Jellyz

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Unfortunately, I do not allow my work to be translated or published on other websites. Thank you for understanding!

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I post fanfiction, AU ideas, and etc.. Right now I’m mainly into Freak Circus and Cookie Run Kingdom, with occasional other fandom sparks when inspiration hits.

Some of my work may explore darker or mature themes, so reader discretion is advised. And some topics or story tones may not be comfortable for everyone.

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I’m open to suggestions, fanfic ideas, and AU ideas, so feel free to drop them in my inbox if something comes to mind.

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If you’d like to support my work, I also have a Ko-fi here — it’s genuinely appreciated and helps motivate me to keep creating! ^^

However, If you'd like to fund my wishlist.. you may go through this link here , Thank you for taking your time.

• Harlequin x Reader

• Smut Fanfic

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After the drinking game shattered every last inhibition, Harlequin claimed his prize… but the night was only beginning.

The drinking game had spiraled exactly as Harlequin planned, each shot pulling you deeper into a warm, dizzy haze until your cheeks burned and your limbs felt loose and heavy. His sharp grin never faded as he watched you fail to keep pace, eyes gleaming with predatory delight. “Looks like I win again, little star,” he purred, voice low and dripping with promise. In one smooth motion he dragged you into his lap, strong arms locking around your waist as he ground his growing bulge up against you in slow, deliberate circles. The friction was immediate and insistent, letting you feel the thick outline of what was coming, the heat of him pressing firmly through layers of fabric, building that slow, aching pressure right where you needed it most.

You responded by hugging him tight, arms wrapping around his neck, face pressing into the crook of his shoulder as the alcohol and heat mixed into something softer, more vulnerable. He stiffened hard beneath you, body going rigid for a long heartbeat before a startled laugh rumbled out of his chest. “Still with the affection? Even drunk and needy like this?” His claws flexed against your sides, digging in just enough to sting, sending sharp little points of sensation racing through your skin. “You’re going to regret making me want to keep you, pet. I don’t do gentle.”

Clothes vanished in a frantic blur, your shirt yanked roughly over your head, his own garments torn away with far less care, discarded in a heap. He carried you to the bedroom like you weighed nothing, kicking the door shut before throwing you onto the bed. You bounced once on the mattress, heart pounding as he climbed over you, already fully hard. His cock was a sinuous, living thing, long, thick, ridged along its flexible length, and coated in thick, dripping slime that glistened and stretched in heavy strands. It flexed and curled slightly on its own, eager and hungry, twitching with anticipation as it hovered close.

No teasing, no slow buildup. One gloved hand pinned your wrists above your head, the leather cool and unyielding against your skin, while the other gripped your thigh, spreading you wide open with effortless strength. The blunt, slime-slick head pressed against your entrance, nudging insistently, spreading the thick lubricant around your folds in messy circles before he slammed in deep with the first brutal thrust. The thick slime made the penetration filthy and far too easy despite the size, hot, slippery pressure stretching your walls wide open as the ridged shaft burrowed inch after inch inside you. You felt every ridge catch and drag along your inner walls, the flexible length twisting immediately upon entry, curling and seeking out every sensitive spot as if it had a mind of its own. The initial stretch burned in the most delicious way, a full, overwhelming sensation that made your breath hitch and your body clench instinctively around the invasion.

Harlequin growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. “Fuck— so fucking tight around me,” he hissed, bells jingling wildly with every powerful stroke as his hips snapped forward in a fast, punishing rhythm right from the start. The wet, obscene squelch of slime and flesh filled the room, loud and constant, each thrust driving him deeper, ridges dragging relentlessly along your inner walls. The slime coated everything, making every movement slick and messy, dripping down between your bodies in thick rivulets that soaked the sheets beneath you. He didn't hold back at all, each inward slam buried him to the hilt, the flexible cock curling upward to grind hard against that perfect spot deep inside, then twisting on the pull-out to drag every ridge across your most sensitive nerves again and again.

Your body rocked hard with the force of it, pleasure slamming into you in heavy waves that built faster than you could process. He leaned down, biting at your neck and shoulder, sharp teeth grazing skin while his hips never slowed, the sinuous cock flexing and pulsing inside you, curling and uncurling in rhythmic patterns that kept constant pressure on every inch of your insides. The stretch was constant, the fullness overwhelming, every thrust sending jolts of electric pleasure radiating outward from your core. You could feel the slime warming inside you, making everything hotter, slicker, the obscene sounds growing louder as he railed you harder, wet slaps of skin on skin mixed with the squelching of his ridged length plunging in and out.

