Hey wassup, Im here to be a nuisance to this Fandom/jk
Im probably mostly reblog unless I figure how to use the ask box (or I fight my anxiety over to actually make friends) but uh some rules I suppose
- Please only Adults interact with me, 20+ preferred
- I do not tolerate bullshit... not on some Johnny badass shit but I have low tolerance for drama or he said she said. If you don't like something please block
- I do not mind greenapple, or any other pairing for the circus members. Even the poly route, if you don't like it this blog may contain it.
-If I post artwork it will mostly be of my character and not some Grey blob as a stand in. I just don't care for it... plus I like my gremlin a lot more
- I may repost fics I like, some nsfw others sfw. I will tag them as so (this includes drawing but ykno tumblr only let's you get away with so much)
Coming in hot with a FFXIV x The Freak Circus HC for mostly their jobs.
Pierrot: Dancer, Monk, Culinarian, fisher, he'd definitely try to learn a healer for MC but he focuses too much on MC and forgoes the tank(Harley)
Harlequin: Viper, Ninja, Weaver(not with clothes tho probably making mammets), Pictomancer, he'd probably want to be a gun breaker but no one trust him to tank
Ticket Taker: Scholar/Summoner, Paladin, Sage, (he probably has every crafter this man is an all rounder)
Doctor: White Mage(BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD LILY), Warrior, maybe sage, botanist, and alchemist
Jester: Black Mage, scholar/Summoner, Red Mage, and Astrologian.
My favorite thing that the TFC Fandom has done is give jester like 6 in stiletto heels. Mind you he wears kitten meow meow heels, they aren't that high/tall(?) at all.
Have you guys ever noticed that Pierrot courts the MC the exact same way he used to court Columbina, but with different intensities?
For example, in this scene, the Jester mentions that Pierrot used to give flowers of the valley to her. He also gives us a rose, but a handmade one, painted with Pierrot's own blood—something with a much deeper symbolism, showing a far greater level of devotion.
Pierrot was highly protective of Columbina against humans. He defended her and would get hurt by them as a punishment, but he kept protecting her anyway. With the MC, Pierrot shows himself to be even more protective, since he brutally kills the café customer just for being mean to the MC. From what we saw in the mirror, Pierrot wasn't that aggressive towards the humans who harassed Columbina.
He also used to hide his claws so he wouldn't scratch Columbina, just like he hides his monstrous nature now so he won't scare the MC
This proves that Pierrot’s love for Columbina was something more innocent, youthful—a classic first love. With the MC, however, it is an obsession; it’s something much more intense and deeply rooted. Of course, this is also due to what Pierrot went through. Back during Columbina's time, he had already experienced suffering, but he hadn't yet seen how truly cruel the world could be. That's why he was more innocent, younger, and more naive. By the time he meets the MC, he is much more experienced. He has learned how bad and cruel the world is, which is why he defends the MC in a much more intense and even violent way against anyone who slightly offends her. He will never let anyone hurt the person he loves ever again.
This is my first post, so please forgive me if it's bad or if there are any typos. English is not my first language.
Same reason why some people only see Pierrot as just a "sweet puppy dog".
They can't analyze beyond what they see or read.
(sorry if this sounds mean to say but just stating a fact and common issue in the fandom. And in countless other fandoms too over obvious complex characters.)
Warning: Contains graphic scenes of blood and cannibalism. Proceed with caution.
He was starving, driven mad by repressed desire—forgive him, please…
He knelt over her, like a caged beast lingering before an altar.
In the dark, her body glowed with a pearl-like sheen under the dim light, more beautiful than he’d ever remembered. Every inch of skin his tongue traced exuded a delicate fragrance that sent shivers to the core of his soul.It was no ordinary scent of a woman, but one that seeped from deep within her flesh, from the marrow of her bones—hers alone. To a creature with such acute senses as his, it was as rich and intoxicating as aged wine. The line between lust and hunger blurred in his scorching breath.
The more he loved her, the more that fragrance pierced his senses, searing into his very being.The more he loved her, the harder it was to restrain the urge of his fangs screaming to sink into her soft flesh.The more he loved her, the more intense the burning hunger rising from the pit of his stomach, scorching his innards.
His heavy breaths fanned her gently heaving abdomen, his fangs hovering just above the tender skin—so close he could feel the soft pulse of the blood vessels beneath. A little more force, and he could pierce, taste, and completely possess the source of this maddening scent—
In that instant, he snapped back to his senses.
The impending bite froze mid-motion, then twisted abruptly. He closed his eyes, summoning all his will to suppress his instincts, turning that fatal gnaw into repeated, damp licks and gentle, comforting nips.
When his lips finally pulled away, the skin was covered with mottled wet marks and flushed imprints, like his footprints left in the snow.He lifted his head, his golden pupils still locked in a ferocious battle between lust and hunger. The last of his sanity left him gasping, a 压抑 ed, almost painful sound. His love, in that moment, carried the omen of destruction.
