Save me Tim Wright.. save me...

Ticket Taker -Supportive

He's unsurprisingly supportive of this change. Infact he would prefer if his partner was clean shaven. He keeps himself trimmed for neatness, and prefers if you take that into consideration that too. He’s already iffy about being in contact with your genitals in general— humans being beneath monsterkind and what not, but if you were hairless down there, it would strike him as being more sanitary. Or at least easier to make sanitary. In conclusion, big stamp of approval and maybe a gold star if you're good enough.

—

You stood in front of your full bedroom mirror, turning side to side with a satisfied little smile. You were pleasantly surprised to see just how well the depilatory cream worked. What used to be a meadow of coarse hair spanning from your inner thigh and thinning in a wide arch just below your belly button, now was soft, shiny skin.

Content with the impromptu experiment, there was little left to do so you had decided to call it a night and see what tomorrow had in store.

For bed, you'd chosen a lingerie set Bilheteiro gifted you some time ago. It hugged your figure comfortably, all while leaving very little to the imagination. This particular set hadn't come with underwear, something that happened to work in your favor tonight, allowing you to admire the finished result without distraction.

The last addition to your nightwear was far less glamours.

A Pair of mis-matched black and white socks you had to plead for Bil to allow you to keep.

He insisted mismatched socks were untidy, incomplete, the sort of thing that made his eye twitch. You, in turn, argued that they reminded you of him. He hadn't appreciated the comparison nearly as much as you had.

Still, after enough pleading, he'd relented.

Warmed by the fuzzy memory, you adjusted the hem of your top one last time, tugging it down slightly before smoothing your hands over your hips. A giddy little giggle escaped you as you checked yourself from another angle.

Then, without warning, your reflection rippled and all at once, it distorted like melting oil paints mixing on a canvas. The glass seemed to melt, blurring and twisting around the frame, and your reflection blanched into that of another.

There's an old saying: speak of the devil, and he shall appear. You'd always assumed it was only a figure of speech.

Judging by the amused curve of Bilheteiro's smile as he peered at you through the mirror, perhaps it wasn't.

"Trying something different?"

You nod sheepishly, expecting outrage, he instead cups your face. Parting through the disturbed mirror surface with practiced ease.

"Hm..."

He cupped your jaw, his thumb tracing your cheek as his fingers slipped between your lips with effortless familiarity. There was no pause to ask permission, no flicker of uncertainty. Only ownership. Unwavering control.

You melted into the contact, sanking slowly to your knees in front of him, rough wood the only cushion for your sensitive bones.

"Was it for me?" He mummured, thumb parting from your lips, in favor of stroking lovingly over the apple of your cheek.

You purred, something between a wistful sigh and a moan building in your throat forming into a sound of pure need. Leaning into his touch, you nodded eagerly eyes large and glassy.

He smirked, a wicked little thrill running through as you could only guess what your master planned to do with you.

“Good,” He concluded. “Then allow me to appraise your work then. On your back, pet.”

—

Pierrot -Disappointed

Scents really gets him going, and it’s enhanced if you have plenty of hair down there. He’s kind of a freak sure, no doubt about it, but he genuinely wanted to drown in that smell.

He'd be heartbroken when he makes the discovery. Where did it go? Why did you take it away? Unlike Jester he wouldn't be angry persay, it's your body and you should be able to do whatever you please with it. He just wished you consulted him first! He’s just flattered he gets to see your genitals at all. Who is he to complain?... *Mourning Sniffle* *Sniff* *sniff*

—

If anyone had looked in on the scene unfolding on your bed, they might've assumed something terrible had happened.

Fortunately, the real reason you were being clung too by a enormous clown sniffling dramatically against your lower stomach was far less lamenting.

Pierrot was sulking.

Curled against you with all the sorrow of a child denied a sweet, his arms circled your waist while his forehead rested where your soft patch of hair had once been. His grip tightened ever so slightly, as though clinging to what little remained of yesterday.

"Pierrot..." you murmured, unable to suppress a fond sigh. "It'll grow back."

Your fingers found his hair, gently combing through the pale strands before settling into slow, comforting circles against his scalp.

His only response was another drawn-out sigh, airy and plaintive, like a miserable, scraggly old dog waiting for their owner, except Pierrot was a grown man and he was waiting for your bush to magically appear.

