Hello everyone, and welcome to my Tumblr page! Just a queen warrior here with her blog of stuff she likes and enjoys. I'm 25 Y/o in life and out here living my best life.
Divider Credit to @cursed-carmine, I only recolored it.
Summary: Harlequin's worst fear is you leaving him for another clown.
A/N: This has been requested by 'TinyFloofball', over on Archive! Thank you for requesting me!
8- Spooned Harlequin (Harlequin/Reader)
Working on his puppets, his energy was low, and his eyes unfocused as his thoughts lingered in his mind. Normally, he would brush them off and go on about his day. But his mind, no, his nightmares have been tormenting him for the day. His eye twitched as he remembered that dream. You… wouldn’t leave him. Right?
You won’t leave him for Pierrot, won’t you? Sure, he was a proud man when he won you over that red idiot. But there are days when he can’t tell if it was all a dream, that one day, you would have enough and leave him for Pierrot. Jealousy was clawing at him as he gripped the puppet of him.
Earlier, after having breakfast with you, just when he was about to surprise you. Maybe teasing you while you’re working, he can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy when he sees you talking to Pierrot. It shouldn’t annoy him, it shouldn’t when he won you over. When you picked him over that dog.
“Que chato,” he growled. Trying to focus on his work despite the persistent thoughts.
—--
Something was off about Harlequin; he could be flirty, loud, and bold. But rarely quiet around you. Normally, he would visit you while you’re working around 5 times until either Jester or Ticket Taker drags him. But he didn’t visit you, at first, it was a little bit of a relief. Giving you more time to work on paperwork and whatever had to be done. As the day progressed, it worried you when he didn’t show up to pester you. Waiting outside his tent, his final show wrapping up and guests leaving, did you walk in. “Harlequin?” you called out.
Silence. ‘Weird.’ You thought, walking towards the backstage area, which was also weirdly empty. You stifle a gasp when you feel his arms around your waist. “Harlequin, jeez, you scared me!”
He rested his chin on top of your head as he remained quiet. “Hey, are you ok?” you asked. Reaching up to touch his face.
“I’m fine,” he instantly answered. “You’re not fine if you’ve been avoiding me. What’s wrong?”
He said nothing, only holding you tighter against his chest. “... I need you,” he softly spoke. Hoping that you didn’t hear it, but you did. “After everything else has been done, come to my trailer, ok?”
Nodding his head, you pulled away from him and left his tent to finish closing the circus with Ticket taker. Not realizing that he was reaching out for you again. Thanking the guests for leaving, Ticket taker dismissed you early for you to go to your trailer. Waiting for you in bed was Harlequin, out of his circus costume and in his sleepwear.
You had an idea of why the sudden avoidance. Luckily for you, you know the perfect cure, especially for someone like Harlequin.
Walking to the bathroom, where you switched out your clothes for pj’s. Hiding your surprise when he didn’t flirt or say something dirty when changing in the bathroom. You opened the closet and pulled out a duvet blanket, wrapping the quiet green clown around tightly like a burrito. Gently pushing him back and wrapping your hands around his body, shimming your body to rest your head on his shoulder. “There. Is that better?”
“... Maybe,” he answered, thanking every higher being that you couldn’t see his face. “Now, do you want to try again? What's wrong?”
He went quiet for a second before speaking. “I had a bad nightmare last night. In my dream, you left me to be with Pierrot. At first, I just dismissed it. I had nothing to worry about because you chose me. Then I saw you with Pierrot and I… that’s why I avoided you. You… you wouldn’t leave me, would you?”
“Oh, Harly. You know I would never. I only talked to Pierrot because he was going into town for some minor shopping with Ticket taker and asked me if I needed anything. I promise, that was our conversation.”
So that’s what got him so hung up? Oh, Harlequin. You knew of his past and how long it took for him to eventually open up, patching up his broken heart with patience and reassurance as you hugged him. You still remember the first time when he asked for you to hug him after a show, how he melted under your touch as you rubbed his back. Massaging his scalp as he hid his face against the crook of your neck.
He didn’t sound convinced, so it’s time to use your secret weapon! Pressing a kiss near his earlobe, he jumped in surprise at the kiss. You can already picture his blushing face from your surprise kiss. “I chose you for a reason, Harly. I chose you because you can be sweet and considerate, even if you don’t show it. Sure, I thought you were an asshole at first. But I looked past that and I saw the real you, the you that wanted to be loved and cherished after so long.”
You giggled when you heard him grumble, “And I’ll say it as many times as I want. I love you.” Pressing a kiss behind his neck, you snuggle up to him as he starts to relax in your hold. “I love you.”
“... I love you too.”
Que Chato- How annoying.
End Author's Note: GET SPOONED AND LOVED HARLEQUIN! DO NOT RESIST!
MC: Since Vil was essentially taking over my dorm, I had to assert dominance in some manner.
MC: So the other day I bought a sack of potatoes from Sam, washed them, and just...ate them. Raw. Right in the longue, in front of everyone. Staring him directly in the eye.
MC: I've never seen a group of people so disgusted yet so intrigued.
"WHERE'S USAIDA?!?!" Screamed Taka, red-cheeked and enraged with his snot drippings waving with his screams; not wanting to wait for his caretaker's appearance.
"I'm not sure. He's usually here by now." Shizuka told her son while waiting in front of the daycare room.
Approaching the gaggle of mothers in front of the daycare, Usaida voiced his arrival "Sorry, I'm late!" He confessed with guilt and unease. He looked exhausted from both lack of sleep and the rush to arrive.
"It's alright, no harm done." Yukari assured gently to which he replied with a smile of gratitude.
Once inside the classroom, all of the children who impatiently waited for Usaida's arrival vulture in around his legs with red, puffed, and pouty cheeks ready to question and scold his actions. They were already tugging and jabbing at his legs. Their voices all overlapped each other's so no actual words were distinguishable.
Seeing the uproar he'd caused, Usaida let out a tired sigh before making his more direct apology. He bent down to their eye level and said with a slightly more gentle tone "I'm very sorry, it won't happen again. Let's go play now." He finished with a lazy smile.
"YAAAAY!!!" They all cheered
Usaida took Midori from her mother and went to his napping business after the mothers left.
~elsewhere~
"Ahh~, he left his house keys and phone here. How is he going to get into the house while I'm gone?" (Y/n) questioned herself with a small pout of worry. "We got a little 'held up' this morning, I hope he wasn't too late." She blushed and picked up the items and just looked at them while she thought of a solution. "Maybe I can leave work early and take them to him this afternoon? Would it be alright to just barge into his workplace like that?" She sighed with a small amount of stress but her attention was caught by her accidental glimpse of here watch. "I'll figure it out when the time comes. I have to open shop." She said to herself as she pranced out of the door.
You swiftly made your way to the front door of your flower shop and carefully unlocked it, flipping the "closed" sign to "open." As you opened the door fully, a burst of fresh flowers and other beautiful, earthy smells brushed over your body. It was a nice "good morning" from your beloved shop. You smiled at the pleasant, pretty smell. You stopped in thought for a moment remembering how Yoshihito compliments your perfume all of the time. You laughed at the thought because you never wear any. "I must just pick it up from the air here." You thought, walking to the front desk and getting everything ready for your customers.
~later~
"Hello, we'd like to buy a bouquet please." A strict foreign woman with an unflattering haircut, who you'd guessed to be British, declared with a haughty tone to her voice. She was accompanied by a short, round man who looked like he was totally overshadowed by his wife.
"What we're looking for is-" the man with a drab voice started but was interrupted by his taller, more dominant wife.
"-Peter, please! I'm talking!" She snapped, lightly scolding him and startling you.
"Sorry, Judith." The man droned a confession of guilt and fidgeted with his glasses, which matched his wife's.
"Well, I should hope so..." She retorted snobbishly, letting her eyes narrow and linger on her husband before continuing "What we're looking for is-"
"So sorry but I have to run. Here, (employee) will finish your order." You hastily apologized but you saw this as a good opportunity to leave for the afternoon to give Yoshihito his things and hopefully arrive at a time where you won't intrude too much.
As the employee taking your place understood that you were ditching, she bashed you on the head with a bundle of flowers. You only offered a smile as an apology and ran out the door with your belongings.
Standing outside of the front door, you looked in at the couple through the window and shivered "Dodged a bullet."
~~~
Arriving at the academy, you first went to the secretary to ask for information. "Hello?" You asked quietly to gain the woman's attention. She immediately looked over to you and smiled.
"Hello, what can I help you with?" She asked kindly.
"I was wondering if I could leave some things here for my husband. He works here but he left some of his belongings at home this morning." You admitted giving a light laugh at your embarrassing excuse for being here.
"Of course! Just tell me his name and I'll have someone let him know to pick them up." She chirped.
"Right, he's Usaida Yoshihito." You proudly gushed.
She halted and looked at you with brighter eyes and a big grin. "I didn't know Usaida had a wife! How about you go take him his things yourself, I'm sure he'd be happy to see you." She cheered and handed you a visitors pass. Why was she so interested in your husband's love-life?
"Are you sure?" You asked shyly.
"Of course! He takes such good care of my daughter! I'm happy to have met you! I'm Sawatori Yukari by the way." She chatted.
"Usaida (Y/n). It's nice to meet you and thanks again." You bid her goodbye and left after receiving directions to the daycare.
As you were walking down the hall you thought about the secretary's words and smiled to yourself with warmth. "He's takes good care of her child. I'm glad he's working hard."
Arriving at the daycare, you were about to knock but you stopped yourself letting a sneaky expression overtake your face. "I wonder what he's like with the other children." You thought giddily while peeking through the window in the door.
"Cuuuteee~" You whispered, fogging up the window. You silently fawned over your husband who was being bombarded with children. "They must like him if they want his attention so badly~." While this was happening you didn't see a quiet little brown haired child, who strayed from the rest, staring at you while opening the door.
"(Y-Y-Y/n)?!" Yoshihito yelled, surprised to see his wife in the open doorway. "What are you doing here?" He was slightly embarrassed being seen acting so goofy in front of his wife. At least she didn't catch him napping.
The young woman quietly stepped into the entryway of the room with a sweet smile but didn't proceed much farther into the space. As she looked towards her husband she spoke "Anata, you left your things at home when you rushed out." She shyly said to her husband being slightly intimidated by the unwavering attention of the occupants of the room. So many cute, tiny faces and they all had their eyes glued to you. "A-Aah! I just called him ‘anata’ in front of these kids! I'm so embarrassed!!" Her cheeks slightly flushed at her internal embarrassment.