He felt an unprecedented hunger.
He leaned down, as if soaked in both honey and poison, pressing his burning lips to the throbbing pulse of your neck. Your look of torment met his eyes, driving him more mad than anything else.
“My… darling…” The words of love spilled brokenly from his gasps, wrapped in hot, humid breath. “Can you hear it? My heart… it’s going to split open for you.”
His hips moved faster, yet he held back at the edge, careful not to hurt you. The muscles in his tensed arms bulged prominently.
His suppressed trembling was an act of devotion.
His gaze clung greedily to your dazed face, but you offered no reaction.
He felt no sense of reality.
Desire and worship swirled like a vortex in those golden eyes. Watching you lose yourself because of him was the only spring that could quench his starving soul.
“More… please…” He begged, almost whimpering, his sweat-dampened bangs brushing your cheek. “Please… melt for me.”
All reason burned away the moment your toes curled tightly. In the overwhelming ecstasy, his teeth grazed your trembling collarbone, leaving crescent-shaped wet marks as he kissed you wildly.
These were the gentlest marks a monster tormented by hunger could offer.
But suddenly, the touch beneath his fingertips turned sticky and warm.
Dazed, he lifted his head, instinctively searching your eyes for the familiar tenderness, for any sign of your expression—only to be met with a shocking splash of scarlet.
His hands were covered in thick, warm liquid. At some point, those devout kisses had pierced through skin and bone. He leaned down, and this time, he truly kissed your still-beating heart. The clump of red quivered slightly in his palm, like a trapped, trembling bird, each contraction squeezing out more warm liquid that seeped between his fingers.
His breath caught, yet he couldn’t look away. The entire world narrowed down to the vivid warmth in his palm.
He watched as he lowered his head, as if performing a sacred ritual, and gently took the trembling tip into his mouth. First, the metallic sweetness of iron touched his tongue, followed by the soft resistance of muscle texture between his teeth.
He watched as he dared not bite down, only wrapping his lips around it carefully, mimicking a kiss with his tongue, licking up the warm beads of blood that kept oozing out. Every swallow was accompanied by the helpless throb of the heart in his mouth, the rhythm of life echoing through his jawbone into his empty chest.
He ate slowly, as if it were not devouring, but a long, drawn-out farewell. Soft, wet sounds escaped his lips, mixed with his suppressed sobs. Occasionally, bits of broken muscle were rolled up by his tongue.
He savored it gently, as if tasting a delicacy, letting the rich flavor of life spread across his taste buds—until the warmth in his mouth finally stopped beating, growing soft and still.
He lifted his head, his lips stained crimson, staring blankly at his empty hands. The heart was gone.
Only your scent remained, everywhere, seeping slowly from his lips into his hollow eyes.
As he stared at the scene, his soul finally returned to his body. His golden pupils contracted sharply into pinpricks, and a broken gasp erupted from his chest. For the first time, the monster’s heart slammed violently against his ribs, numbing his entire body. He tried to speak, to call your name, but his throat felt clogged with blood clots, only letting out hoarse, gurgling sounds. The sweetness in his mouth was not sugar—it was pieces of flesh.
Overwhelming despair and grief engulfed him. He reached out in agony, wanting to embrace your broken body, to cup the shattered remains, to touch your lifeless eyes with tears streaming down his face—but his fingers passed through empty air.
……
He jolted awake.
Only his heavy breathing filled the darkness. He lifted his trembling hands, checking them repeatedly—no blood, only cold sweat. On his large palms, his sharp claws glinted dangerously under the moonlight.
He’d had the dream again.
The moonlight, like cold silk, draped over his violently shaking back. The aftershocks of the nightmare clung to him like a leech, gnawing at his fragile sanity.
He huddled in the corner, like a wounded beast, struggling to hold back his whimpers. Those golden eyes, which could enchant countless people on stage, now held only childlike fear and helplessness. He still stared fixedly at his clean hands—no blood, nothing—but the memory of that sticky, warm touch, the thrill of the heart beating in his palm, was etched into his nerve endings with terrifying vividness.
He suddenly reached into his inner pocket, pulling out a neatly folded handkerchief. The plain white cotton was worn, even frayed at the edges, but under the moonlight, faint brown stains were still visible—traces of your blood from when you’d wiped the wound on his forehead. Proof of your first meeting.
Clutching it like a lifeline, he pressed the handkerchief tightly to his nose and mouth, breathing in deeply, greedily. Your scent on it was already very faint, almost an illusion, mixed with the fresh smell of soap and his own.
“Hmm…” He let out a sigh of relief, like a painkiller finally taking effect.
The moonlight remained cold, but his trembling back gradually stilled.
He thought of you again, your face clearly emerging in his mind, dispelling the bloodshed.
He remembered you the first time they met, smiling at him in that warm café filled with the aroma of coffee.
