfortable being around him and he truly wish he could just take them away and lock them up to savor this moment much longer, but alas he doesn't want to scare them after all, he'll just have to wait a bit longer and eventually the opportunity to take them away will come not far too long.
Pierrot holds mc's hands and kneels down with one knee in front of them as he raise their hand to kiss the the back of their palm. "woah wait! what's going on, there is really no need to do this please stand up" mc panics as they look side to side at some of the crowds passing by staring at them, He didn't budge from his position and continued to ease mc with their worries, "my dear, there's not a single moment or doubt that has crossed my mind every time I offer you my ticket, I didn't give you my ticket just out of obligation from when you save me that day, but I continue because it comes from the bottom of my heart, I love to see you every time you come to see my show it always gives me the reassurance to do my very best because you are here my dear, here out of all your time sharing just a fraction of your day to see me. I enjoy when you are around me my dear, every moment when we are together it makes me feel at ease if only for a moment like I can be just myself, and I hope that in some way my feelings may get through to you and you never doubt my intentions on wanting you just as yourself to be around me just the same."
for a moment that left mc speechless thinking if did they just received a confession just now? (weirdly kinda felt like it) or was that just how much of an impact they have given Pierrot with their company without them even thinking about it that much and was way too worried on something else "I didn't think you felt that way, I haven't really thought it that way I guess, I was more focused on what I could offer more since you've been giving me a lot more than I already have, and I wanted to show more appreciation to you and give you something more than just words of encouragement" Pierrot stands up but his lips never leaving their hand "but you've already given me all the things I couldn't imagine I ever wanted" "I want you"
mc started side eyeing on themselves since this conversation start to feel a bit more intimate than they expected but decide to just flew that idea away. anyways they still had that nagging feeling that at least they need to give something even if it's not big, so they decided to offer Pierrot to offer them sweet treats every time they visit to which he much happily accepted, can't just leave a performer hungry after a performance after all (more homemade gifts from my dear the better so its still a win/win)
{//||-- 18+ writing ; minors do not interact.
This is Pierrot's version of the Doctor giving the reader an herbal mixture that goes... awry. (;
Short, sweet and just a self-serving idea follow-through haha.
Doctor's version can be found linked in the Master Post. Enjoy!
The heavy canvas door of Pierrot’s private quarters did little to muffle the rhythmic thud of heavy metal echoing from the Doctor's tent down the way. Inside Pierrot's own tented room was rich with its usual perfume: greasepaint, confectioner’s sugar, and the faint sweet scent of vanilla.
Pierrot stood before his vanity, head tilted as he inspected the fresh stitches in his uniform. He was assessing whether the mend was too noticeable when the curtain was violently swept aside.
The Doctor filled the threshold, his colossal frame eclipsing the moonlight from outside. Unbothered as always, his cyan-masked gaze remained coolly clinical, fixed on the clipboard in his left hand. In his right arm he dangled you by the waist, supporting your entire weight as your legs dangled, completely turned to jelly.
"She is... malfunctioning," the Doctor announced, his deep Russian baritone utterly flat. "The neural receptor concoction underwent a severe chemical mutation upon interaction with human biology. She is experiencing profound hypersensitivity, localized pelvic congestion, and a complete collapse of behavioral inhibition. In short: the patient is insatiably aroused. I have secured all necessary data, so she is now your responsibility."
With a firm nudge, the Doctor ushered you over the threshold. You stumbled instantly, a high, desperate whimpering tearing from your throat as your instincts drove you toward the familiar heat of your lover.
Pierrot turned at the noise, his wide, expressive eyes blinking in utter shock as he absorbed the scene. "D-Doctor? Oh—dear one, I have you!"
Before the clown could even set down his sewing kit, you threw yourself blindly into his space. Your hands clawed frantically at the ruffled collar of his costume, your face burying into his broad chest to drag in his scent. Every nerve ending in your skin burned. The Doctor’s elixir had rendered you a ticking time bomb of raw nerve and impulse; your thighs rubbed together beneath your skirt, slick with an agonizing heat that drew a helpless sob from your lips.
"D-dearest...?" Pierrot sputtered as a vivid crimson bloom spread rapidly across his face. His hands hovered in the air, trembling, utterly paralyzed as you ground your hips recklessly against his thigh. "Doctor, what did you give her?! She is... she is biting my shoulder!"
"A temporary sensory amplifier. It will dissipate... eventually," the Doctor replied, checking off a box on his sheet. "Ensure she maintains hydration... Goodbye."
Without another word, the bird-like monster turned and melted into the shadows, leaving the heavy curtain to sway shut behind him.
