Call me Coco | Trashy internet smut hub cave | 18+ Blog | Minors DNI | Dead Dove & Darkfic content | Serving hot yanderes & obsessive bitches | What is a posting schedule? — Irregular posts | adult y/o
I wanna start of by giving out a massive content warning for my entire blog. What I write is purely fiction. It isn't intented to harm anyone and I DO NOT support/condone any of the dark aspects of my writing in real life.
I also kindly ask that you DO NOT INTERACT with my blog if you're under 18 or easily triggered/disturbed by what I post. (Seriously, have your age in your bio. If I have even the slightest hunch that you're underage, you will be blocked.)
My stories contain the appropriate warnings at the beginning of each post. Generally, beware of yandere and noncon themes.
Therefore: Proceed at your own risk!
Introduction:
Hi, my name is Coco (she/they) and this is the place where I occasionally toss my ramblings about characters & other stuff I like. Feel free to send me requests for fics, drabbles, headcanons etc. Just keep in mind that it might take me some to come around to it due to my personal life. I apologize for potential grammar mistakes in advance, english is not my first language.
Other Rules:
You'll mostly see smutty, angsty & dead dovey fics containing themes of obsession on here. I write almost exclusively for reader inserts. The majority of my works are written for fem, afab or gender-neutral readers. It's just a personal preference, I won't necessarily decline requests for masc/amab readers.
I will not tolerate discrimination or anyone looking to start drama on my blog. I use the block button very liberally, so be polite and heed the rules.
I also do not consent to have my content reposted anywhere without explicit permission or used for the training of AI/LLMs.
Please also refrain from posting links to my blog or posts on TikTok, Instagram or any other site with a lot of minors.
Fandoms/Stuff I write for:
focus changes with whatever I'm fixated on at the moment
Yandere character concepts & OCs
TFC (current hyperfixation)
Technically TPOF and BTD 2 (only gatobob's characters) but I don't feel as confident with my writing here
TCM franchise (the og two movies, the 03/06 remake & the game)
(Degrees of Lewdity — I'm technically not an active part of this fandom anymore but I will occasionally still borrow the (very conveniently tropey) characters and also post whatever ideas have collected dust in my drafts during the years as writing exercise. Expect canon divergence, ooc and wacky writing along with the fact that I might completely stop posting about it one day.)
(More to come!)
Feel free to send me requests for anything stated above, however keep in mind that
I will NOT write for:
Pedophilia
Bestiality
Extreme guro
Piss or scat
Underage characters in explicit contexts (Aged up will be decided on a case by case basis)
Vore
Fetishized giving birth
Raceplay or Detrans kink
Blood-related incest
RPF
I do write fluff but it's not my fav thing
That's everything I could think of rn so the list may expand. If you're not sure if something's okay, feel free to ask.
I might also decline requests if they're just generally out of my comfort zone, don't align with my interests or if I just don't know what to add to it (which doesn't mean the request is bad).
The first night of the game from Pierrot's perspective
Pairing(s): Pierrot x Reader (gn)
Warnings/Additional Info: Yandere, Horror elements, Gender-neutral reader (no pronouns), Non-consensual kissing, Non-consensual drug use, Somnophilia, Disturbing thoughts, Allusions to vore, The dove isn't dead it's simply sleeping
The sound of the TV mindlessly carries on well past midnight, the scheduled programming having long since switched into a teleshopping channel. It's grainy colors reflect onto the balcony door. On it, the moderators face distorts into a bleary quality; like a doll in a puppet theater.
Beyond it's meager illumination, the rest of the studio apartment remains shrowded in shadows. Your bedside lamp has been unlit for several hours now.
Next to it lies a half-eaten lollipop and a clock. It ticks in minute intervalls— the only movement.
Until something slowly shifts. A quiet zap is all that's needed for everything to fully disappear into darkness.
Only your ticking clock and the quiet hum-buzz of the fridge. All else is silent. Would be silent. To a human ear.
The fridge is humming in the kitchen, connected to your bedroom by a cased opening, only a few feet from your bed. It's build into a shelf, at the very back of the kitchen and conveniently tall with some space between it and the wall. An annoying spot: Too small to put anything into it but big enough to display the dust and cobwebs it's constantly collecting to every visitor.
Thump... Thump... Thump...
About 50 times per minute for the last 10 minutes or so. This tender, beating sound in your chest. It echoes in sync with the slow breaths falling from your sweet lips. Finally, your blood pressure stops dropping. Deep sleep.