You could only shake your head with an affectionate sigh.

"C'mon big boy, let's get some rest." You cooed, cupping Pierrot's cheeks between your hands, you coaxed his face upward until those golden, mournful eyes met yours. They were still heavy with exaggerated despair, his pout as pronounced as ever.

Unable to help yourself, you smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of his head.

—

Jester -Angry

I headcanon that most of the time mother likes to keep things trim & tidy and would also like you to follow by example. Though, he likes to change it up sometimes, so he's had it all and thinks anything is fine. As long as he doesn't expressly state otherwise you're free to have whatever.

Don't mistake his flexibility for permission. Whether you keep it, trim it, or shave it entirely isn't a decision for you to make. If he wants something different, he'll tell you. Any changes to your appearance happen on his word, not your own.

—

No scenario, mother is displeased and you sleep outside for the night. 🤷

(Writer & other co-writers are lazy asf)

—

Harlequin- Flirty

His body hair is sparce— non-existent actually, but he doesn’t mind if you are on either side of the spectrum. You’re either nice and smooth, or nice and cushy. Do whatever you want. Just remember, there might end up being photo evidence of your choices tucked away somewhere and more than a few lewd comments to boot.

—

You giggled, pinned beneath him with a coy smile. “Someones eager— Jeez, atleast buy me dinner first.” you purred, voice low and teasing.

Harlequin chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated against your chest. "Dinner? My dear, I was under the impression we were already enjoying the main course."

You hardly had time to form a rebuttal, much less voice it before rough claws were all over you. In several impatient jerky tugs your shorts and the garments beneath them where removed, leaving your leaving your bare, leaking sex exposed to the elements and the prodding touch of your lover.

Harlequin's chuckle deepened, a low rumble against your chest as his rough claws, surprisingly gentle, traced a path down your side. His eyes, usually sharp with mischief, widened slightly as he encountered the unexpected smoothness. A slow, predatory grin spread across his face, a glint of surprise mingling with his usual playful intensity.

"Oh, a feast for the eyes, and perhaps... other senses?" With a playful growl, he pressed closer, leaving no room for further witty retorts as his intentions became undeniably clear.

Powerful forearms caged your thighs, pulling them apart as far as your body allowed. You shivered at the exposure then shuddered again as his tongue flicked briefly against his lowerlip, a fleeting, involuntary gesture before lowering his head, slow and deliberate, licking down the soft plane of skin that continued below your navel.

—

Doctor - Confused

(We have done an embarrassing amount of research into bird genitalia for this man and we are not proud.)

Do feathers substitute for hair? Nonetheless, he has a lot of it, Everywhere. He's also a doctor, he's well aware that bodies have pubic hair for a reason, and recommends you should leave it there. Especially don’t cut it off and say it’s for him. Upon discovering the absence of hair down there you'll be subjected to a lengthy questionnaire on the reasoning for your actions. He's not being malicious or judgey, he's genuinely curious.

—

The doctor paused, his imposing claws stilling in its position over your stomach. The action left hanging quite similar too you, pinned like an insect soon to be framed upon his gurney.

His gaze moved over me slowly, as if recalibrating, as if what stood before him no longer aligned with anything he had expected, even after all his studies.

"You depilated. Why?" His gloveless claws grazed the bareskin of your groin with absentminded curiousity, his head tilted awaiting your answer.

You squirmed in your restraints at the ghostly touches so near where a iridescent sheen pooled from your sex.

His massive hands clamped around your waist, fingers thick as rebar, unyielding as Stone, and forced you down, ceasing your squirming on his gurney. The force vacuumed the air from your lungs, slammed the gurney's cold edge into the hot flesh of your thighs, then back.

"Please, do try to focus. Especially when your doctor is speaking—If you find yourself unable...,"

Soundlessly, the restraints on your arms tightened, the pressure almost painful as it pinched your tender flesh.

"I'll have to conduct some... Investigative tests."

Uh hi, hope you enjoyed whatever that was.

To cut a long story short we got sick, and just didn't feel like writing. Things are getting a little better so the wedding is back on.

You guys have a lot of things to look forward to like Bacchanalia chapter 3 as well as more headcanons and all that fun jazz.