You’d known he loved sweet things, and that specially made dessert, topped with berries and frosting, was gently pushed across the table to him. His golden eyes had lit up instantly with surprise, happy as if he’d been given the most precious treasure in the world. Then he’d smiled at you, a sweet, cloying smile.
“Do you like it?” You’d asked then, watching him with a smile, your voice as soft as melted chocolate.
He’d nodded vigorously, his throat too tight with overwhelming happiness to speak. He’d only reached out his gloved hand, gently hooking your little finger on the table, shaking it slightly. A small gesture only the two of them understood, a sign of extreme joy and gratitude.
Recalling this, the piercing fear and remorse, the empty despair in his heart, were slowly filled by these warm details. He still clutched the handkerchief tightly, but no longer for redemption—just to touch this tangible happiness.
But slowly, the smile on his face began to change.
At first, it was just relief that he still remembered you, then pure happiness at the memory—but the curve lingered too long, and something else seeped in. Like a drop of thick ink falling into clear water, it quickly spread into a deep, dark hue.
Yes, he was happy to remember you.But “happiness” for a creature like him had never been the same as it was for humans.
His thoughts slipped uncontrollably back to the beginning of the dream—not the bloody ending, but earlier, before he’d… broken you.
He savored the expression you’d worn beneath him, so different from your usual gentleness—perhaps confusion, surrender, vulnerability lost to him. It was breathtakingly beautiful.
“Ah…” His breath hitched as he thought deeper, the sound echoing clearly in the silent tent.
The smile on his pale face widened, his lips curling into an almost grotesque arc. Deep in his golden pupils, those strange patterns reappeared, swirling slowly, glowing with an excited, dangerous light.
Your beautiful voice, the imagined moans, played on a loop in his chest and mind—more potent than any dangerous drug.
He relaxed his body, leaning back, one hand still clutching your handkerchief to his nose, greedily inhaling your almost non-existent scent. The other hand slid slowly downward, his fingertips wandering aimlessly over the thin fabric, imagining it was your touch.
His body was filled with your shadow.
Your smile, your slender fingers pushing the dessert toward him, your soft lips when you asked “Do you like it?”… these images were no longer comfort, but sparks igniting dry kindling.
His breath grew heavy again, the handkerchief pressed to his chest no longer bringing calm, but stimulation instead. The rough texture of the cotton rubbed against his skin, making him inevitably imagine it was your fingertips.
In the dark, his golden eyes were no longer filled with fear, but with a deep, greedy flame. He stared fixedly at the empty air, as if your invisible figure stood there.
In his mind, he began to weave that dream again, carefully, stroke by stroke. With a slower rhythm, more detailed brushstrokes.
It would not be a bloody possession, but… merging.
He often imagined what kind of beautiful expression you would wear when you truly became one with him. Would those eyes, always filled with gentleness or playfulness, cloud over with tears from unfamiliar pleasure, or shed silent tears?
Would those lips, which always called “Pierrot”, break into fragmented chants of his name, or be bitten tightly by your teeth to hold back shameful gasps?
Would that effortless, always-in-control demeanor of yours crumble under the overwhelming tide of desire, becoming as unfamiliar and… more enchanting as his?
The fantasy itself made him tremble more than any real touch. Every imagined detail was like the finest thread, winding around his heart, tightening slowly but firmly, bringing a suffocating pleasure.
Under the moonlight, his huddled posture gradually changed.
That warmth he’d clung to did not stay at the level of comfort. It began to deteriorate, ferment, spreading along his limbs like wildfire, igniting the lust deep in his bones.
That familiar heat, which had only surged when he’d spied on you in countless late nights, swept over him with unprecedented ferocity.
At first, his fingertips had stroked the handkerchief gently, in a comforting gesture, but now they unconsciously pressed harder, crumpling the fabric. His breathing grew heavy again, more so than when he’d woken from the nightmare, filled with an anxious, unrelenting longing.
A strange, tight ache spread from deep within his body, declaring its presence clearly and strongly. The desire confined beneath the thin fabric awakened, standing tall as never before, with an undeniable hardness and heat, urgently seeking release.
He squeezed his legs together uncomfortably, trying to ease the torment, but only made the feeling more intense. In his mind, your face, your voice, were no longer just warm memories—they twisted and tangled, weaving into more concrete, intimate illusions.
He seemed to hear you whispering in his ear with a smile, breathing softly against his skin, then your voice gradually turning into breathless moans of pleasure. He saw you beneath him, your eyes blurred, your lips slightly parted, and fine sweat beading on your neck.
“Pierrot…”
In his mind, your face and voice no longer brought peace, but transformed into suffocating temptation. You leaned close, calling his name softly, like an invitation.
He seemed to hear another tone in the dream—faint, delicate, filled with the pleasure you could barely bear, tapping repeatedly on his tense nerves.
He let out a confused, painful groan.