A tile in your kitchen, one that has been lose since forever, creaks quietly. There's a pause. The next step is silent.
Barely visible— only thanks to the full moon light, moves a tall shadow. Humanoid only in apperance, moving forward with slow but unnatural manoeuvres. It's back is hunched forward and it's fingers elongated to sharp points. On it's head, strange appendages sway with every step, yet remain oddly stiff at the top.
Quieter than the drop of a pin, the figure jerkily bends further as it's towering form passes the threshold from the kitchen into your room.
Yellow eyes now glow in it's darkness.
They seem to flare even brighter at the sight of your sleeping figure. Like burning embers.
None of the wooden panels on your floor even make a sound as your uninvited guest stalks closer. Closer and closer towards your bed.
With every inhale, your tasty scent becomes stronger and stronger. Porcelain-covered nostrils flare at the sensation and a low growl echoes in the room.
Only the moon illuminates your sleeping face. But Pierrot can see it without much trouble as he cranes his neck down and down towards it.
So close... Mere inches lie between your face and his. Close enough for your gentle little breaths to fawn against his mask. He can't take his eyes off of you, you're real, you're real—
Pierrot can't contain his happiness, staring at you with blown-wide orbs for half an eternity. He knows he shouldn't risk watching you like this for too long. It's something that tends to wake humans. Possibly even with his help.
And yet, he can't help himself. Not when you look like this. So beautiful. So at ease.
He can't help it, when he starts whispering raspy promises to your unconcious form. Things he's thought the whole day watching you and has to tell, lest he'd boil alive.
Or show, and that would be too soon.
Even if Pierrot felt like he had known you for years the moment he first saw your kind image. So perfect, he'd thought he must surely be dreaming. You two have to be soulmates. All these years unknowingly spend waiting for you, waiting to finally meet you. And now he has all this love built up, ready to burst and fill you with it.
And he would. Even force it if he-
No, no, he wouldn't have to, of course...
Clawed hands gingerly creep up to cup the tender skin of your cheeks. So warm and vulnerable. All of you humans are so fragile... Pierrot regards you like a freshly blossomed ipê flower and holds you like one too: Gently— even as he longs to sink his claws into your sweet flesh and keep you in his grasp forever.
One trembling hand slowly runs down the thin skin of your neck. Down your arm and to your ribs, resting just shy above your abdomen while the other savours the feel of stroking your peaceful face. Your body echoes with the beat of your heart and Pierrot revels in feeling it rise and fall with every breath. He revels in the power you don't even know he's holding in that moment. Just like he did in the café.
The way your lovely face lit up the black with such emotion, such fear. Gods, Pierrot could taste the aroma of it in the air, a sweetener to the lingering scent of coffee. How your body heated up and trembled with your hearts adrenaline. That fast, intimate beating of your naive little heart. Pierrot sucks in air through his teeth, trying not to salivate on you. You looked the most delicious in that moment. With how your skin got plumper and your clothes seemingly tighter... He'd wanted to gobble you up whole.
Not that he would lose himself in such a way. You would be in good hands with him. Always.
Forever.
Pierrot leans closer to you in a sudden, rigid motion. Yellowed eyes narrow and laser-focus on your softly opened mouth. Yes... you two are meant to be. Chained together eternally. Now that he found you, there's no life without you. You won't flee, he won't let you. Can't. Pierrot would rather sew your hand to his. Would rather rip into you and—
"You must be mine..."
It's meant to be! Nothing could go wrong in fate. No, no, no... His clawed hands tighten their grip on you.
Besides, you want him too. He knows you do. Why else would you still sleep so deeply with your tempting mouth so invitingly open? His gaze doesn't want to leave it. That velvety part of you so welcoming to his thumb stroking it.
"You will be mine."
As soon as Pierrot rips off his mask, his mouth is on yours. Almost groaning into the kiss as he savours the feel of your vulnerable skin.
His huge body, suddenly feeling so weightless. He hasn't felt this happy since... since the last morning. The warmth radiating from your lips heats up the unnatural colored skin of his own. It spreads to his checks and down his entire chest like a sudden fever.
A feeling that's so wonderful, Pierrot all but forgets that the low dose of the sedative he's given you can't completely garuantee your unconsciousness for too long.