"You're dumb, Usa!" Shouted Taka.
You giggled which got the kids shy as they moved to hide behind the adult they were familiar with and waited for an introduction. "Ah, thanks! I didn't even notice, thanks for bringing it." Yoshihito said gratefully. He blushed slightly from you having to go through so much trouble for him as he finally thought to introduce the kids to his wife. "Hey, kids! This is (Y/N)-chan, my wife! Come out and give an introduction!" His voice was somehow excited while still its usual sleepy, lazy tone.
"Alright, let's form the naming train for (Nickname)-chan." He instructed with a "thumbs up" towards (Y/n). The kids all rush out in front of the new party member into a line and started singing their names for her with Yoshihito leading them and holding that lazy grin of his.
After the song, you got down on a lower level to seem more approachable. "Wow~ That was so good! I'm happy to meet you all!" They all seemed excited at this a ran up to you and immediately started tugging at you and asking questions. Yoshihito sat back and watched, smiling at the site.
A cute little girl with black pigtails was the first to steal your attention. "You have flowers in your hair! Are you a fairy, (nickname) onee-chama?" Kirin gushed, patting her little fingers in your hair and knocking the tiny flowers loose, that must have been from the shop earlier. She suddenly stood up grasping at your hand and tugging you harshly over to her toys. "Let's play fairies!"
"A-Ah! I should probably get going. I'm sure Yoshihito needs to get back to work." You didn't want to intrude but Yoshihito insisted that you stay.
"No, stay and have fun~!" He teased.
The kids heard and cheered then repeatedly demanded, "Come play with us!"
Soon a loud boy named Taka snatched you away from Kirin while she wasn't looking and dragged you off to another side of the room while swinging his plastic sword. "Come over here! You'll be the princess!" He yelled putting you behind a small wall made of toys. "You stay here! I'll protect ya' 'cause I'm the good guy and I'm real' strong!" He continued to holler while taking a brave stance in front of you. He used his sword to point at Yoshihito. "USA!!! You be the monster! Try n' take her from me!"
Yoshihito pointed to himself with a confused look. "Huh?"
"CUMMON!!!"
Yoshihito chuckled and carefully placed Midori in a safe place before turning towards you and Taka. "Here I come, princess (Y/n)~" He said taking animated steps towards his cute bride who actually looked a little freaked out.
As he got closer to (Y/n), Taka sprang into action. "Stop! Monsters don't get princesses!!!" Taka proclaimed but Yoshihito just stepped over both him and the toy wall. "HEY! YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO WIN!" Taka protested and started punching Yoshihito's legs while he picked (Y/n) up an threw her over his shoulder.
As Yoshihito walked off with (Y/n) the kids all gathered around his legs and started to weakly beat him up. "Ya' can't have her!"
"I want her too!" Takuma cheered.
"M-Me too." Kazuma muttered after his brother.
"She was playing with me first!" Kirin fought.
"Huh!" Kotaro grunted.
They all started yelling, getting greedy for the woman's attention. Yoshihito was starting to panic slightly. "O-Oi! Calm down. Don't crowd! Someone might get hurt." He was mostly worried that he'd trip and hurt them. He was suddenly saved by the door opening and drawing the kids to Ryuuichi immediately.
"Ryuuuuu!!"
"Thank goodness." He breathed out and set (Y/n) down. "Are you okay?" He asked.
"Mm-hmm~!" She replied with blossoming cheeks from being held.
The rest of Yoshihito's hours at work were spent juggling between taking care of Midori, trying to get his own wife's attention, and waiting to go home with her. Though the day just seemed to drag on until, finally, it was time to leave. "You'll be okay, Ryuuichi?"
"Yes! Don't worry!"
With that Yoshihito handed over Midori and grunted with laziness as he stood up. "(Y/n)-chan~Let's go home~" He said as he took her hand.
She looked to him with exhaustion. "Sounds good!"
As they were crossing through the doorway he leaned to kiss his wife but was interrupted. "Your wife is too pretty for you, Usa!!" Kirin hollered to Usaida.
He rolled his eyes and shut the door behind him and muttered "I know." He turned to (Y/n), who had started walking ahead of him, and yelled, "princess (Y/n), wanna have kids yet~?!"
🎪Fandom: The freak circus.
🌹Pairing: Pierrot x female Reader.
🤹🏻 Rating: explicit.
🍿 Summary: on your way to work, you find a jester, hurt and alone. Your kindness sparks an immediate obsession, and he becomes bound to you in ways he cannot… control.
🔞 Warnings: yandere/obsessive love, stalking behavior (Harlequin, but nothing special, just a dick), emotional dependency, social humiliation/public cruelty, injury (minor bleeding), trauma/past loss, manipulation/psychological pressure from Jester (he's a dick too, sorry), implied violence, unsettling affection, suggestive undertones.
On your way to work at the bar, with the sun already high in the sky, you saw him.
He was crouched on the street, a sad expression on his white face, and he was also bleeding from his temple. His gloved hands were gathering scattered circus flyers from the ground, one by one, as if each piece mattered, as if they were part of him, as if losing them meant something worse, for him. It was so obvious that he put all his effort into obeying orders, and it hurt when he wasn’t understood.
A whine escaped his throat.
Your chest tightened at the scene.
For a clown, he wasn’t funny at all. In fact, it broke your heart to witness such cruelty. To see other people—humans—laughing at him, sneering, looking at him with disdain.
What had he done wrong? He was only doing his job. Had those people ever looked at themselves in the mirror? Could they see how cruel they were? Merciless, heartless? Could they see the monster in their own hearts? In their empty faces? The anger living beneath their skin?
Had those people ever looked at themselves in the mirror? Could they see how cruel they were—merciless, heartless? Could they see the monster in their own hearts, the anger living beneath their skin?
You slowed down your steps, then stopped in front of him. He didn’t look up.
Another person to scream at me, he thought.
His bells gave a jingle as he shifted, reaching for another flyer.
You stepped closer, then lowered yourself slowly and carefully, kneeling on the dirty street. You raised your hand, hesitating just inches away from him, afraid to startle him, afraid to do the wrong move. The clown still wasn’t looking at you, lost in the depths of his thoughts at such brutality.
“Hey… are you okay?” you asked softly; your gentle, graceful voice pulling him out of the labyrinth of his darkest… murderous thoughts.
No answer. He couldn’t answer. It was part of his mask. His punishment for a wrong committed by others, by those like you… your kind.
But then, slowly, he lifted his head.
His eyes met yours.
They widened instantly, yellow irises expanding into perfect circles, big and bright like an animal caught by car headlights.
He stared, unmoving. You couldn’t tell whether he looked amazed or terrified to death. His hands remained still over the papers on the ground, as if he had frozen in place.
So, you lowered your arm and picked up the flyers a short distance from him, so as not to pressure him any further. He was still staring at you, but his… mask turned red, as if he were blushing.
His eyes softened. His hypnotic, circular irises melted into small golden hearts. Small at first, then brighter, fuller, glowing with something you couldn’t quite name when you reached out to him again to hand him the flyers.
It was obsession.
Immediate and irreversible. And of the worst kind.
He had fallen for you.
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You didn’t ask him what happened. You simply smiled in a sweet and reassuring way and helped him up.
“You’re bleeding. Can I… Do you trust me?” He looked at you, confused, unsure where you were going with this. But if it meant he could stay with you a little longer… Devil, yes.
Yes, yes, yes! I trust you, my mysterious, gentle lady!
But he couldn’t speak; not when the other jesters could see him out here, in public. With you. Alone. With him… So he simply nodded.
“Good boy. Come with me,” you said taking his hand.
Your hand… ah, your grip was firm, but not forceful.
Smooth. Warm. Certain. Reassuring and comforting.
He would have followed you everywhere. Even though you would never look at him the way he looked at you. Even though you would never grant him your love, your heart. But he didn’t care. Being near you was enough. Seeing you smile. Smelling your scent up close.
And for… hungrier needs, his hand and the thought of you, your name echoing in his mind, on his lips, would be enough.
He would make it enough. For you. To not lose you.
The bell above the bar door ringed as you stepped inside and the warm scent of coffee and croissants welcomed you both.
You guided him to a seat near the window, but not exposed to the public, since you had to take care of him. You wanted to.
You asked him to sit down. “I’ll be right back.”
He sat stiffly, hands folded in his lap, eyes looking around the unfamiliar space. You were no longer in his sight, vanished behind the kitchen door. Would you really come back to him? Would you remember him? Why had you even invited him in? He watched the other customers with slit-like eyes— they looked at him curious, dreadly—or the passersby behind him in the street, behind the glass window barrier.
“Hey, clown! Aren’t you a little too old for this? Pathetic!” a boy sneered, giggling like an idiot. The glass was thin, and everyone inside could hear what the boy had said. But the masked man did nothing: he remained seated, casting a sly glance at him from the corner of his eye, and returned his gaze to the table in front of him, waiting for you.
Calm down. Calm down. You’re safe here.
Not here, not now. Stay calm.
Until his eyes… found you again behind the counter. And stayed on you, all the time. Up till you returned to him with a cup of hot chocolate, steam curling softly in the environment and a slice of chocolate and strawberry cake placed on a colorful plate, with a little smile and a small heart you had drawn beside it using chocolate cream.
“For you,” you said smiling.
He stared at it. Then at you. And then he smiled at you, blushing. He wasn’t used to receiving positive attention from anyone, not even humans. But that gesture… it was all for him, and it was everything for him.
You moved closer to the little couch where he was sitting, silently asking if you could sit. You didn’t want to make him nervous, and the fact that he didn’t speak made it hard to know what would please him or irritate him.
He nodded, and you sat down right next to him, though your bodies weren’t very close—yet.
You watched him fidget with the cake, as if he didn’t want to eat something you had made only for him. Then your gaze fell on the cut on his temple: a shallow slice, not so deep, still bleeding.
“Did someone throw stones at you?” you asked, a note of sadness in your voice.
Were you worried for him? Did you feel pity? A man so tall, capable of defending himself... how could you feel empathy for a… beast?
If only you had known his true intentions, what he might do to those who had wronged him…
If only you had known the monster he really was.
If only you had known.
If only…
“Let me see.”
The jester could do nothing but turn to you and gaze again, savoring your warmth, the fact that you—yes, you—were dedicating your time and attention to him, even worrying about him.
So… was this already a beginning? Could you really love him, even just as a friend? In your own way? Caring for him, tending to him? Could you? Or were you simply being polite? Kind?