His hand trembled, hesitating, but in the end, he couldn’t resist the combined urge of instinct and imagination, sliding downward slowly.
He moved awkwardly, his Adam’s apple bobbing violently. He bit the handkerchief between his teeth, trying to muffle the dirty sounds that threatened to escape.
With a clumsy, almost punitive force, he wrapped his hand tightly around the burning hardness through the rough fabric. He closed his eyes, sinking completely into the abyss of sin and ecstasy that you dominated. Every rapid stroke was accompanied by a silent scream of your name in his heart, and the image of your face, lost in pleasure because of him.
No gentle prelude, only the explosion after extreme suppression. His arm muscles tensed, veins bulging, driving his palm to grind harshly again and again.
The rough fabric rubbed against the sensitive tip, bringing intense pleasure mixed with a hint of pain. Muffled sounds escaped his throat through the handkerchief—unintelligible, like the whimper of a wounded cub.
He imagined it was your hand.
Your hand controlling him, torturing him, granting him this ultimate punishment and pleasure.
“Ah…”
The fantasy was too stimulating. A particularly hard stroke made him throw his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing wildly.
The light hair on his forehead was soaked with sweat, sticking to his unnaturally flushed skin. His closed eyelashes trembled like the wings of a dying butterfly. He dared not open his eyes to look at this lewd scene, but his mind was filled with your face.
Your lips curved in a gentle smile, your eyes that seemed to see through everything when you looked at him, and the illusion of you lost in pleasure beneath him.
This imagination drove him more mad than any direct touch.
His movements grew faster, more uncontrollable.
The rough fabric rubbed against the delicate skin at high speed, making rustling, wet sounds that echoed clearly in the silent room. His hips thrust upward uncontrollably, spasming, meeting the imagined violation. His thighs trembled violently, his tense toes scraping messy folds into the sheets.
“Ah… you…”
Broken gasps spilled from his teeth, mixed with sweet laughter.
He remembered the curve of your eyes when you smiled, the warmth of your fingertips, the breath of your whispers in his ear.
It was as if you were really there in the dark, watching him.
Because of this thought, he smiled sincerely.
Ah, you have no idea.
I want to ruin you.To mark every inch of your body, inside and out, with my traces.
I want to hear your gasps as you lose control because of me.
I want to see the expression you wear for me, and only me.
I love you… love you to madness. My flesh and blood scream for you. I need to have all of you.
I want your bones, your flesh and blood…
You’ve made me so greedy, so debased—and yet, because of this, I love you more, more than ever…
Because I love you. So…
For us, my darling.
But you refuse to take it with your own hands…You won’t let me touch you…
Yet I still love you, still want to possess everything of yours—your all, your every last part.
I love you,I love…I love you.
This contradictory thought—an extreme longing warring with extreme restraint—was like the most potent aphrodisiac, sending him hurtling toward a destructive climax. And yet he felt even emptier, far from sated.
He shifted from kneeling to standing on his knees, his body taut as a bowstring beneath the moonlight.
The futility of his earlier self-pleasuring left him agitated; the emptiness hadn’t been filled at all, but had instead grown bottomless in his imagination.
His desire lay fully exposed to the cold air, throbbing with pain from longing.
He panted raggedly, white mist curling away into the frigid night. His golden pupils blazed in the dark, roiling with primal lust, unflinching honesty toward his own desires, and a pleasure so immersive it bordered on agony.
He needed a more tangible touch, a stronger mark of you to fill this maddening void.
He lowered his head, his gaze lingering greedily over his outstretched palm, his knuckles twitching slightly. Here, there was no longer cold air—only his delusions.
*“Your warm, tight embrace…
And mine… slowly grinding against that slick, soft flesh, feeling every quiver and suck of your insides…
Yes.
That’s it… squeeze me tight.”*
A satisfied sigh rumbled in his throat as his hips began to mimic the rhythm of his imagined thrusts, rocking back and forth.
His free hand flew to his neck involuntarily, feeling his pulse hammer beneath his fingers as if you’d left bruises there.
His fingertips rubbed relentlessly at the most sensitive tip, sending sharp jolts of numbness shooting through him. Wetness seeped out uncontrollably, soaking his palm and making soft, sticky sounds in the silence.
The noise drove him even wilder.
It was your warm, tight insides. Each thrust went deeper, harder, until he was fully swallowed by you. Instead of filling the void, this self-deceptive simulation only made it expand further, gnawing away at his sanity.
He dropped heavily to his hands and knees on the rumpled sheets, his back arching into a trembling curve before he pushed forward hard.
The position brought a deeper illusion of being split open, drawing a long, satisfied yet painful groan from his lips as dizziness washed over him.
“Ah, my darling…”
His arms drove his hips into violent, urgent movements, a sharp, possessive rhythm as he thrust madly forward. Each impact made the mattress creak under the strain, mixing with the wet slap of skin against skin—sounds that rang harshly in the silent room.