The moment he vanished, your remaining restraint shattered. A ragged cry escaped you, your fingers digging through Pierrot’s costume as you forced him to look at you. Your eyes were dazed, pupils blown wide, and your chest heaved against the thin fabric of your top.
"Pierrot... please," you begged, your voice cracking with a ragged desperation that made his chest ache. "Touch me. It hurts so much. Please, my head is spinning..."
Pierrot looked down at you, his initial fluster slowly giving way to something far deeper. Watching you plead, seeing your tongue sweep over your swollen lower lip, did something profound to him. The sheer vulnerability of his human lover—stripped of all reserve—sent a wave of possessive adoration surging through his veins. The sweet, heady scent of your arousal filled the small room, stoking a sudden, answering heat within him.
A slow, wicked smile curved his lips. His hovering hands descended, locking firmly around your waist to drag your writhing hips flush against his own.
"Oh, sweet one," his voice dropped an octave into a dark, smooth growl. He leaned down, pressing his brow to yours, his hot breath brushing your flushed cheeks. "My poor dear... A terrible mishap, wasn't it? But look at you now... so beautifully undone. And calling for me..."
"Yes—yes, please, Pierrot, I need you," you whimpered, arching into him as his clawed hands dug into your waist. The mere pressure of his grip sent a shockwave straight to your core.
"Shh, I have you. Let me fix this...," he murmured, his tone shifting from flustered tenderness to absolute relish. He adored playing your savior, reveling in the dark romance of tending to his frantic, helpless mate.
With effortless grace, Pierrot hoisted you onto the edge of his dressing table, sweeping jars of greasepaint, brushes, and thread to the floor in a cascading clatter. He stepped immediately into the space between your knees.
You didn't wait. You grabbed at the cross-ties of his tunic, fingers clumsy and trembling so violently you could barely loosen the cord. "Take it off... I want to feel you."
Pierrot let out a deep, delighted chuckle at the desperate growl in your voice, his eyes dancing with affection as he captured your frantic wrists. He kissed your knuckles tenderly, one by one. "Patience, my dear. If you are truly this sensitive... I intend to savor every single inch of your body..."
His clawed fingers hooked into the waistband of your soaked underwear, slowly, agonizedly peeling the lace down your trembling legs. The moment the cool air hit your drenched core, a high whine tore from your throat, your knees threatening to snap shut from the sheer intensity of it.
Pierrot caught your legs, firmly parting them wide. His gaze darkened as he took in the sight—the glistening skin of your inner thighs gleaming beneath the warm vanity lights.
"Look at you, dear one... breathtaking," Pierrot whispered, his voice a low, reverent rumble. "So wet... So ready for me."
He didn't use his hands. Pierrot leaned down, bringing his face inches from your throbbing center. You gasped, your fingers digging into the edge of the wood until your nails crunched against the texture.
"Pierrot, w-wait—" You wanted him inside you—the void was too vast, the ache too sharp for anything less.
"Let me have this, dearest... let me taste you first," he breathed against your skin.
When his long, velvet tongue slid over your swollen clit, the sensation was so violent it tore a scream from your throat. The elixir had magnified your nerves what felt like a hundredfold; his touch felt like liquid fire. Pierrot growled softly at your reaction, his hands gripping your thighs to anchor you as you instinctively tried to buck away from the sensory overload.
He drank you in greedily, his tongue painting long, deliberate strokes, swirling over your heat until you were weeping, tossing your head back against the mirror frame.
"Too much—it's too much!" you sobbed, your toes curling as a blinding wave of tension coiled at the base of your spine. "S-stop, please, I can't—"
"Let it break, my dear. I will catch you," Pierrot murmured, rising swiftly to smother your protests in a deep, bruising kiss.
He swept his tongue into your mouth, wrapping itself with yours, while his hand slid down between your thighs. He slipped two long fingers deep inside you, and your body instantly clamped around them in a vice-like grip. The internal heat was staggering; your muscles twitched and pulsed rhythmically around his intrusion. Pierrot groaned into the kiss, his thumb finding your center and applying three heavy frictioned strokes.
The explosion was immediate.
Your first orgasm hit with the force of a tidal wave. You shrieked into his mouth, your entire body convulsing as you squeezed his fingers frantically. Pierrot held you tight through the storm, drinking in your breathless sobs as you shook in his arms.
As the climax slowly crested, you slumped against him, panting and utterly spent. But the Doctor’s potion offered no true respite. Within seconds the throbbing, unsatisfied ache flared right back up, deeper and more demanding than before.