“Can I… touch you? I don’t want to hurt you, I promise. I just need to dress the wound. Can I…?” there was hesitation in your voice.
He shook his head quickly in approval.
Yes, yes, yes! Touch me! Touch me, please! Do whatever you want with me, even hurt me, and I wouldn’t care! I’m yours! Completely yours!
But even this time… he had to restrain himself for not whispering those words in your ear, along your neck and collarbone, or as his lips brushed past your ankle, along your calf and thigh… until the words reached your most intimate place.
He quickly turned his head, averting his gaze from you.
You could see a drop of saliva at the corner of his mouth, his cheeks burning. Hurriedly, he shifted his legs under the table, trying to hide the bulge between his legs.
Pathetic. You’re pathetic! What will she think of you now…? Come back to yourself! Don’t scare her, don’t let her see the monster you are.
He gestured that you could proceed. You extended your arm, holding a cotton ball to dab and clean the blood. Then you applied some disinfectant, warning him it would sting; but he didn’t move, didn’t complain.
The sting? Nothing compared to the burning in his heart, scorching through the tissues of his own flesh.
You continued to clean and tend to him, and when you finished, you placed a tiny bandage with little hearts over the wound.
“There… all clean and cute as before,” you smiled.
Cute? You just said “cute”? Really? Was he dreaming?
Your hand stayed on his face, gently arranging his long hair so it wouldn’t peel off the bandage, and he felt as if you were caressing him. When you began to pull your hand away… his fingers caught yours. Fast but softly. So carefully it almost hurt him, because he wanted you, he wanted your touch, again, and again, and again...
He lifted your hand, pressing your palm against his cheek, tilting his head into it like a small kitten, like he’d been starved for you his entire life and he had finally found you after thousands and thousand of years of suffering and abuses.
His eyelids closed. And there it was… that sound again. Not a sigh but... something softer.
You could have sworn he was… purring.
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Outside, among the passersby and the crowd, Harlequin —another circus jester, the green one— had been looking at his colleague the whole time. He had followed him, intending to drag him back, to scold him, to remind him of rules that were never meant to be broken.
Instead, he had witnessed something very different.
You.
Touching him.
You.
Human. Gentle.
Wrong.
It was all so wrong.
His colleague wasn’t supposed to develop any feelings—or obsession—toward you, otherwise you would be in danger.
In danger, yes, but not from your wounded little lamb. In danger from THEM, the others.
His expression darkened and he turned on his heel, walking towards the circus.
Jester would hear about this.
After some time, your new friend reopened his dark eyelids. He blushed again and tapped his lips twice with his finger, then your cheek—twice, again—as if asking “may I give you a little kiss?”
You smiled at his funny, sweet way of asking, your own cheeks flushing slightly, and nodded just as he had nodded at you: without a word.
The tall clown smiled, understanding, and approached you gently, pressing his cold mask against your warm skin, giving you a kiss. Then he stood, heading toward the exit, turning back one last time to wave at you.
When he left, you cleared his table: everything had remained untouched, but he had left a note on a circus napkin: “Thank you. Yours, Pierrot <3.”
“Pierrot...” you repeated it softly, clutching the little note to your chest.
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The tall man returned to the circus, to his tent and his “family,” only to find Jester—the purple one—waiting for him inside.
“Ticket Taker must not find out,” Jester said calmly. “Do I need to remind you of your rules?” Pierrot stood still, silent.
“Not speaking is your only rule, Pierrot,” Jester continued. “Not engaging. Not forming attachments. Especially not with… her.”
Pierrot’s hands curled into fists. He couldn’t hold back and replied immediately, raising his voice slightly. “She’s… different. And I… I didn’t speak, even though I wanted to.”
Jester’s eyes narrowed.
“She’s not different,” he simply said. “She is human, like them… those who mock us and on whom we feed.”
“She was kind to me! The only one who helped me!”
It was too late.
“Pierrot,” Jester said, lowering his voice, “you are not meant to speak or interact with humans. That is your role.”
“I don’t care,” Pierrot snapped. “You don’t get to talk about her like that! You don’t have to choose for me!”
Jester tilted his head, remembering what had happened long ago… recalling Pierrot’s despair and how the death of the person dearest to him had shattered him, turning him into a machine of impulsivity and murder.
“How can you defend her… when you don’t even know her?” he asked, curious. “When she learns what you are—what you’ve done—do you truly believe she will stay? With you?”
Pierrot’s eyes flickered.
The trauma.
The fear.
The abandonment.
The death.
Everything spun and spun in his mind.
The memories burned in his throat, and he couldn’t breathe.
Why was he being blamed for what had happened long ago?
To keep Pierrot in line and in place, the only way was to make him live in fear and torment. Only then you were safe, he was safe. You all were safe.
“No!” Pierrot stepped forward. He was agitated and angry.
“No, she won’t! She won’t—she won’t—” his voice cracked.
Silence swallowed the tent. Jester watched him, then sighed. He realized the damage was done, and that Pierrot was now bound to you, insignificant creature. What Pierrot didn’t know was that Harlequin had seen you both, and longed for the same gentle touch you had given him.
“I hope you’re right,” he said in a gentle yet mocking tone. “Because this time… I won’t clean up your mess when you… kill her. Nor do I want to settle the feuds between you and Harlequin.”
Pierrot froze again, the words sank deep, tearing his heart apart.
“Be very careful,” Jester added, turning away, “with this… obsession of yours.” He stopped before leaving. “It never ends well.”
And you, poor, innocent creature… you had no idea you had just become the center of a tragedy. But you were the only one not wearing a mask.
Author’s Note: thank you for taking the time to read this story! ♡
Banners featured in this work are created by me. Please do not take, repost, edit, or use them without my permission.
🎪Fandom: The freak circus.
🌹Pairing: Pierrot x female Reader.
🤹🏻 Rating: mature.
🍿 Summary: you’re having your very first adult moment… and Pierrot fully panics because he thinks “I’m cumming” means... something else, accidentally ruining your orgasm.
🔞 Warnings: suggestive (non very explicit), orgasm denial (accidental), first-time, inexperienced Pierry.
“No—wait—oh my God, PIERROT! I’m—I’m cumming!”
Pierrot’s painted white face, crinkled in pure, unadulterated confusion. His wide yellow pupils, circled in black big pools, blinked twice.
His head tilted, sending a few silvery-white curls tumbling over his forehead.
“Where?” he asked, his voice soft, melodic, laced with genuine alarm and concern.
“Where are you going? Are you leaving me? Did I do something wrong?!” He asked without giving you the space to answer, swallowing his words, desperate and pathetic. His long, tapered fingers, which until now had been digging deep into your pussy, pressing and arching against your g-spot, stimulating it to orgasm, slipped out quickly, interrupting your decline. His body abruptly moved away from yours, retreating to his knees between your legs. Then, he lay down on top of you, pressing his chest to yours, wrapping his huge hands around your cheeks, flushed and hot from what Pierrot was doing to you. His gaze became sad and pleading.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, my Lady!”
The world, which had just been a tight, white-hot coil of sensation centered between your thighs, went utterly, completely still. Your back was arched off the cot’s mattress of his tent, your fingers were tangled in the fabric of his loose red blouse, opened on his toned, pale, muscular chest. A vision for your eyes. Damn, he was so hot… Your whole body was clenched, frozen on the precipice of a release that had just slammed into a void of nothing. All your nerves were on fire, your mind screaming for mercy. A strangled sound, half-groan, half-hysterical laugh, gurgled in your throat.
“I’m not… going… anywhere,” you managed to gasp out, your voice raw and in pain.
“But you said you were coming,” he insisted, his brow furrowed so deeply that you thought he might crack his mask. You tilted your head, looking away from his childish, hurt expression, trying to regain control of your body which was spasming uncontrollably, demanding attention. Then, you looked at him again, your expression frowning.
“So much patience…” you sighed softly, just for yourself, but maybe Pierrot had heard you anyway. You moved your head against the flushy pillow, starring at the curved white and red plastic ceiling of the circus tent, strung with sad little paper stars and faded silk roses.
Of course.
Of course this is how it happens.
You’d spent the last weeks with him looking at you out of the huge windows of the bar where you worked; and you sneaking glances at him during his juggling act, taking his flyers just to stand near him, and finally, finally, working up the nerve to talk to him when he came to visit you in the evening at the bar, even though he didn’t speak at first. And now, in the most intensely vulnerable moment of your first sex, adult life, with Pierrot... Pierrot—beautiful, ridiculous Pierrot—thought you were announcing your imminent departure.
“Pierrot,” you said, the word slow and careful, but also a little pissed off, a hand resting now on your forehead tangling in your hair.
“When I say ‘I’m cumming,’ I don’t mean I’m leaving. I mean…” you gestured weakly between your bodies. “It’s… a thing that happens when... when it feels… really good.” He froze, his hand moving from your face down your stomach, caressing, tickling.
“When… someone reaches… the pinnacle of pleasure. You know, the thing. That, kind. The... orgasm…” you explained shyly, your eyes shining with embarrassment.
You wanted to die and bury yourself in the ground right then and there.
His expression oscillated through confusion, dawning comprehension, and then a blush so fierce it painted his cheeks a hot pink on the white mask.
“Oh,” he whispered.
“Oh,” he repeated.
“That… kind...”
“Yeah,” you breathed, the tension slowly seeping out of you, replaced by a warm, shaky, fresh desire. “That kind.”
He looked down at his hand positioned on your lower abdomen, almost on your pelvic area, then back at your face. His eyes were big as a puppy’s.
“Did it… not happen? Because I stopped?”
You started to laugh, you couldn’t help it. It bubbled up from your heart; a helpless, wheezing sound that shook your whole body.
“Yeah,” you confirmed, tears pricking your eyes. “And… you stopped right at the best part.”
He looked genuinely devastated.
“I am a fool,” he murmured, his shoulders slumping.
“A clown. I ruined it,” he said, his voice small. He made to pull away entirely, but you caught his wrist.
“You didn’t ruin it, and, well... technically, you’re a clown. Literally!”
You said, laughing a little, though your body was still throbbing with unspent, frustrated energy. He was silent for a long moment, just looking at you. The only sounds were the distant screams of people wandering around the circus (maybe while they were being killed, lol). Then, a tiny, hesitant smile touched his painted lips.
“Could we… perhaps… try to find it again? This ‘cooming’? I would very much love to see you writhing with the pleasure I give you, hearing your delicious moans as I'm inside you, seeing your eyes filled with water and love as I fuck your soul. Do you want it? Do you want me?”