He lost control of his breathing, his voice deep and hoarse, broken into an incoherent litany, every gasp thick with scorching lust.
“Inside… so deep inside…”
He murmured to you in his mind, imagining just how devastatingly deep this position could reach. And in his mind, you let out a high, uncontrolled moan, as if being utterly possessed, ruined by him.
The thought had every muscle in his body tensing to the breaking point. His movements grew rougher, faster, fueled by a destructive madness as he chased the imagined sound of your voice.
He threw his head back, his too-long hair swaying with his violent movements, veins throbbing fiercely beneath his pale skin.
His body was taut as a drawn bow, every muscle trembling with the height of pleasure and torment.
The plain white handkerchief, already soaked with sweat and precum, had turned a translucent dark color. As his hips gave one final, convulsive thrust, it slipped from his sweaty fingers, falling silently into the depths of the rumpled sheets to sway with his movements.
Consciousness frayed away in a tidal wave of sensation, his vision blotted out by pure white light. In the last instant before his senses were completely overwhelmed, he summoned the last of his sanity to growl a satisfied, husky baritone rumble from the depths of his throat, a final confirmation:
“…All… yours…”
With this ultimate declaration, the dam of repressed desire finally burst. Thick, hot white spurts erupted violently, seemingly endless, spilling freely over his taut abdomen and trembling thighs—tangible proof of his uncontrolled pleasure. Each violent shudder wracked his body, as if all his strength had been drained away.
All yours.
He collapsed dazedly onto the damp sheets, his chest heaving. The air was thick with the sweet, musky scent of lust. The aftershocks of his climax still skittered along his nerve endings like tiny electric shocks, leaving him trembling. Yet the mess, the emptiness of his release, could not mask the even more blazing longing surging from the bottom of his heart.
All yours.
This realization made him tremble more than the release itself. He curled up, burying his burning cheeks in the pillow that still held a trace of tears, a huge, dazed smile tugging uncontrollably at his lips. His legs pressed together instinctively, as if this could hold onto the illusion of being filled by you.
He began to trace your features in his mind once more—the way your hair fell when you bent to make coffee, the gentle tilt of your head when you listened to him, the elegance of your fingertips brushing the edge of a cup, and those eyes that always made his heart race whenever you looked at him.
Merely imagining this sent his newly steadying breath into disarray again. A familiar warmth stirred deep in his lower abdomen, a sweet, aching tension building. He hugged himself tightly, tossing and turning between the handkerchief that still held your scent and his fantasies, waiting, waiting—as if your gaze would wrap around him once more.
And the night had never felt so long.
——
No response will come.
So
Whether it’s a nightmare or a wet dream, it’s always the same face.
So a friend and I were talking about the characterization of Pierrot and how, well, the general fandom seems to be looking at him.
I've had a feeling that a good chunk of people only have surface level knowledge of Pierrot, or even just get most of their "content" from fanon, rather than looking at the actual source material.
Pierrot himself during his nighttime rambles shows us, the reader, so much more. Yes, he shows MC his sweet side, smiling and showing affection. And when we make all the choices he agrees with, he plays nice.
But I stated it this way "He is playing nice because it is working. If it wasn't working, he wouldn't BE nice."
MC doesn't get to see Pierrot being scary because he's trying to do things the easy way. However, he makes it abundantly clear that he's not taking no for an answer, and that you belong to him, period.
So yes, Pierrot comes off as a cute innocent precious bean who could do no wrong, but if that's all you see, you've fallen for his little act.
He can be. And will be. Very scary. Even in front of MC. He's just usually been good at holding back. He does his best to hide his fangs, but sometimes he slips when things aren't going his way.
I was just reminded of this topic, but neko mentioned that two of the circus crew are similar species. We know that Doctor and Ticket Taker are def the most different, and I don't think Pierrot is similar too any of them. I think that mainly leaves: Jester, Columbina or Harlequin.
I don't have any visuals (Im too lazy and I can't find it on google) but I remember some key elements. Mostly being with Jester and Columbina they have two Lil horns on their heads. I know its horns on jester because he bothered to hide them under his hat in the original costume comic.
However, Harlequin and Columbina have the most similarities with (from what I believe to be) tendrils on her back (it looks like bow's strings at first) and she has similar legs to Harlequin (Digitrade)
I was good and got picture examples. A part of me wonders if monster have sexual dimorphism, cause the horns are different but the other features aren't.