You came hard the first time without warning, walls clenching tight around the invading length as intense pleasure ripped through your entire body. Your back arched off the bed, thighs shaking violently around his waist, a broken moan tearing from your throat that only seemed to spur him on. The orgasm crashed over you in pulsing waves, your inner muscles fluttering and squeezing rhythmically around his cock, milking every ridge as he kept fucking you straight through it. Harlequin laughed darkly, low and pleased, the sound rough with arousal. “That’s it, milk me just like that, little star. Let me feel how much you need this.” He didn’t slow even a fraction, slamming in deep and grinding on every inward thrust, drawing the orgasm out longer and longer until you were trembling and oversensitive, little aftershocks pulsing around him. The slime squelched louder with every movement, dripping messily down your thighs and pooling on the bed as he kept pounding, relentless and unyielding, each thrust forcing more pleasure through your overstimulated body.

Minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity of that first position, his pace never faltering. He varied the rhythm just enough to keep you on edge, sometimes fast, shallow thrusts that focused on the ridges catching at your entrance, other times long, deep strokes where he buried himself fully and ground in slow circles, letting the flexible length twist and rub against your walls from every angle. Your wrists stayed pinned, his grip firm, while his free hand roamed, claws pricking lightly at your hips, your sides, adding sharp edges to the overwhelming pleasure. Every time you moaned or gasped his name, he rewarded you with a particularly hard thrust, the bells on his costume jingling like a chaotic soundtrack to the filthy rhythm. The slime made everything so wet, so slippery, that each withdrawal left strings of it connecting you, only for him to slam back in and drive it deeper, coating your insides completely.

Only when your first climax finally ebbed into shaky aftershocks did he pull out with a wet, filthy sound, strings of slime connecting your bodies for a lingering moment before snapping. He flipped you onto your stomach with effortless strength, yanking your hips up high so you were positioned on all fours, ass raised and presented for him. Entering from behind in one smooth, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt again, the new angle letting him hit even deeper. The ridged cock twisted as his hips snapped forward rapidly, the flexible shaft curling inside you to batter new spots, grinding against places that made stars burst behind your eyes. His body covered yours completely, chest pressed to your back while he railed you fast and merciless, the heat of him enveloping you, his breath hot against your ear.

One hand reached under to stroke you roughly in time with his thrusts, claws lightly grazing sensitive skin in a way that made everything sharper, more intense. Slime splattered across your thighs and the mattress with every brutal stroke, the flexible shaft curling and battering inside without pause. “Feel that? How deep I am? This greedy hole is sucking me in like it was made for me,” he growled, voice strained with pleasure as he set a punishing pace. The squelching sounds were even louder now, wet and rhythmic, accompanying every snap of his hips. You pushed back to meet him, the pleasure building again almost immediately, your body still sensitive from the first orgasm but craving more.

He kept you there on all fours for long, exhaustive minutes, switching between fast, punishing thrusts that rocked your entire body forward and slower, grinding movements that let you feel every inch of the sinuous cock twisting and flexing inside. The ridges dragged slowly on the out-strokes, catching and stimulating every nerve, before he slammed back in hard enough to make your arms tremble. Slime poured out around him in thick, messy rivulets, coating your skin, dripping down your thighs in warm streams, making the bed beneath you slick and ruined. You came a second time like that, shaking violently beneath him as pleasure crashed over you in waves, your walls clamping down hard around his pistoning length. Your arms gave out and you collapsed forward onto your elbows, but he just followed you down, keeping the angle perfect and pounding even harder, driving you into the mattress with each thrust.

“That’s it…squeeze me just like that. Let me feel how much your greedy hole needs this cock,” he hissed against your ear, biting down on your shoulder as another orgasm built right on the heels of the last. The overstimulation made everything feel electric, every ridge and flex pulling more helpless moans from you until you came again, clenching and fluttering wildly around his relentless shaft. He didn't stop, didn't give you time to recover, just kept fucking you through it, the pace turning into a steady, driving rhythm that drew out every pulse of pleasure until you were a trembling, moaning mess, body slick with sweat and slime.

The pattern continued like this for what felt like hours in that position alone, him alternating speeds, depths, and angles, always keeping you filled and stimulated. He would pull almost all the way out, letting the head tease your entrance with shallow, swirling thrusts that spread more slime, only to drive back in with a powerful snap that made you cry out. His hand under you never stopped stroking, matching the rhythm, building you up again and again. Each orgasm left you more sensitive, the pleasure bordering on too much, yet he coaxed more from you, his voice a constant stream of filthy praise and commands. “Look at you, taking every inch like a good pet. So wet, so messy for me. I could fuck you like this all night.”

Only when you were utterly spent in that pose, body quivering and unable to hold yourself up any longer, did he pull out and drag you on top of him. Straddling him facing forward, you sank down onto his slick length with a long, shuddering gasp. The thick, ridged cock stretched you open again as gravity helped you take every inch, the flexible length curling upward inside you the moment you bottomed out. Harlequin gripped your hips immediately, claws digging in possessively as he yanked you down hard while thrusting up to meet you. The pace turned brutal once more, he forced you to ride him at breakneck speed, hips snapping upward powerfully, controlling the entire rhythm.