You looked at him with shining eyes. Your body already vibrating at his words.
Do you want it?
Do you want him… ?
Author’s Note: thank you for taking the time to read this short, silly scenario! ♡
All banners featured in this work are created by me.
Please do not take, repost, edit, or use them without my permission.
warnings: self-insert, gender neutral, implied established relationship, no smut (suggestive), dark romance, psychological tension, soft dom energy, strong sexual tension, biting (consensual), obsession themes, mild manipulation, emotional vulnerability, references to violence (from classic literature).
resume: “jester rests in his dressing room with a classic in hand, immersed in notes and quiet intensity. when you approach, the reading turns into something more intimate: an exchange of thoughts, tension, and sensations that spill far beyond the pages.”
The dressing room still smelled of makeup, old canvas, and rice powder. The only light bathing the dim space came from the bulbs around the mirror, gilding the room with a glow far too intimate for someone like him.
Jester was slouched in the armchair, one leg crossed over the other, the book open in his lap with theatrical indifference. You wondered what book he had chosen this time. He read about politics, philosophy, cultures from the most remote corners of this stretching world, historical accounts; then he wandered into strategy, horror, dark fantasy, and classical literature — and in this last domain, he seemed more immersed than ever these past few days, as if in a silent fervor.
The book’s cover was dark, worn at the edges, its spine slightly battered. An old French classic, as he liked to remind you, one most humans wouldn’t have the stomach nor the intellect to grasp. A tale about monstrosity, perversion, ostracism, symbolic and literal violence, twisted emotional bonds, and misery. The most beautiful portrayal of the price paid in the bargain for unattainable love, for desiring what should be undesirable, and for the madness that alone could saturate the mind and heart of human beings.
You entered quietly, noticing Jester’s back turned to you, his posture straight and regal as always, flipping through the pages slowly in an almost haunting silence. At first, he didn’t acknowledge your presence — or perhaps he only pretended not to, refusing to offer you even a single glance. He turned a page. Then another. In an effort that seemed almost intentional.
You approached without saying anything, lightly touching his arm. You wanted to see the title.
He pulled his arm away without aggression, yet with that irritating elegance of his.
“Tsk.”
A small sound, but one that stung.
“If you want attention, ask for it.”
His voice slid out like sweet venom, still not looking away from the book.
You crossed your arms, watching him turn the next page. But you hadn’t given up, discreetly peeking over his shoulder, studying the tangle of words, tiny letters surrounded by footnotes, complex Latin terms, and explanations about specific events and historical figures from the fifteenth century.
Right. So he was reading a book about the final moments of the Middle Ages, judging by the hurried notations on the dense cultural and political transformations that paved the way to the Renaissance. At the top of the page, a scribbled French phrase, underlined:
“CECI TUERA CELA.”
You didn’t understand what it meant; it reached your eyes as something hollow, empty. But to Jester, immersed in Parisian plots and landscapes, that phrase meant everything. A sad, frightened lament of a contemporary watching the ruin of all structures, all values that once sustained life. A transitional movement from darkness to light, from ignorance to knowledge, via schoolbooks, pamphlets scattered through the streets, travelers venturing into unknown routes across the globe, poems on paper: ideas that came to destroy everything. After all, it was known: the book would topple the cathedral. Paper would finally destroy stone.
Feeling your breath close to his neck, Jester raised one eyebrow, turning slowly toward you. His eyes shone like two purple sapphires staring into your face, heavy-lidded, lips almost smiling.
“You don’t know what it means, do you?” he asked, a slow line of laughter curling at his mouth as he tilted his head. “But you read it anyway. Curious, as always.”
Before you could retort, he continued, his tone proud and intrigued:
“It’s about an archdeacon. A man of faith,” he began, returning his gaze to the book. “A man who hates what he desires. And a poor monstrous bell-ringer, who loves what he can never touch, and desires what despises him.”
The lamp crackled. Your chest tightened as you moved to sit beside the armchair.
“Here.”
He beckoned you with an impatient gesture. Two dry, quick taps on the armrest.
You stood and sat on the arm of the chair, close enough to smell his characteristic scent that dominated your senses by now: smoke, ink, something citrusy and nearly indescribable. Jester turned the page carefully, as if savoring each fraction of a second in which your attention fell on him.
“This part here is quite interesting. It’s the scene where the little gypsy follows the captain of the guard to a brothel. A young, naive girl, wandering alone through those grey-skied streets.”
He gave you a sideways smile, one of his legs brushing against yours suggestively, dangling beyond the edge of the seat.
“Human foolishness. She actually thought she had some kind of effect on him.”
You nodded lightly. Jester seemed so inspired, so intent on understanding the themes of the stories he consumed, wanting to absorb all central and secondary aspects of the narratives he read. He seemed to delight in outlining the profiles of the characters, making critical remarks, jotting down brief reflections, sharpening his sensitivity to the most common human behavioral patterns expressed in words. Always the smartest, always meticulous.
There was something disturbingly beautiful about him when he did that. The way his eyes narrowed with calculation, how his fingers traced the page edges with reverent care, how his lips curved in quiet satisfaction whenever he caught some detail or metaphor that others would never notice. His focus had a brilliance of its own, like a sharp, predatory stillness that glimmered like light on polished metal.
A habit, yes — but in his body, his posture, his gaze, it felt like a ritual. A temptation in itself.
You leaned slightly, your head brushing his shoulder in a soft, fleeting touch.
“And what happened to the little gypsy?”
He marked a line on the page with a slow finger.
“The girl followed the captain, infatuated. She believed he returned her feelings. Poor thing. His motives were swollen with everything: lust, malice, but never love. Humans have a funny tendency to see love where there is none.”
Jester turned another page, his fingers gliding as if they knew every fiber of the paper. Beside him, you were slightly restless, your hands searching for somewhere to rest other than your own lap. You buried your face a little deeper in the curve of his neck, absorbing the splendid citrus scent, so maddeningly his. Your fingers settled on his shoulders in a subtle, ghostlike gesture, and you offered a timid smile. A try, a soft hint at closeness. A testimony of how all of that display, his quiet intelligence, his mastery, affected you in ways that shouldn’t be physical, but undeniably were.
Jester made a brief grimace; one of his hands fell onto your thigh in response. The other remained firm on the open book.
“She followed him across the whole city. They exchanged ardent vows of love, though his were more… perjuries, really. She almost gave herself to him, but the priest, who had been following and spying on them like a deranged boogeyman, drew a knife from his robes and stabbed the captain, gravely wounding him. The girl took the blame.”
“She took the blame?” you asked, outraged.
“She took the blame,” Jester repeated, an uneven smile tugging at his lips, almost amused, almost pitying. “Imagine… a crime she didn’t commit, for a love that never existed, for a man who didn’t love her, and for another who desired her in the most sickening way.”
The word fell between you like a warm weight.
You swallowed hard as his hand tightened slightly on your thigh. Nothing obscene, just enough to anchor you without a single syllable.
He turned the page slowly, his nail dragging along the edge with almost perverse tenderness. His careful, obsessive attention to detail always made him even more beautiful. Long lashes casting purple shadows on his cheeks, the focused mouth, the scent of ink and citrus intensifying when he read too deeply. Jester was a vision indeed. A painting tainted with cunning and control, resting gently beside a good book and his good little human partner.
“Do you know what’s most fascinating?” Jester continued. “The archdeacon cannot stand the girl. He hates her. Hates her fragility, her laughter, the way she breathes or dances, spinning under the hot sun. But…” His voice dropped a half-tone, almost scraping the air. “He becomes sick at the mere thought of someone else touching her.”
A shiver ran down your spine, slow and inevitable.
“Why do you think that is?"
He asked it with feigned innocence, but the smile hiding in the shadows of the dressing room revealed his true intent. He wanted to see how you would squirm through the answer. To watch you think, justify contradictions, build explanations. Amusing to him.
You inhaled deeply, trying to ignore how his face seemed now a fraction closer, how he seemed to savor your little microexpressions, your tension, your nerves. The way he looked at you stripped more than any hand could.
“Maybe… because some people confuse desire with entitlement. With ownership. Maybe the archdeacon believed he deserved her, for some reason known only to him.”
He hummed in agreement.
“Interesting. Do you really think that? Is desire a tyrant… or merely a plea dressed as a beast?”
The question fell like a thin blade between the two of you.
You didn’t answer immediately. Your fingers slipped from his shoulder to the collar of his circus attire, adjusting the fabric in a gesture so small it could’ve meant nothing, yet it meant everything. He noticed. He always noticed.
Jester turned another page with cruel slowness, his breath nearly brushing yours.
“The archdeacon thought his desire was a plea turned feral. He claimed to hate the girl, for she was a pagan, young, vulgar. But look…” He tilted the book toward you, pointing at a specific passage. “Here. This is where he visits her in prison. She’s chained, dirty, cold, and he begs…”
The words hit your eyes immediately, sharp as blades. Pathetic, raw, visceral — something only a mind poisoned by its own demons could conceive and speak. A degrading plea, born from bestialized love, from repressed, unfulfilled desire.
Caresse-moi d'une main, torture-moi de l'autre.
Caress me with one hand, torture me with your other one.
Jester leaned a little closer, and time seemed to stand still, as if the air between you both had grown too heavy to ignore.
“Curious, isn’t it? Who in their right mind would ask for such a thing? Two impulses so contradictory?” His voice dropped, ambiguous and dangerously vulnerable. “Would you ask for something like that, pet?”
The question slid under your skin like a slow-burning coal, warm enough to roll down your spine. You blinked, the world around you fading softly, leaving only his voice.
“Me?” you murmured. Your own voice sounded strange, too low. “It depends… on what exactly you’re asking.”
Jester laughed. Not the theatrical laugh, but a muffled, intimate one. A laugh that seemed to escape him by accident.
He brought the back of his hand to your jaw, lightly, checking if you were still there, warm and breathing.
“I’m asking…” His thumb traced your chin with no rush. “Whether you would let someone want you in ways so different it hurts.”
The half-light was so persistent he might not have noticed how your legs crossed subtly, involuntarily, still perched on the arm of his chair. His gaze dropped to your mouth, then climbed back up, lazy, deliberate, and more intimate than touch.
“If you would accept dominance and affection from the same hand. Desire and fear whispered in the same breath.”
That crooked, small, almost sad smile appeared.
“Would you call someone who doesn’t know whether he wants to protect you… or devour you, love?”