It would be fucked if Harlequin got 'rejected' by a member of his species, but I don't think they care that much about stuff like that.
hello my lovelies, i hope you are all having a good night <3
also sidenote- idk if theres any former obey me fans here, but a big thing i remember about the obey me fandom in fics was grabbing on they horns while they gave u head... >:3 i haven't seen that yet in the tfc fandom (i vaguely feel like i remember someone posting about it..? if yall know who PLEASE tag them) but i was reading an old diavolo smutfic i used to really like and got reminded of the idea so... yay inspo :)
WARNINGS: MDNI, smut, pierrot x reader, AFAB she/her reader, teasing, teasing while driving (keep ur eyes on the road in real life dont actually do this), face sitting, oral (reader receiving), pierrot is needy, pierrot likes his horns pulled, pierrot cries because it feels good, author likes pierrot when hes pitiful, pierrot has a knot, monsterfucking, begging, praise (ofc its a pierrot fic)
Part 1
WC: ~3k
The ride home was tense. Pierrot’s gaze was fixed on you the entire time, drool slowly leaking down his mask as his mind ran rampant with the thought of you in the lingerie. He was adorable, panting behind his mask as his hands squeezed his thighs in order to try and calm himself down.
“Pierrot, love, do you need anything else while we’re out? We can stop somewhere on the w-”
“No.”
You sighed dramatically, fighting back a grin. Humming to yourself, you tapped your fingers on the steering wheel, drumming to the beat of the song playing softly on the radio. Glancing to the side, you caught Pierrot’s gaze. He was glowering at you, no doubt fighting his lack of impulse control. Turning your gaze back to the road, a mischievous glint lit up in your eyes.
You moved your hand off the steering wheel, slowly inching it towards Pierrot. He watched your movements like a hawk, his breath catching as your hand met his thigh. You gently caressed the sensitive area through his clothes, teasing his inner thighs. He whimpered, his thighs spreading to allow you more room. You inched closer to his bulging cock, lightly running a finger along the seam covering his impressive length. He pressed his hips up into your hand, already losing himself in you.
‘M-my lady, please, give me more…” he pleaded, letting his eyes fall shut. You grinned, keeping your eyes on the road in front of you. At his plea, you removed your hand, returning it to the steering wheel as he groaned in displeasure.
“What’s wrong, lovey?” you asked with faux sweetness, feigning a concerned look at him.
Now, Pierrot was always sweet with you. He was constantly making sure you were comfortable, safe, and happy, especially when it came to sex. He was so much bigger than you, and he knew you could get hurt easily, But at the end of the day, he was still a monster, one who got overwhelmed by your tightness, your taste, your smell. You knew he could lose himself because you’d seen him do it. You’d never teased him, however, more so because you’d never properly had the chance to than anything. But, right now, you found yourself enjoying making him all needy for you.
You really had no idea how easy it was to fray his last nerve.
“You know what you’re doing,” he seethed out, face closing in on yours as he glared at you through his eyelashes. You snickered.
“I don’t know nothin’” you drawled out sarcastically. “I’m just ready to get home and put my new clothes away, maybe try a few more on,” you grinned, glancing over at him.
Your smile dropped as you heard his rumbling growl. “Either drive faster, or park so I can take you now. I can’t take this,” he growled out. You bit your lip. Fuck, was he that pent up already?
“I’ll keep driving,” you chose, upping your speed by about five miles per hour before resetting your cruise control. “Hey, Pierrot?” you asked softly. He grunted, signaling he was listening. “What do you wanna do when we get home?” you asked, smiling coyly. He gaped at you for a moment.
“M-my love, are you actually asking me that?” he whined out. You nodded. He let out a frustrated groan, burying his face in his hands. He really couldn’t handle the teasing, it seemed. “I want you, my love. I want to taste you, feel you- I want it so bad I can hardly take it,” he rushed out breathlessly, leaning over to wrap himself around your arm, nuzzling against your shoulder. You kissed the top of his head lovingly.
“Anything else?” you prodded. You rubbed your thighs together, his need making you lightheaded.
“Keep talking and I’ll show you what else,” he growled flippantly, pressing his mouth against your arm, nipping at the sensitive skin. You moaned softly, trying to shake him off.
“I’m trying to drive, baby,” you reminded him. He glared up at you.
“Then pull over,” he groaned, gazing up at you with wide, needy doe eyes.
“We’re three minutes from home, love. Be patient for me,” you murmured reassuringly, abandoning the teasing for a moment.
“I want you,” he rasped out, crawling up to press his mouth against your ear. ”I need you, my love. Won’t you let me?” Pierrot looked pitiful, pawing unabashedly at your chest as he spoke lowly into your ear, his cock tenting against his pants as drool slipped down his mask.
Pierrot did such a good job begging, making himself look pitiful and needy, that you nearly forgot what awaited you at home, when he couldn’t hold on to the sweet act anymore. He was still a monster, at the end of the day. There was a reason he had claws, and teeth.
He knew how to use them, too.
After an excruciating three minutes, you threw the car into park. Pierrot nearly fell out of the car with how fast he got out. He scrambled over to your side, opening your door as you stepped out calmly. You handed him the keys to unlock the door to your apartment, as you grabbed the bags.