It's certainly not something that's on his mind when he grasps your slack jaw, sharp fingers trembling with want, and slowly let's his amber tongue slip past your lips.
Immediately, his head starts pounding with the glee of finally getting a taste of you. Aromatic, slightly sweet and carrying this note that's so purely you, not even your delicious scent could've prepared him for it. He'd bet you'd taste even better underneath your skin.
He tilts your head up, letting your mouth gape further, as he stuffs more of his long tongue into your tiny mouth. You make the softest of mewling sounds at the fullness but remain fast asleep. Your wet flesh is so smooth, Pierrot can't resist running the muscle all over it, needing to know every crevice, to burn them into his very brainstem.
Imagining your saliva mixing with his— a part of you and of him melting together, has the monster man shuddering with pleasure. His upper body feels so light from the thought, he has to be careful to keep it from putting too much weight onto your motionless torso. That delicate torso vibrating under his razor-sharp claws with the beat of your beautiful heart.
A heart that would belong to him soon.
Meanwhile this; pressing his own lips to yours, makes the wait more bearable. Even if barely. He can already feel himself growing beneath his costume...
In his lust-filled haze, Pierrot slips more and more of himself into your mouth. Parts of his tounge press against your teeth. He runs it over half your upper row with a curious hunger. Even the canines are tiny and blunt. A biological footnote compared to his. And yet, these differences only further ignite his desire to have you, to embed his teeth all over into your yielding body and—
A sudden spike of your heartrate rips Pierrot back into reality. There's a low gagging sound coming from your throat and he quickly draws his tongue away from there.
He remains still as a corpse, tongue still poised stiff at the entrance of your mouth. His nerves only start to ease once your heartrate calms down again.
Pierrot knows he should stop now. But his tongue takes one last tentative swirl over your own, cooing at how tiny it is. He has to take another. And another, as he imagines it being much less slack but more lively and simply shy. How it would explore his own in return.
Only with a ton of mental effort can Pierrot manage to withdraw from you.
Standing beside your bed and still looking down at your angelic face which was now flushed and your kissed-up lips glistening with his saliva. Like you were created by the stars as a perfect gift just for him and him alone. The corners of his eternal smile stretch wider.
A claw reaches for your face again. But only to wipe away the traces of spit from your lips. Then, Pierrot hesitates.
His eyes slowly rake over the shape your body creases into your clothes. As if it's giving him small hints that it is just waiting underneath. Waiting for him. Pierrot sharply closes his maw to keep himself from salivating on you.
You don't even know what your helplessness is doing to him. Or do you, you gorgeous little tease?
Pierrot knows it may be too soon for your mind. But your heart? Your body? My, it certainly has to mean to give him those signals.
Thinking, he cocks his head to the side in one rigid motion, his intense gaze never leaving you.
You're sleeping so, so beautifully.
Maybe he could give you what you want. Both of you. The thought goes straight to his groin.
Unbidden images manifest in his mind. Of your lovely mouth gasping for air with your body bare, wet and full of lovebites. Only for his eyes and his eyes alone. Of you looking at him with those eyes of yours. With lust? Fear? Strangely, he thinks he'd like both.
He'd make you feel good whichever one it'd be.
The fantasies have him hardening again. Pierrot forces himself to look away, yet his shadow seems to reach out towards your vulnerable body.
Talon-like fingers itch for flesh but instead embed themselves into the underside of your bed. Breathy growls heave through his gritted fangs. "Gentle...", he whispers to himself.
He can control himself for now. Even if just barely. He would do absolutely everything for you.
Slowly, he turns away from you and walks towards the balcony with soundless steps. He opens it, pockets the laced lollipop from your bedside table and looks back at you one last time. The cool wind hisses past the outline of Pierrot's face that twists into a look too intense to call fond. He blows you a kiss and puts on his human-mask again before disappearing into the night.
He'd be gentle for you. Patient. Until your yes or your no would let him reveal his true nature.
Tried my hand at a tiny comic, I hope yall like it ^^
Some lines are heavily inspired by (basically plucked from) the game and AMAs.
"Leaving is Sort of an Option" - Ticket Taker Comic
"Leaving is Not an Option"
POV: Things don’t sit well with you after your visit at the circus, so you decided to tell Pierrot that perhaps you should part ways while you're ahead. Don't worry, he takes it well ^^
I don't just want the monster forms of the clowns to look like actual monsters, I want them to be actually scary.