He murmured it in a teasing, coaxing whisper before burying his face against your neck, his sharp teeth grazing your heated skin. You could feel the impending bite, the anticipation crawling through you.
When he finally bit, it sank hot and deep, stealing a torn breath from your throat — half pleasure, half surrender. Jester let out a quiet groan at your reaction, muffled against your skin, tasting each tremor.
His hand tightened at your nape, fingers weaving into your hair, guiding, tilting, handling you, and you yielded without noticing, your body molding to his as if it had been crafted for this.
“Always so obedient…” he breathed against your skin, his mouth tracing the heated trail his teeth left behind. “So ready.”
His lips climbed your throat slowly. Too slowly. He alternated soft bites and warm kisses, his tongue drawing small, torturous circles that made your breaths stutter silently. Every touch was studied, calculated. He read you the same way he read his books, with devotion and wickedness.
You melted under him, your fingers threading through his long, soft hair, messy now as he pressed closer. When you found a specific lock, you tugged it, boldly, just to say: I want more.
Jester chuckled against your skin, a warm, contained sound of satisfaction at your lack of restraint.
You were far from done. Damn him for his refined words, his cultivated taste, his superiority, his brilliant mind, his amethyst eyes that could ignite, freeze, pierce, and hypnotize your soul, heart, and body in ways that made you feel sick just thinking about it.
He had no idea how difficult it was for you to control yourself around him. How complicated it was to contain the impulsive, deranged thoughts that placed him in countless scenarios, countless positions, countless tender and torturous embraces. Damn Jester for making you wait breathlessly while he read his dusty classics.
You turned slightly and dragged your lips along his jaw in a slow, investigative kiss.
He allowed it for one second. Then he held your chin with his thumb, guiding your mouth to his like someone dictating the rhythm of a game he had already won.
But you didn’t make it easy.
Your fingers slid down to his hand, slowly weaving between his long bones. Then you took one of his fingers between your lips. Slow, bold, asking without speaking: answer me.
Your tongue traced the tip, warm, soft, provoking.
Jester froze.
One second.
Two.
Then he let out a low, hoarse sound. Almost a filthy compliment.
“Such a little dare…” he murmured, his voice vibrating against your neck. “You want to play with me like that?”
He pulled your face back, and this time he took your finger between his teeth. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make your whole body pay attention. His tongue brushed the side equally torturous, wet, leonine.
You gasped. He loved that.
His hands traveled down your waist, pulling you onto his lap with cruel ease. Your body fit against his, heat blooming immediately between you. The friction was light, but present as a warm pressure that made your thoughts dissolve.
You moved your hips just a little. A test.
Jester sucked in a breath, answering by grinding softly against your center. A calculated rub that stole a faint sound from your throat. Too soft to be called a moan, yet he heard it. He always did.
Your eyelids fluttered shut as his hands explored you. Your hair, your shoulders, elbows, the curve behind your knee. Then those fingers slid under your clothes, finding your chest. His fingertips circled around your nipple: first as a study, then as a provocation. A light pull, a precise pinch, enough to arch your body into his.
You answered by grabbing his face, pulling him closer, and licking along his jawline.
Jester shivered visibly. Rare.
(Wow. Congratulations, my dearest one.)
He looked almost surprised for a moment, blinking, before a soft laugh broke from him. It was beautiful — unrestrained, yet dark in that way everything about him was. He seemed deeply entertained and pleased.
“Very fun, my dear. Continue,” he asked, brushing his fingers softly against your face. “Just remember that every button you unfasten pushes me to my limit, and every touch is an invitation. Think carefully before I…”
Before he could whisper something else or nibble your cheek, something startled you. A sudden, impatient sound near the closed dressing room doors caused you to bump into the book resting on the table, knocking it down.
Jester grimaced — clearly unhappy, after how inspired he’d been moments ago. Instinctively, he held you tighter while waiting for the voice outside.
“Jester?” the voice called. It was the Ticket Taker. “The show starts in half an hour. We already have a crowd gathering.”
Jester’s body tensed for just a moment. Then he leaned back against you with a manic, warm, frustrated sigh.
“I appreciate the warning, Ticket Taker, but I’m fully aware of my duties. There is nothing to worry about.”
His voice gradually slipped back into that precise, cold tone. That same heavy cadence you struggled so hard to melt earlier.
Damn the Ticket Taker. What an awful timing!
Regardless, Jester cupped your face, a smile half-charm, half-sweet threat curling on his lips. A quick, rushed farewell.
He pulled away only enough to rise, keeping his hand clasped around yours a second longer than necessary. His gaze traveled your body as if memorizing every point left unresolved.
“Don’t wander off too far, little creature. I want to smell the longing when I return.”
You lifted your eyes to his, and you could swear yours glowed along with his purplish, tempting, commanding ones, in a dark amethyst shimmer. You nodded at his words, smiling faintly.
The door shut.
You were left in complete silence, alone with yourself and with the book sprawled on the floor. It was covered in his notes and comments in another specific section. You narrowed your eyes to read carefully, and the paragraphs no longer spoke of brothels, desire, obsession, madness, punishment, torture or death by hanging.
They spoke of something much more vulnerable and surprisingly sad.
The passage described the bell-ringer: twisted body, deformed face, timid kindness, purity contained in a giant the world called a beast.
Jester had filled the margins with notes. Many. And they were surprisingly calm.
“Just someone who existed wrong.”
“Deformed? Funny. The world only accepts monsters when they become spectacle.”
“The whole city is more deformed than he is.”
“The tower is just a metaphor. The real prison is the flesh-and-blood keeper."
"His cell sounds far too familiar.”
This last sentence, the most personal, had been scratched out many, many times. Nervous strokes from someone who wanted to erase it, to send the words to hell.
You swallowed hard at reading something so revealing, so clearly not meant for you.
The room was now silent without him sharing it with you, but you could still hear the lively music and muffled conversations of the visitors rushing outside.
Who would have thought that after such captivating moments sparked by a simple reading session, you’d be left with such personal, sympathetic notes from someone like Jester? Notes with no teeth, no sarcasm, no extravagance. Just the truth.
You closed the book gently, like someone tucking away a secret that shouldn’t have existed.
And, for the first time that night, you missed him. Not out of desire, but out of understanding.
small note: hi, it’s let! so, I had this idea after stumbling across a video with some cool facts about Jester, and to be honest, I already wanted to write something for him ever since his reveal. but I have to admit, he wasn’t exactly easy to write. it was a bit challenging, and I’m sorry if he feels a little OOC at any point.
being the realest ever, jester's kinda my type. this whole idea of intellectual stimulation seems quite appealing to me. i'd fold easily, truly. plus, the semester ended! I can finally cook (write), yay!
furthermore, the book they're reading is my all-time favorite! so this was a lot of fun to do. I hope that, even if unusual, it fits with his love of literature and that it's creative in some way. thanks for reading, if you've reached this far. take care, xoxo <3
The Freak Circus boys' reaction to your pet! Fluffy scenario!
GN!Reader, crushing phase with the boys!
TW: Cute animals and some tomfoolery. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistakes!
This is just a small imaginative scenario, no long fic for now :^
Masterlist
Pierrot
The first time he met your puppy, he was a little afraid that he'd get attacked by the little thing. He has his own share of past contact with cats...
But he was pleasantly surprised when the doggy, instead of biting him, just woofed at him and tried jumping into his arms. Oh.
Cats are different from dogs, it seemed. Dogs are way too trusting... But so is Pierrot. He was very ecstatic to know that the one thing close to you is already so attached to him too!
From that point forward, that's his child too. He doesn't fully get why you call it your child, but he doesn't care. He shares the sentiment. It's now his too!
You yourself never expected for Pierrot to take such a huge liking to your pet... But you're honestly glad! Pierrot is generally bigger than most humans... So you were a little afraid that your puppy would bolt away from him in fear.
I think Pierrot would be super soft with your pet. Like... He'd take it on walks, buy it some treats... Jester suddenly wonders why there's a dog bed in his tent. (It's there just in case you decide to visit with your furry friend!)
He still loves you more than anything... But now part of that platonic affection belongs to the dog too lol.
I think he'd never allow the doggy to get closer to Harlequin. Honestly, he'd probably threaten Harlequin.
It's fun watching Pierrot get cuteness aggression when he stumbles upon you and the puppy sitting together on the sofa. Let him join! He brought blankets!
If your puppy ever yipped at Harlequin, Pierrot would probably back the doggy up, like the puppy was a rapper who just roasted his rival.
"Yes! Tell that green bitch!" "What the fuck-?"
Harlequin
Meeting your cat wasn't on his list of wishes... But it was whatever.
Their first meeting was... Strange, safe to say. Your cat and him were just staring at each other. You were scared that your cat would scratch him or something, knowing Harlequin's personality... But instead, the most unexpected thing happened.
Harlequin... And your cat... Were getting along? Two rage-baiters recognized each other, it seemed.
Now, Harlequin would be lying if he said that he was entirely nonchalant about meeting your cat... Honestly, prior to the two of them meeting each other; Harlequin was so excited that he missed the meeting with Jester. (Which he'd regret later, Jester would make sure he would regret it.)
I think Harlequin is a certified cat lover.
Harlequin and your cat would sometimes be so in sync that it's scary honestly.
That's not your cat anymore, that's his cat.
Harlequin would say he doesn't care about your cat, but still buy it toys/treats/clothes.
I think it'd be really funny if Harlequin secretly taught your cat to attack Pierrot on sight. He'd be in your room... Sitting on your bed with your cat in front of him... Holding up a picture of Pierrot and pointing at it. Teaching it to viciously attack.
Ticket Taker hates to see Harlequin and the cat coming to the circus with you in tow. Promise to clean up after these two, yeah?
Jester
He never cared for your pet when you mentioned it. So what? He just likes you, not your pet. Who cares about some bird?
That's until he actually sees the bird. It's magnificent. He likes the bird's wings and its colors... That bird screams power, and that's exactly what Jester likes.
He found himself researching some things about the species of that particular bird... He knows that The Doctor is a bird, but it felt weird to ask him something like that. So he did his own research.
Jester wasn't just doing it because he found himself adoring the bird... Secretly. He was also doing it to... What? Impress you? Perhaps.
Jester honestly surprised himself with how much he was doing just to know more about some stupid bird.
The bird itself was nonchalant about Jester... But grew to like him over time when it found out that Jester doesn't have any malicious intent with you.
It'd be hilarious to catch Jester trying to have a conversation with your bird... And it'd be something silly.