As soon as you walked into the kitchen, Pierrot had already locked the front door, trailing your heels. As he shut the bedroom door, his hands found your hips, pulling you to him as he ground his hard on against your ass. “Hahh~ m-my love, I need you so bad,” he panted, nuzzling into the back of your neck. You bit back a moan, swatting him away.
“Let me put it on first,” you grinned. He whined, hesitating before he stepped away.
You slipped away to the bathroom, bag in hand. Putting on the lacy lingerie proved much easier the second time, having a better understanding of where all the straps were supposed to go. You looked in the mirror, checking yourself out. The midpiece that wrapped around your waist made your hips look wider thanks to its light compression, the garters pushing against the plush of your thighs. The lace fabric over your pussy and chest was see through, letting your skin peek out behind the red. The burgundy shade complimented your skin well, and overall you looked incredible.
As you unlocked the bathroom door, stepping into the room, Pierrot’s gaze narrowed on you instantly. You waved shyly to him, feeling suddenly on display. His pupils narrowed into tiny hearts, his sharp teeth forming a toothy grin as he studied you.
“My lady, you look…” he slurred out, standing to slowly walk towards you. “Divine…” he finished, before letting his hands roughly grip your waist, pulling you to him. You rested your hands on his chest, looking up at him as you gave a faux pout.
“You really like it?” you asked, batting your lashes up at him. He leaned in closer, pressing his forehead to yours in a loving gesture.
“I adore it. I adore you, my dear,” he practically moaned, before capturing your lips with his own. He kissed you hungrily, nipping and sucking at your bottom lip before letting his long, thick tongue press into your mouth, swirling around your own as you whined breathlessly. His hands moved to cup your ass, picking you up and laying you back onto the bed as he moved to rest between your legs. You parted from the kiss, knocking off his hat so you could let his hair down. He groaned as you tangled your fingers at the roots of his hair, before gripping onto his horns firmly, pulling him closer. He hissed in pleasure at the firm grip before moving his hands to your hips, tugging you closer to him so he could grind his hard cock against your heat.
“Feel so good, baby,” you rasped before pulling him back in again for another searing kiss, using his horns to guide his movements. You had no clue why you’d never tried that before, but he seemed incredibly receptive to it. You pulled him closer to you using his horns, the shuddering moan he let out making your knees weak.
“Gah- my lady, ride my face. Please, ride my face-” he pleaded suddenly, tugging against the grip on his horns as his eyes rolled back. Your eyes went wide as you pulled harder at his horns, the pressure making his mouth fall open, needy moans spilling out.
“You want me to?” you asked. He nodded.
“Please my love, there’s nothing I want more. I want to be surrounded by you, all I can taste, all I can smell- please?” he begged. You bit back a moan at how needy he was, instead pushing lightly at his chest.
As you went to take the panties of the lingerie off, Pierrot stopped you. “Please, keep them on,” he whispered. You smiled, nodding. He laid back on the bed, flat on his back as he tugged you over by the arm. You straddled just over his chest, making him growl. “C’mere,” he demanded. You inched forward slowly, until you were hovering just over his hungry mouth.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, am I?” you asked gently. He shook his head, tugging you down. You fought back a bit, sitting up on your knees. “I’m serious, Pierrot, will this be too much pressure on your horns?” you asked.
“It won’t, my love. Please trust me. I need you,” he pleaded, his fingers twitching at your sides. After taking a deep breath, you nodded, lowering yourself over his mouth. You tried to hover over him, but the second your slick met his tongue, he was tugging your entire weight down onto his face, smothering himself in your cunt as he moaned loudly, pushing the lingerie to the side.
As soon as his tongue thrust itself into you, you moaned, bracing your hands on the bedframe behind him. You felt one of his hands move from your hip before meeting your hands, tugging them down. Your eyes widened as he placed your hands on his horns, his eyes gazing up at you pitifully. You gently braced yourself on his horns, your legs nearly immediately shaking at the way his tongue bullied itself desperately into your walls at the pressure against his scalp.
“Mm fuck- Pierrot, feels good-” you panted out, grinding down onto his tongue like he’d asked you to earlier. You heard him whimper below you, his eyes rolling back as you rode his hungry mouth. Your clit grinded against the flat of his mask as his tongue stayed buried inside of you, working itself against your gspot with practiced ease. You used his horns as leverage, helping you guide his head the way you needed as you used him. Pierrot’s hands moved to your thighs, switching between squeezing the flesh of them and playing with the garters, his eyes fluttering shut with pure euphoria. His every sense was filled with you, and he was completely overwhelmed by it in the best way.
“Oh god, love- I-I’m close,” you whined through gritted teeth. You normally didn’t cum this fast, but you couldn’t deny you had made yourself a victim to your own teasing as well, Pierrot’s need making you slick with arousal before you ever walked in the door. He moaned against you, the vibrations shooting through your cunt, only serving to push you closer. With a loud moan, you came, grinding down onto Pierrot’s face, tugging him closer by his horns as he held you taught against him, letting you use his mouth to cum. He let you grind yourself through your orgasm, his tongue responding to your movements.