Like, backrooms creature analog horror kind of scary. I want to be able to imagine that their original forms could strike a primal, ancient kind of horror inside me. The kind that has a deep sense of terror and wrongness settle into my chest, that has all the blood rush into my legs and that suddenly makes me realize why we get the sense of uncanny valley when looking at something that's not quite human. Maybe throw in a bit of body horror too.
Just imagining something coming closer to me with unnatural jerky movements, twice my size with a power I couldn't possibly escape from, an unnaturally stretched razor-sharp grin and a look in it's eyes so adoring it's descended into madness long ago... C'mon, that's hot as hell!
D1 Niki glazer here and I laughed on public transport reading your take on Niki. It's not how I envision them at all but I can totally see it. I agree that they are insecure about their identity and I personally always viewed them as autistic!
That's all, love your blog btw!
Oml, I completely forgot this in my inbox, I'm so sorry!!
My first thought with them was inattentive ADHD but it's interesting how so many headcanon them as autistic. I'm starting to think it might be a cultural thing because where I live, the people most likely to get diagnosed as autistic are louder people who seemingly ignore social rules. Quiet autistic people are more likely to fall under the radar and I've heard that, in the US for example, it's more of the opposite.
My biggest fanfiction pet peeve is having to tag stuff with stockholm syndrome even though it's a made-up thing that was used to discredit a woman criticizing police and the closest real life equivalent is a trauma bond. But people have either never heard of that or think it's something else.
My little (crack) theory is that the MC is being continuously drugged by Pierrot with small doses of the Doctor's serum outside of the circus as well, to make them more accepting of the whole situation, his behaviour and to keep them from waking up when he's visiting at night.
We know he's all but harmless and even willing to knock them out if they try to get away from him (he prepared to do so in advance just in case of a rejection). It would also explain the MC oversleeping at the start of day 2 and the strange taste. If he drugs them in those situations, why wouldn't he do so in general?
It's the only way I can explain the MC's strange reaction to him breaking in and literally holding them down while saying some unhinged stalker shit. It reminded me of the way they acted after eating the cake on day 1— where they misinterpreted their fear as attraction to Pierrot due to the drug.
And we know the drug serum causes people to be calm and much more accepting of what's going on in the circus.
Warnings: 18+ NSFW, kinda dark, bdsm stuff, Jester typical things— what else do you expect?
He's a vengeful thing. Though what the Jester seems to feel is surely too proud to call hatred. Loathing, would fit it better, if you could even come close to describing it. Glowing eyes shine with it while looking at each and every one of your kind. But when they're on you, they smolder through your skin and your muscle right into your very heart.
You can feel them, especially in this very moment, as another strike comes down on your backside. Now quivering and bruised. He pulls the flog back. You try to estimate the next by sound alone; there's no rhythm to them. Unexpected. On purpose.
You fail, and cry out again. Your backside burns. Your neck, where you're being held down, burns. Your hole burns.
The thing Jester is punishing you for is so miniscule you can't even remember it now. It's pretext anyway. Really, he's punishing you for being human. It wouldn't matter if you swore your eternal devotion and meant every single word or if you hated every fiber of his being. You know it wouldn't really change anything. He simply likes seeing you in pain.
So you only whimper when his clawed hand gropes the reddend meat of your behind and he leans over further, all while still fucking you. The claw on your neck painfully pulls you up and you feel his breath against your ear.
With each pound, he whispers to you. It's quiet, raspy— very unlike Jester. It sounds like portuguese but the more you listen, the more the words seem all... wrong. Like a strong dialect or rather, an entirely different language. One that's closely related but just not the same.
A growl has your hairs rise up in goosebumps. Jester never growls and it pulls you out of your thoughts.
But you're just human. You don't dare ask. What else can you do but lie there and take it?
Jester hates every single one of you. Disgusting, dumb and violently selfish creatures.
The hatred is the thing that has always remained as the biggest reminder of what you did to him and his family. It's still simmering after all this time, but not in a vigorous boil. He's over that, it's beneath him now. At least that's what he'd thought. Before you came and turned up the heat again. He loathes you the most.
He'd make you apologize for it a thousand times, even when he knows it's far beyond your control. He'd make you beg for him, plead on your knees, thank him for the generosity of keeping you even while being such a pathetic creature.
But he'd never really let you know why. How you make him feel, how much he adores you. Yes, he hates you most of all, human. Especially for being the antithesis of everything he hates about your kind.