Ooh... If it would be a parrot, I think it'd be super cute if Jester kept repeating the same phrases in front of the bird, just so the parrot would repeat them to you.
"I adore you, [Name]. You're doing a good job... Such a good human you are."
And you'd instantly know who would be the culprit lol.
Ticket Taker
Ticket Taker isn't very fond of most animals. Mostly because they tend to be messy and needy... And The Ticket Taker is all about cleanness and order.
But he's all talk. The moment you wanted to show him your hamster? He was down for it. (Folded like a lawn chair for you, but he tried not to be too obvious.)
Hamsters are small creatures, so the moment Ticket Taker saw your pet... His first thought went like; "oh. It's small. It probably doesn't do so much mess."
Oh how absolutely WRONG it was of him to think that so foolishly. He almost immediately regretted it after he found out how much you pay for the hamster. Jesus Christ.
You're lucky he loves you so much.
After their first meeting, Ticket Taker did his best to ignore it and only focus his attention on you. But hamsters were quite needy for attention...
So when you ask him to hold your hamster?
He did so reluctantly... But the moment he holds it in his hands, he notices little things. The color of its fur, the size of the thing... Suddenly, he feels what humans would call... Cuteness aggression?
The little pet was actually cute.
And that was absolutely unacceptable! This was manipulation. This was criminal offense. This was... Soft. Fuck.
He came around to your hamster. Finding likeness to it... You sometimes even caught him buying your hamster a toy.
He's never gonna forget when you teased him about it.
The Doctor
The moment you told The Doctor about your pet spider, he was immediately interested. Way more interested than you probably expected... But he kept asking questions about it, until you gave in and decided to introduce the two to one another.
Of course, before he met the spider, The Doctor decided to read up on some information about spiders. It came in handy, safe to say.
Seeing The Doctor's strange nature and your spider's nonchalance made them almost immediately friends.
Nowadays, it's like the spider belongs to The Doctor. But of course, The Doctor makes sure to remind you that the magnificent creature still belongs to you.
The Doctor is so freakishly tall, that the spider was at first pretty scared of him... But came around when The Doctor showed it gentleness and kindness.
The Doctor couldn't help but buy it a tiny bed with its name on it.
You're honestly just glad they like each other's company.
I think it'd be cute if The Doctor had a special place for the spider in his tent! Like a little corner, decorated just for your visits with the spider.
"I need to test if my lipstick is kiss-proof on you!"
The Freak Circus boys' reaction to you trying out which lipstick is waterproof by covering their faces with lipstick! Just you doing that one trend, you know... This one?
(this is so cute, I don't know if anyone already did this, but I just had to do it!)
GN!Reader, romantic relationship
Neck ruff is the collar that's around Pierrot's neck!
TW: Lots of kisses! I apologize if I mischaracterized any of the characters! English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistakes.
Masterlist
Pierrot
You came up to him and asked him if "you can test which lipstick of yours is kiss-proof."
His immediate reaction was... Honestly one of confusion. He tilted his head to the side, blinked at you slowly... Taking in your words.
He really doesn't understand what you mean by that request, but he loves you too much to deny. So he nodded. The bells on his clown hat giving a little jingle, as he gives you a warm smile.
"Of course, my love. Whatever it is you need."
Little did he know he'd end up sitting on the couch, dizzy, with kiss marks covering his face, hands, and even his neck. His clothes ended up either rumpled, or tossed away.
You reach over to the table before you, grabbing another new shade of lipstick. This one is the color of orange. A pretty shade that you faintly remember buying a month ago, because it reminded you of Pierrot.
You adjusted the pocket mirror so you could properly see yourself. Applying the lipstick on your lips, you glance at Pierrot next to you briefly.
He's slumped on the couch, his face red. Not just from the onslaught of your kisses, but also from his own blush that's coloring his cheeks. His hair is a mess, his neck ruff nowhere to be found, his eyes are dilated... Like a cat's eyes. Or a happy dog who got the attention of his favorite person.
The sight makes you laugh. But you hold it together. Can't laugh here... You still need to say that one line.
"Hm... We still haven't found one lipstick that's kiss-proof!" You sighed dramatically, just to dramatize the whole moment even further. "You must be getting awfully bored of this experiment."
The moment those words left your lips, Pierrot seemed to come to his senses a little bit. He gave you an expression that looked almost like he was offended.
"No!" Pierrot almost desperately shook his hand, taking your wrist and pulling you closer to him with one gentle tug. He grinned widely, a trickle of drool making its way down his chin. "Do it again... More. Please." Pierrot almost begged when he spoke those words, his voice rough from unuse.
Pierrot's hand slid from your wrist to your waist. Pulling you over to seat you on his lap. His yellow eyes turned into that familiar heart-shape that you're so used to seeing. "I like it. I... I'm your canvas! P-Please..."
He took your hand, kissing your wrist gently, all while maintaining eye contact with you. "...Do it again, darling..."
He pointed at his face with his other free hand, batting his eyes at you. But his grin remained on his face. How could you resist him?
With a soft, amused sigh, you smiled up at him and gave him a nod. You didn't respond to his begging with words, you just leaned in and gave him another kiss. Leaving behind an orange lipstick mark.
Pierrot is absolutely putty in your hands. He loves the feeling of your lips on his face...
He might cheekily kiss you back after you're finished.
Then he'd gently take you in his hands, cradling you and holding you bridal style... Before heading towards your bedroom.
Look at what you've done. You got him all excited! Unless... That's exactly what you've wanted?
Harlequin
His first reaction to your request was an interest lift of his eyebrow. He's not entirely sure what you mean by that... But he's intrigued.
He's usually the dirty-minded one, but when you first asked to "try out which lipstick is kiss-proof"... His first instinct surprisingly wasn't that you're going to kiss the daylights out of him.
"Oh~? What's this now? Hm... Kiss-proof lipstick, huh?"
It just wouldn't be Harlequin if he wouldn't tease you about your request. Yet the way you seemed determined made him pause.
Of course he said yes to you! You're his lover at the end of the day... (One he secretly believes he totally doesn't deserve).
He freezes the moment you give him the first kiss. Genuine surprise coloring his face for a minute there... Before he regains his composure, and grins.
It's been what... Hours? Since the first kiss. And now... Harlequin stopped counting. He watched you from the corner of his eye. His pupils slitted like that of a snake. His face was... Red. Though he blamed it on the temperature.
Dammit, he was the one who was supposed to be teasing you! And yet here you are. Sitting between his legs, peppering his face with kisses.
You never actually expected him to turn this... Quiet. You're not really used to Harlequin acting like this with you. Usually he's oozing confidence. He'd normally be teasing the hell out of you by now. Probably having his long tongue in your throat already.
But he was... Quiet. It almost unsettled you. This reaction of his wasn't something you accounted for. Nevertheless, you continued with this harmless prank. About to paint your lips with another layer of lipstick... This one was green. You choose that one on purpose.
It's a shame that you didn't get far with Harlequin. Before you could apply the lipstick, pursuing your lips already, Harlequin's hand grasped your wrist. He leaned in, his signature grin making its way on his face.
"So this is what you meant, butterfly." He mused, amused dripping from his tongue. But his voice was softer. Almost breathless from the attack of your kisses. He couldn't help but trace your lips with his fingers. Gently tilting your chin up to face him properly.
"You know..." He started, letting the sentence hang in the air for a moment. You could tell what was on his mind just from the sound of his voice. "I wouldn't mind if you decide to greet me like this everyday..."
Harlequin's gaze shifted from your eyes to your lips. Staring at them intently. He grinned mischievously, licking his lips. "Your lips are already swollen." He paused, making direct eye contact with you. He shifted his position to lean closer to you, whispering directly in your ear. "Let's settle this... In bed."
"Harley—" You couldn't even finish your sentence before you got yanked up by him. Tossing you over his shoulder like you were just a couple of grapes. "Fuck. Don't call me that now... You're really asking for it, aren't you?"
He pivoted over to your bedroom. Not stopping even once in his stride, despite whatever you might tell him. Who cares if you still need to clean up the lipsticks? That can wait.
Safe to say... You were in for a night.
Since you covered his face in lipstick, he'll make sure to cover you in bites!
He just loves to bite you.
Jester
Jester doesn't usually engage himself with these silly things. He has a circus to run and two grown men to look after (*cough* Harlequin and Pierrot *cough*)
But... When he saw the downright mischievous look on your face, he couldn't help himself and feed his curiosity.
Lipstick is usually used by humans to raise their appeal, right? Truth be told, he doesn't understand why you even need that thing, he thinks you're gorgeous already... But he won't stop you.
Besides... He's interested in what you have in mind when you say you need to test if it's "kiss-proof".
So he decided to humor you.
"Hm... Alright, darling. Do what you must."
He came to regret those words later...
Matte, satin, cream, sheer, glossy, liquid... Jester started losing track of how many types of lipstick you tried on him already. You were very... Excited. He could see that plastered all over your face.
Jester's face was covered in so many lipstick marks that he couldn't keep up. His face didn't show it much... But his breathing was labored.
"Awww... This one isn't kiss-proof either... Oh well! Let's keep trying!" You little tease. Jester could see right through your 'sorry' act. He was something of an actor himself, of course he could see through your lies.
He'd be lying if he said the thought of hypnotizing you to stop this didn't cross his mind... But did he actually do it?
...Of course he didn't. Perhaps he was enjoying this too. He just didn't let it be known.
"Ah yes. What a tragedy." Jester responded to your dramatic exclaimation with a sarcasm of his own. His sharp grin slowly stretched on his face, as he leaned back on the couch. Jester looked at the table where the many lipsticks are placed.
A thought crossed his mind... A thought that was too tempting to let go. His grin sharpened, as he chuckled, and grabbed one of your lipsticks.
A surprised expression passed on your face, as you looked at him in confusion. What was he doing? Nothing good usually happened when he had that look on his face.
"You can't possibly test all of these on your own, pet." Jester deliberately made sure to tease you, as he opened the satin lipstick that had a purple shade. Jester picked that one out seemingly for its color. "Allow me to... Help you out."
"Jester? What are you—" you couldn't even finish your sentence before he was on you, the lipstick on his lips. He pinned you on the couch, holding your wrists above your head, as he began kissing your lips directly.
Jester decided that he should return your favor, and kiss you back. Except... His bottled up excitement affected his kisses so much that he ended up not only covering your face with the lipstick... But also your body.
He undressed you slowly as he kissed down your body, making sure to enjoy you as much as he could.
You're lucky that he was on his break that time... Or else he'd leave you wet and weeping for him.