"Still so hungry...," Pierrot marveled in pure delight, pulling back to study your dazed, tear-stained face. "Let me give you what you truly need, my dear."
He stood straight, unfastening his trousers with eager, trembling claws to free his length. He was thick, beautifully formed, and pulsing with a heavy heat that matched your frantic pulse.
Pierrot grabbed your hips, dragging you to the very edge of the table until your core pressed directly against his rigid shaft. He didn't push in, not right away; he simply dragged himself up and down through your slickness, coating himself in your warmth.
"P-please, Pierrot," you whimpered, fingers clutching wildly at his waist. "Put it inside... Please."
"Look at me, dearest," he commanded softly, his tone thick with a quiet, fierce pride.
You forced your heavy eyelids open, meeting his adoring gaze.
"You... are entirely mine tonight," he whispered, and with a slow, agonizingly steady thrust, he buried himself completely within you. As much as your body would have him.
A loud sob broke from your chest. Your eyes rolled back as your body stretched to accommodate him, locking violently around his thick entry. It was vast, solid, and deep—finally filling the agonizing void the drug had carved into you.
Pierrot let out a long, shuddering growl, going rigid as your tight, pulsing heat gripped him. "A-ahh... Deus... you are so tight, dear one. So warm..."
He began to move. Mindful of your heightened state, he kept the initial rhythm agonizingly slow and deep, drawing back until he nearly slipped free before plunging deep once more. Every slide of friction felt magnified to an unbearable edge. You thrashed against the wood, your fingers catching his ruffled collar and tearing the delicate lace as you tried to pull him closer.
"Faster—please, Pierrot, harder!" you cried out, your hips rising instinctively to meet him.
"As you wish, my lady," he grunted, restraint giving way to raw, primal drive. His smile became razored as his golden gaze became a bit more unhinged; more wild.
He hooked your legs over his shoulders, opening you completely, and changed the pace. His thrusts turned fast and heavy, the wet, rhythmic sound of skin meeting skin echoing off the vanity glass.
You slipped entirely into delirium. Every strike of his hips set off bursts of blinding light behind your eyes. The crest was rising again, far steeper and hotter than the last.
"Pierrot! P-Pierrot, I-I can't hold it—!"
"Yes, sweet one... give it to me! L-let me feel you," he rasped, his mask flushed, breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he pursued his own peak. He drove forward, pinning you to the table with three heavy, punishing thrusts, his clawed hand digging into the wood frame until the timber splintered beneath his grip.
Your second climax struck like a lightning bolt; seizing around him in a tight, desperate rhythm that shattered your monster's remaining control.
Pierrot let out a loud cry warped with a growl, his head thrown back as he came deep inside you. He rode out the surge with two final, shuddering thrusts, filling you completely until you were both left trembling, collapsed together in a tangle of limbs atop the dressing table.
Your labored breaths quieted slowly in the dim light. He held you flush against his chest, his arms locked around you as small, fading aftershocks continued to ripple through your frame.
Pierrot buried his face in the crook of your neck, yellow tongue dipping out to give you a small thankful lick; his clawed fingers gently stroking your slick thigh. The familiar deep and dorky chuckle vibrated against your skin.
"My dear...," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your temple, his voice rich with adoration. "We really must remember to thank the Doctor for his research. You were... utterly magnificent."
{//||--*PREVIEW TO SHOW I'M NOT DEAD lol
This is a piece I meant to write a hot minute ago; Pierrot's version of the Reader taking one of Doctor's concoctions and becoming incredibly aroused.
18+ MDNI
The heavy canvas doorway of Pierrot’s private quarters did little to muffle the sounds of distant thumping of heavy metal echoing from the Doctor's quarters down the way. Inside his tented room the air smelled of greasepaint, powdered sugar, and the faint sweet scent of vanilla.
Pierrot stood before his vanity mirror, head tilted to see if the attempts to fix his uniform stood out to much, when the curtain door was suddenly swept aside.
The Doctor stood in the threshold, his massive build completely blocking out the view of the world behind him. The visitor was entirely unbothered, his cyan masked eyes cool and clinical as he looked down at the clipboard in his left hand. In his right hand, he held you by the waist, supporting most of your weight because your legs had completely turned to jelly.
"She is... malfunctioning," the Doctor explained, his thick Russian baritone deadpan and flat. "The neural receptor concoction had a rather unexpected chemical mutation when introduced to human biology. She is experiencing extreme hyper-sensitivity, intense reactions in the pelvic areas, and a complete lack of behavioral inhibition. In short: the patient has become incredibly aroused. I have recorded all necessary data that I needed, so she is all yours now."