Those are words that he'd only tell you in a tongue he hasn't spoken for centuries. One he can asure you'll never understand.
Ticket Taker, desperately trying to gather intel for the Jester, still trying his best to breathe while sneezing every five seconds with his eyes tearing up
Me, covered head to toe in impulse vanilla kisses body spray as a defense mechanism
The weirdest people on the internet will be like: "omg I love people with disabilities!!!! As long as they aren't like, ~disabled~ around me or do things that a nerotypical adult doesn't do, or have weird interests (that's weird and I gotta make fun of them because honestly loser behavouir, hehe) and if you live with your parents your a deadbeat and don't deserve to live- and if you can't get a job you don't deserve to live, and if you're strange or don't look cis white stright able bodied you don't deserve to live"
And you'll be like "hey girl, I littraly just mentioned my mildest disability to you and you said this- I don't think we should talk anymore"
Not “Only my reading of canon is correct” or “Interpretations are subjective and all valid” but a secret third thing, “More than one interpretation can be valid but there’s a reason your English teacher had you cite quotes and examples in your papers, you have to have a strong argument that your interpretation is actually supported by the text or it is just wrong and I’m fine with telling you it’s wrong, actually.”
If the text says the curtains are blue you can argue about what that means; but if you’re going to claim they’re actually yellow you’d better have a really good argument.
The more content I see of authors saying they dislike writing sex scenes, that it's not as exciting as readers think, that it's actually kinda boring, posting reels and tiktoks of them looking spaced out while writing smut— the less suprised I am by the fact that I've never read good smut in published works.
I was more so talking about how being self-indulgent about smut seems to be frowned upon by many authors who professionally publish their writing. Like even the idea, that people write smut because they think what they're writing about is hot, is super absurd to them. It's just noticeable in a sex scene when the author has a stick up their ass like that.
I don't see the idea bleeding into fanfiction and amateur original fiction too often. And it always feels a little bizzare when it does lol— ig because fanfiction is kinda self-indulgent by nature.
That being said, not everyone can and wants to be actively horny while writing, that's okay and doesn't mean the writing is bad. 🫶
The more content I see of authors saying they dislike writing sex scenes, that it's not as exciting as readers think, that it's actually kinda boring, posting reels and tiktoks of them looking spaced out while writing smut— the less suprised I am by the fact that I've never read good smut in published works.
Btw, if you're an adult in the tfc fandom or really any kind of 18+ fandom, there's literally no reason for you not to mention in your bio that you're an adult.
If most adults did this, it'd be harder for minors in the fandom to get away with establishing themselves here as more people would be able to avoid minors, even if they didn't state they're underage in their bio.
Plus, If you make fan-content more people would interact that wouldn't if they didn't know you're an adult. Not to mention, there's people (like me) who block ageless accounts.
Couldn’t people easily just lie about their age? I don’t really see the point of people putting that in their bios when it doesn’t really prove much of anything.
Of course they could. Just like they could on porn site's "click to confirm that you're 18+" or when viewing flagged posts on tumblr.
So why do websites do this? Legal reasons. It delegates the responsibility to the user to avoid legal trouble. If they lie, that's on them/their parents.
Here, it also serves the fandom as a whole. If most adults confirmed they're adults, ageless accounts would be easier to block without wasting tons of time or fucking up engagement for creators. AND a space with mostly adult users isn't as appealing to minors.
Which is why many don't straight up lie about their age. They want to talk to other kids while still having the option to engage with adult creators content. Or risking engagement for their own posts. It's a domino effect of less kids = less kids and more kids = more kids joining. We want less of them.
So if you're an adult, have that in your bio. It takes 0 effort and no real personal info. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain.
there’s absolutely something to be said about ‘booktok’ books being largely wattpad quality written erotica i’m certainly not reading them however having seen a guy on tiktok make a video like ‘all the women in your life are READING PORN’ about a book he picked up and read in his FEMALE FRIEND’S HOUSE in a tone of scandalised horror and disgust i actually don’t think men should be making those criticisms. he said he picked it up expecting a romance and was horrified it was GOONER SHIT he said specifically like ‘who are you getting your pussy wet FOR??’ in a tone of revulsion. idk man im not sure shes the weird one. i kind of wish you were dead
"a lot of books that are successful on booktok are not very good" and "people can read what they want and we need to stop being so fucking weird about women enjoying erotica" are both correct statements