Though... It's not like he wouldn't give you what you want after his show.
Hopefully you learned your lesson; Jester likes your kisses way too much than he lets on.
Ticket Taker
Bill is a very busy man. Everybody knows that. He spends most of his time either obsessively cleaning the circus, or standing by the ticket stand.
...But he always makes time for you.
The moment you ask him that question, he almost thinks he misheard. Kiss-proof lipstick?? That sounded like nonsense to him.
He can't let himself get persuaded to engage in something so childish— .... His eyes drifted down to your lips, and he found his curiosity peaked.
He doesn't fully know what you mean by your request... But he does have an idea. He's seen some people on the circus grounds doing this one trend. Perhaps you're gonna do the same?
...Shit, if that's the case then he's down! Uh... He means- ahem. Sure. As long as it's... Appropriate. (He's way too proper for this).
"Oh? You want what now? ...I suppose I'll allow it."
The way he speaks made you almost think he's onto you, but he really wasn't. Because he had a small idea doesn't mean that he truly knows what you're planning.
Ticket Taker, Bill, was sitting on the couch. His mask is nowhere to be seen... Mostly because you tossed it across the room the moment he sat down. His back straight as a ruler... But his entirely composure and gentlemanly behavior cracked the moment your first landed on his cheek. Now he leaned back like melted butter.
Only you get to see him like that... And he'd like to keep it that way.
Bill watches you carefully, as you apply a new shade of lipstick on your lips. He tried to keep his thoughts pure... Really tried. But you were making it into a challenge for him and his sanity.
"What a bummer!" You exclaimed dramatically, placing your hands over your cheeks, as you pouted. Playing the whole thing up way more dramatically than it needed to be. "There's no kiss-proof lipstick! Well, looks like we're gonna have to keep searching!"
Bill rarely smiled, despite his mask wearing a smile. But he really couldn't help the way his lips curled up into an amused smile when you spoke those words. You were so silly... He liked that about you.
You expected to fluster him, make him speechless. Maybe a little needy... But you didn't expect him to point at one of the lipstick tubes. "Try this one. The color matches your eyes."
Bill doesn't get moments like this often. Moments where he can just relax next to his beloved... So he's taking full advantage of that now. He was genuinely engaging with your plan.
He seemed to notice your surprise, which was evident when he chuckled and shook his head. "Is something the matter?"
"You're... Not flustered? Even a little bit?" You blinked at him, but you still reached for the lipstick he was pointing at. Soft blush rising on your cheeks.
Bill shook his head, and gently lifted you up by your waist, sitting you down on his knee. "Not at all. Please... Continue search for- uh... The 'kiss-proof' lipstick."
You knew that he was onto you when you saw his grin. But still... Your fun wasn't ruined, it was reciprocated. Which made your smile widen in sheer glee.
The next hour was spent with you kissing Bill all over his face with various different shades of lipstick.
He might've lost himself in you for a moment... But he didn't regret a single moment with you.
He picked the right human as his mate.
Bill wasn't as freaky as the others, but if you ask really nicely... He will take you to the bedroom.
The Doctor
You want to try what now with him??
He didn't fully understand your request... And being the nerd genius that he is, he immediately began making up theories of what you could possibly plan.
Kiss-proof... Sounded like waterproof. Waterproof is a term used for things that can withstand water. So... Going by that logic— ...oh. Oh.
You got The Doctor flustered for a single moment, only from being caught off guard. Of course, nothing slips past the doctor.
But... The thought of you trying to figure out what lipstick is kiss-proof... He suddenly took it way too seriously.
"Sweetie, you should've said so earlier."
You think he'll let you do what you please for a moment... But no. He didn't. He grabbed your hand, gently, and started taking you towards his tent without even asking you any more questions.
Well... By the looks of it, you were busted.
You've been sitting in The Doctor's chair for a while now. Staring up at the huge bird man, as he held up one of your lipsticks. You should've known that he'd take this thing seriously... Great.
"Are you aware that kissing requires the engagement of exactly one hundred and forty-six muscles?" You usually liked listening to The Doctor's fun facts about the human body... But this isn't really what you envisioned.
You sighed, and shook your head. "That's... Fascinating, Doctor. But I was hoping—"
"So let's put that to the test, shall we?" The suddenness of The Doctor's next words made you pause. Your eyes widened as you looked up into his eyes. That plague mask of his is still in place, as his huge hand gently grabs your face. Tilting it up.
You can't properly see it for a moment, but The Doctor smiles widely behind his mask. Unclasping the red lipstick, and gently applying it on your lips. "I admire your creativity, [Name]... But I must interject."
He hesitated for a fraction of a moment, before taking off his mask. The shadows were so convenient that you couldn't even see his face right now. How cruel.
You only remember your doctor leaning in closer to you, before kissing you. Directly on the lips. Your eyes fluttered close as he got really into it. Gently biting down on your lower lip. You moaned into the kiss... But before anyone could go further, he leaned away. Placing his hand on your thigh, he grinned, and grabbed another shade of lipstick from the table with his other free hand.
"This one didn't hold up. Let's try again."
You weren't the one giving The Doctor kisses... He was the one who initiated them. Over and over again.
Your lips were very kissable... And he liked the excuse of figuring out which lipstick is kiss-proof.
Except he couldn't really care less what lipstick was kiss-proof. He just wanted to keep kissing you. He knows he probably didn't need that excuse... But eh. A win is a win.
Summary: The unpleasant times have returned once again. Yet, no matter how much they dislike it, they can not get rid of it. However, even in misfortune, there's a silver lining: they know you can help them.
Note: I don’t care they’re monsters. I want them to be weak and desperate in heat, and the best part is— no one can stop me. But remember this is quite fanon and there might be a lot of ooc.
I have no intention to be disrespectful to the creator of TFC at all.
Ticket Taker was the most experienced in this matter in the circus. So he noticed the signs a few days in advance. And of course, he was well-prepared— anything essential was in place. He didn’t panic or worry about it at all, he’s just waited patiently for it to happen.
For him, it was like an illness that recurred periodically, annoying and incurable.
His body felt weak and feverish; he sweated ceaselessly, and the part he loathed most of all— the demonic overflowing lust.
It rendered him unable to focus on his work; it encroached upon his logic and reason, leaving him feeling he had lost control over himself.
And that might be the reason he asking Jester for something illogical…You. As his helper to this matter by having particular sessions together. It is unfortunate that you were not very cooperative; consequently, an aphrodisiac had to be administered to you.
With feeble strength, you scraped at your shirt in sheer discomfort—like a cat with blunted claws. Your skin flushed crimson from the heat burning within; you rubbed your legs back and forth restlessly, shedding tears until pillow was soaked.
Ticket Taker almost feels sorry for you, almost.
He has to admit…seeing you begging helplessly like this was such a good view.
Poor thing, you shouldn’t caught his attention at all. Truly is a misfortune to be picked to dance with a monster.
But it’s not like he allowed you to run.
He slowly peeled away your clothes, piece by piece, until you were left wearing nothing but your lingerie. Your hands—desperately attempting to shield your skin with the last vestiges of your fading consciousness—were admirable; yet, at the very same time, they made you look even more utterly ravishable.
He scoops your leg up, place a gentle kiss on your thigh. Then bite it.
And just as he expected…his bite mark suited very you well.
He rubbed his bulging crotch against your wet underwear, his gloved hands gripping your hips so you couldn't escape from him. Ticket Taker rotated his waist, pushing you deeper. The friction of the clothes against your skin, the palpable intimacy, the heat radiating from your genitals—it was a wonderful sensation.
So wonderful he felt like he’s drowning in it.
He uses his teeth to pull off one glove before reaching into your underwear with that hand. He circles his fingertips around your lips before inserting his finger in your hole.
Compared to others in the circus, his claws are rather dull, so if he's careful, he won't hurt you.
He feels your wall squeeze him desperately as he add more fingers. One more, one more, and one more. Until fourth of his fingers went in your vagina. He pulls it out, licking the sweet taste of your pussy on his fingers. A perfect dessert.
Ticket Taker unzipped his pants, felt a bit relieved to finally let himself loose. Then he separate your legs, leans in to close the distance and whisper in your ears. “Tell me what to you want me to do to you, dear visitor.”
His voice was hoarse and enticing, like a demon temping human to do sins. His shadow covering your body like you about to be devoured by his darkness. You struggled to open your mouth, the word struck in your throat. Ticket Taker waiting for your response, tries to kept his mask on but the burning desire getting harder to endure.
“Please…”
you speak faintly. And that’s all he needs.
Thanks to good preparation, he can easily slip inside you. Satisfied that your warm pussy welcomed him very well. He sigh happily for finally be able to release his emotions, almost laughing.
This is great…he should do it with you more often.
His movements were so fluid it reminded you of your blue dildo back home. One that you often sit on after a tiring day. It was the touch that felt too familiar— even similar in size and shape. The difference is that the one plumping you now is real. And it felt so so much better.
Your bodies are in incredible harmony. It's all too good, he generously treats you with his cock. The sound of his heavy breathing in your ear tickled you. He twisted his waist intently, feeling as if every movement caused his thoughts to fade away…dissolved from the brain.
But Ticket Taker didn't hate it.
However, he suddenly lifted you up, causing his cock to slip deeper into you than before. He carried you to a stop in front of a large mirror. Where you can clearly see your condition. Your hair is messy and eyes are watery—as if your consciousness is about to float away. The floor was stained from the water dripping from your pussy. The sight so clear you’re ashamed of yourself.
A soft chuckle was earned from a man right behind you. He snapped his finger one time and a shadow lurking appeared inside the mirror, you feel like you being touched by some invisible hand. It’s cold like someone rubbing an ice on your skin sending a goosebumps through your body. You shaking harder as Ticket Taker starts thrusting your pussy again.
He pressed you on the cold glass of the mirror, a dark hand on the other grabbed your neck to leans for a kiss. Playing with your tongue while you struggled to breathe.
Ticket Taker tightened his grip as he moving faster when he felt close then slap hard thrust into you pushing as deep as he could. He then grabbed your face, turning it to kiss him, rather than his reflection in the mirror. He made you swallow his saliva as he released his hot cum inside you. A long passionate kiss…then finally let go of your mouth to allowing you to breathe again.
Both of you trembling from the pleasure echoing in your spine. Ticket Taker didn’t let go you, he still grip your hip firmly— not even when he’s shaking from the satisfaction of climax and fulfill your womb.