Pierrot pulled his tongue from your walls slowly, making you squirm at the slight overstimulation. He used the leverage he had on your thighs to pull you down, flipping the two of you over until he hovered above you, your back to the bed. He grinned, leaning in to nuzzle against your neck as he began to shove his pants down.
“I’m sorry, my love, I don’t think I can be gentle tonight,” he moaned into your neck, nipping hard at the skin, no doubt making you bruise lightly. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close.
“Then don’t be,” you whispered, letting your breath linger against the soft skin of his ear. His long, ivory hair fell around the two of you in cascades, making him the only thing you could see. Your eyelids fluttered at how surrounded you felt, only making you feel more sensitive when his tip prodded against your entrance.
Your back arched as he thrusted inside of you roughly, nearly half of his cock sheathing itself inside of you in one motion. He moaned as you cried out, rutting himself further inside of you.
“You look so pretty, my lady. Red, like my tent. Like you’re mine,” he babbled possessively. You placed your hands over his, holding them gently as you laid there and took his needy thrusts, unable to do much else.
“All yours, lovey-” you gasped out, the affectionate nickname making his cock throb inside of you.
“All mine. Mine,” he snarled out, before setting a punishing pace. Every thrust of his cock made stars pop in your vision, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you desperately held onto him. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper as the tip of his cock kissed against your cervix. “Please, pull my horns again. Gah- please-!” Pierrot begged, his voice rough with need. Still dazed with the pleasure of his length driving into you, you shakily brought your hands up, gripping his horns and pulling his head back, making him look down at you.
His reaction was near immediate, tears of pleasure springing to his eyes as he cried out. “Good, good, thank you, so good-!” he babbled mindlessly, rutting against you like he was trying to break you. After a few punishing thrusts, his cock slipped out, leaving him driving against your tummy. His tears of pleasure became tears of desperation, dripping down the cheeks of his mask as he tried to push back in. “No, n-no my love, I need it, please don’t take it from me,” he whimpered pitifully, his cock being met with the barrier of the lace panties.
Before you could reach down and help him, he was already snarling, using his claws to puncture the fragile lace, effectively ripping it off of you. Pushing his cock back into your cunt, he moaned in utter relief, setting that same punishing pace again.
“Those- were- new!” you whined out between thrusts, the pleasure already making your head spin. In response, Pierrot leaned down to kiss you, letting his tongue slide through your mouth as he brought a thumb to rest over your clit, rubbing circles over it in time with his thrusts.
“I’ll buy you more,” he promised, “I just need you now.” His tone was guilty, but not apologetic, only further proven by his pace speeding up as you clenched around him. He used his free hand to tug your thigh up, pushing it against your chest as the tip of his cock suddenly bullied right against your gspot.
“Pierrot- fuck, too much-!” you squealed, your eyes rolling back as you meanly tugged his head by the horns.
His rumbling snarl was your only warning before his knot suddenly inflated, his cock shooting ropes of cum into you as he growled. Your legs shook at the sudden size increase, his thumb never ceasing his movements over your clit. His cock throbbed inside of you as he came, the feeling being dizzying amongst the waves of pleasure.
“I’m- I’m gonna-” you tried to warn, though your voice failed you. Just as Pierrot came down from his high, you reached yours, your walls milking him making him feel oversensitive. He continued humping lazily into you, keeping that constant pressure on your clit as your orgasm washed over you. Your legs shook where they were wrapped around his waist, your hands tugging his horns to ground yourself, making Pierrot groan.
As you finally came down, you released his horns, panting. “...Was I too rough, my dear?” he asked softly. You kept your gaze up, practically looking through him. You wanted to respond, really, but the shockwaves resounding from your high were still washing over you.
After finding your voice for a few moments, you shook your head in response. “Perfect. Felt good,” you panted. A silly smile spread across his face as he realized you were just really fucked out, obviously feeling proud of yourself.
“We should buy more of these, my lady,” he purred, his knot throbbing inside of you at just the thought. You let out a soft groan.
“You can buy more. This one's already unwearable,” you commented, faux annoyance in your voice.
“‘S not unwearable,” he commented, rubbing his hand against your chest, where the bra still remained intact. “Just what was in my way,” he chuckled. You tried and failed to hide your smile, instead opting to kiss his cheek instead.
“So… the horn thing is new,” you said, hoping to get more information. His face burned a bright red as he nodded softly, but not elaborating. You laughed, knocking your forehead against his in a loving manner as he slowly lowered his weight over you, letting his knot naturally deflate with time as he effectively smothered you.
“Thank you, my love, for indulging me,” he mumbled shyly against your neck, licking and nuzzling at the skin there, something you, at this point, recognized as him scent marking you. You happily let him, finding the action adorable.