Your eyelids feel heavy with exhaustion. But the hardened cock in your vagina drag you back to reality.
“I’m sorry to inform you that we were far from the end of the session, dear visiter.”
He will take the very best care of you tonight. Because, after all, since you have received a blue ticket, you ought to make the most of it. Don’t you agree?
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Note: finally ending TT chapter! I might correct the story later but I was satisfied with the result now. I’m trying to make it less word and more porn, don’t know if I captured it right.
And I’m apologies for not tagging rape probably in jester last part. I didn’t know some that censor the word rape with r@pe with slip some people censored content who doesn’t want to read it. I’ll be careful with it from now on. I still learning this platform system so if I did anything wrong I hope you told me nicely and politely. And please heed the warning of the content before reading.
And for Doctor chapter, it will take some long time to finish. Because I’m quite busy lately. Bye now.
Summary: The unpleasant times have returned once again. Yet, no matter how much they dislike it, they can not get rid of it. However, even in misfortune, there's a silver lining: they know you can help them.
Note: I don’t care they’re monsters. I want them to be weak and desperate in heat, and the best part is— no one can stop me. But remember this is quite fanon and there might be a lot of ooc.
I have no intention to be disrespectful to the creator of TFC at all.
The heat just begins out of nowhere and before he could know it, he’s already in your room. Legs trembling by your scent that made him eager to inhale every last of it. He picked up one of your cloth on the floor and sniffed in while almost tearing his pant down to touch himself.
He clenched his fists before thrusting himself in, pretending it was you. His sharp teeth bit into your shirt. He panted, tears welling up in his eyes, feeling ashamed of himself, yet he couldn't restrain his hips. What would you think of him if you saw him in this condition? Would you be disgusted by him? Would you still love him?
He imagined your smiling face, the kindness you showed him, your small hands touching his fingertips as he handed the ticket.
‘Pierrot.’
The sound of your voice calling his name from memory brought him to a climax. His legs tensed, his body trembled with the ecstatic release. Slowly keeling down because of his legs couldn’t handle the pleasures. But it’s still not enough, His hands can't replace you. Normally it would, but it’s barely enough right now.
Ah… he feels so guilty for staining your shirt, but it's okay... he'll get you a new one. In exchange, this shirt will join his collection like the others in his tent.
He look at the time, counting every second that has passed— waiting until you clocked out of your shift. Feeling more and more irritating.
You arrived shortly after following your schedule in his mind. Pierrot rushed towards you even before the lights in the room were turned on. He gently placed you on the bed as softly as he could at that moment, then carefully unbuttoned your shirt, though unintentionally tearing your underwear.
Sobbing against your chest as he awkwardly caresses your lower body, trying to prepare you and made you feel good as he repeat whispering ‘Please…’ to you like a dying devotee in front of the god he worships.
Well. You are his god, the only one he will be worship in his life.
He begs you, rubbing his swollen, lustful cock against your thighs as you could feel his hot skin, and when the permission is granted, his long, thick tongue was carefully inserted into you. Though intensely aroused, he cannot bear the pain of seeing you hurt of sudden move. His claws would injure you, so his tongue is the best solution at this moment.
Pierrot massages your waist and spreads your legs as you writhe in pleasure. He devours you like a gourmet meal he'll never get to taste again in his life. Regardless of how messy he is, he makes sure you won’t feel any pain when the act begins.
He withdrew his tongue and swallowed every drop in his mouth, even though it failed to quench his thirst. “I’m sorry my lady…b–but I can’t wait any longer…”
He apologized before lifting your waist onto his lap. The tip of his penis rubbed against your clit before he used his hand to guide it into your hole, followed by a heavy thrust that allowed him to fully insert every inch of himself. His body trembled as your wet gummy wall hugged his twitching cock.
This is…way way better than he imagined. To be connecting to you, to be one with you. To feel you…to be inside you, closer than before.
A dream come true.
He told himself he will be gentle with you, but it was so difficult when he could barely control his body and almost let his instinct take over the moment the tip of his cock kissed your cervix. Such lewd, lewd feeling.
However when you moan his name, his final straw snap. Pierrot could smell blood coming out of his own nose, even his body could not handle the thought of you. It’s trigger him.
Then he began thrusting you like a wild animal consumed by lust and all sins. Every thing is cruel and your warm hole is his only safe place. If he can choose he wants to die here.
He’s love you so, so much. Love you so desperately, so pathetically. A part of him feels bad for you that you’re the one he felt in love with; but how could he not? How could anyone not falls for your charm? How lucky he is to be able to meet you— to love you like this.
You dug your nails into his back, but it did nothing but leave scratches that didn't cause him the slightest sting. He continued thrusting into you, his tongue hanging out, saliva dripping onto your incredibly alluring breasts.
And so he suck it just like a starving infant.
No milk comes out but if he continues to fuck you like this, maybe you’ll produce some. One way to find out is to keep thrusting.
Pierrot presses himself closer to you as he feels he's about to cum, the bell on his hat jingling along with the sound of your bodies colliding. His muscles tensed as he was about to reach his breaking point.
“M-my lady I’m…huff…c-close.”
My lady. My dearest. My goddess. My love—
“My…hic! My love!”
Tear finally run down his face as he let out his load in you. Feeling like his whole body being electrocuted and losing control over it. Trembling as he still ejaculated in you nonstop. Every part in his body felt weak and he end up resting his head on your chest. Crying out of overwhelming pleasure in his spine.
“Hah…a…ah–mfh—! My lady…mhmm~!♡”
Your tight grip made him convulse again, and with that last drop of his cum he released, the intense pleasure almost made him lose his mind.
“A-Ah…I’m sorry I finished before you my lady. I promise this time I’ll made you feel good too.”
And Pierrot always keeps his promise. He got the whole night to do so as well. Don’t worry…he will treat you with so, so much overflowing love.
Summary: The unpleasant times have returned once again. Yet, no matter how much they dislike it, they can not get rid of it. However, even in misfortune, there's a silver lining: they know you can help them.
Note: I don’t care they’re monsters. I want them to be weak and desperate in heat, and the best part is— no one can stop me. But remember this is quite fanon and there might be a lot of ooc.
I have no intention to be disrespectful to the creator of TFC at all.
And also bad English in this post too.
Chapter 3/5: Jester
Warning: Non-con, dub-con, hypnosis, kidnapping. DEAD DOVE: do not eat. THERE’S FUCKING RAPE INIT. JUST BECAUSE I WRITE THIS DOESN’T MEAN I ROMANTICIZE OR SUPPORT IT. DO NOT ENDORSING OR IMITATING THE CHARACTER’S ACTIONS.
Pierrot,Harlequin,TicketTaker,Doctor
Jester
Everything is so annoying today. He’s more easily irritated than usual; it’s very hard to hide this abnormal behavior, everyone in the circus is concern about him. So he’s brush it off and tell them he’s fine.
He’s knows what it is and he knew what to do. He’s just doesn’t want to listen to his dark self that been screaming your name nonstop.
You. Out of all people…, not to mention that you are a human.
He hates human with his whole soul. So he should hate everything about you. But out of every possible excuse he’s been telling himself, he can’t deny it no longer; his heart has betrayed him— he had falls head over heels for you.
Jester doesn’t want to believe it, that’s why he’s been shoving his feelings under the rug. Ignoring it. But his gaze still finds its way to you. And he felt his heart being more consumed by you each time it happened.
Until there’s no place for him to walk away.
you take control of his heart. And you didn’t even know it.
He doesn’t want to admit…but now that he’s standing on the edge. He has to accept it. And since you left him with no choice, he won't give you any either.
Jester doesn’t ask for permission or consent. He doesn’t warn or wait. As soon as the decision was made, you were brought to him. It’s easy, he’s just order some fools to bring you to his tent. Where no one would dare to disturb him, where no one can hear you cry and no one can save you.
He did use his ability on you. Prevent you from doing something nonsense; but he didn’t numb you completely. Because what’s the point of it if you can’t remember?
No. You have to remember this moment for to rest of your pity life. Remember exactly who you belongs to.
He order you to sit still and tear your clothes into pieces. Growled hoarsely as he buried his face in your neck, inhaling your scent deeply before biting you without warning. Then soothe you by licking your wounds, savoring the sweet taste every drop of your blood.
Jester marked you with teeth. Bite marks all over you. He cover you with his trace, so others will know that you are owned, that you are claimed.
“Open your mouth.” He’s ordered.
Because you weren't completely controlled, you refused to do as he says. He let out a ‘Tsk’ sound and squeezed your chin until you finally opened your mouth. He forced his tongue inside, not caring if you choke. Pushing his tongue deeper while kissing you passionately. Fucking your throat with his tongue. One hand sliding down to play with your clit, rub it until you convulse pathetically.
“Look at you, pretending to hate it but wanting it so badly. What an adorable reaction.”
The more he saw you trembling with fear and your eyes welling up with tears, the more aroused he felt, like a predator enjoying cornering its prey. He licked his dry lips, turned you face down on the bed, then took off his clothes.
He lifted your hips and thrust into you instantly. The smell of blood from the unexpected penetration drove him even more insane. Your vagina initially tensed in shock at the sudden insertion. The long, slender shaft cock made your stomach churn. You wanted to scream for help but could do nothing more than cry silently. Jester nailed you with his cock, fuck you shamelessly like a dog.
“Grrr—! Hahh…”
He’ll mold your inside into his shape, so no one will be able to fulfill you like him. You will never be satisfied by anyone but him.
You can’t. He won’t allow you.
Each thrust filled with possession. Filled with the desire to make you his entirely, leaving no room for anyone else to come in between.
He wants to possess you just like how you have possessed his heart. Uncontrollable. Unwilling. Undeniable.
This is your fault, you have brought this to yourself. “You put me in this situation. So you will take it.”
Plub!
“GRRR!”
A hard thrust before resting himself on your back. After release the last drop Jester leisurely pulling his cock out while still twitching, huffing and smiles as he saw you trembling beneath. Even he’s not in a better condition.
He may not have as much strength as usual, but compared to a human like you, he has enough energy to keep going until the next sunrise.
A purple collar, engraved with his name, was taken from the bedside drawer. He placed it on you like giving you a reward, but in reality it’s a proof that you belonged to him. In case bite marks and his scent on you weren't enough for those foolish human.
Well, he would like to see them try.
“Don’t faint darling. We have a long way to go.”
Don’t worry. Jester will take good care of you. You will learn to accept his love—to love him. Even if he has to chain you to do so.
vaporwave
germansingergirl
ellievsbear