The ridges dragged intensely along your walls with every bounce, slime squelching loudly between your bodies, coating your joined skin in a constant mess. His free hand spanked your ass in sharp, stinging slaps that urged you faster, the impacts sending jolts of heat straight to where you were joined, making your inner muscles clench tighter around him. “Ride me properly, little star. Bounce on my cock like you mean it,” he commanded, voice rough and strained with pleasure. You obeyed as best you could, thighs burning with effort as you rose and fell on the thick length, each downward slam driving him impossibly deep. The flexible shaft curled upward to grind against new spots inside you with every motion, twisting and pulsing in ways that kept the stimulation constant and devastating.

He kept yanking you down to meet his upward thrusts, claws pricking your skin, the pain mixing perfectly with the pleasure. The constant stimulation built slowly but relentlessly, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until it snapped. You came hard on his cock, walls fluttering and squeezing as the orgasm washed over you in long, shuddering waves. Harlequin groaned loudly but didn’t let you slow, forcing you to keep bouncing through it, dragging the climax out until your legs shook uncontrollably, every muscle trembling with the effort. He talked you through it the whole time, voice low and filthy: “Yes, just like that. Come all over me again. I want to feel you fall apart.”

He spun you around on his cock without pulling out, the twisting motion making the ridged length rub deliciously against every inch of your insides, sending fresh sparks of overstimulation through you. Now facing away in reverse, he immediately started thrusting up violently. His hands guided your hips, slamming you down repeatedly onto his pistoning shaft. The new angle let the sinuous cock curl even more effectively, hitting devastating depths with every fast bounce, the ridges catching and dragging in ways that made your toes curl. He reached around to stroke you roughly again, fingers slick with slime, working you in time with the brutal rhythm. Pleasure bordered on overwhelming as he forced you to ride through peak after peak. You came again, and then once more, each orgasm leaving you more sensitive, more desperate, body trembling as slime and fluids dripped messily down his length and thighs.

This reverse ride went on and on, his stamina seemingly endless. He would slow for periods of deep, grinding circles where you could feel every ridge and flex in exquisite detail, then suddenly accelerate into jackhammer thrusts that made your whole body jolt. The sounds were constant, wet squelches, the slap of skin, his bells jingling, your mixed moans and gasps filling the room. His hands roamed, one keeping you pinned down onto him, the other exploring, pinching, slapping, keeping you right on the edge. Every time you started to flag, he spanked you harder or thrust up sharper, demanding more. “Don’t you dare stop. Keep fucking yourself on me until you can’t anymore.”

The night continued like this through endless positions, each one drawn out into exhaustive, multi-orgasmic marathons. In spooning on your sides, he hooked your leg high over his hip and slid back in deep, snapping his hips quickly while staying pressed close, bodies aligned perfectly. The intimacy let him bite and suck along your neck and shoulder for long minutes, his cock flexing and thrusting rapidly inside while slime eased every rough stroke. The angle allowed for constant, grinding stimulation against your front wall, the ridges working in tandem with his hand stroking you. You came twice in quick succession here, the position perfect for building slow, rolling waves that refused to let the pleasure fade, each one blending into the next until you were whimpering continuously.

When he pulled you into a sitting position facing him, legs wrapped tight around his waist, the closeness intensified everything. You rocked together, him thrusting upward with force while holding you flush against his body, chests pressed, breaths mingling. Every time you hugged him mid-thrust, arms locking around his neck, soft moans breathed against his skin, he groaned in that same mix of confusion and raw pleasure, hips stuttering before he fucked you harder, deeper, chasing the feeling. The sinuous cock writhed and curled inside, ridges dragging relentlessly as slime made everything slippery and intense. Orgasms came slower here but hit harder, drawn-out waves that left you clinging to him helplessly, body shuddering as he kept the deep, rocking rhythm going for what felt like forever, grinding and thrusting in a steady, possessive dance.

Standing and bent over the edge of the bed, he took you with powerful, standing thrusts that lifted you onto your feet, his hands gripping your hips like vices. The piledriver had you folded nearly in half for an eternity, his powerful downward slams battering your deepest spots while slime gushed out around his shaft with every impact, soaking everything. The chair creaked under the force as he sat and bounced you roughly on his lap, hand around your throat applying just enough pressure to make your head spin deliciously while the other spanked in rhythm, each slap echoing with the wet sounds of your bodies meeting.

He lifted you suspended in his arms, your legs wrapped around him as he fucked you standing in the middle of the room, using his strength to bounce you on his cock like you were weightless. The gravity and his upward thrusts combined to drive him impossibly deep, the flexible length curling and twisting with every motion, ridges stimulating without mercy. You lost count of the orgasms here, your body limp and pliant in his hold as he railed you through wave after wave, slime dripping down his legs and yours in messy trails.

On the edge of the bed with your legs raised high over his shoulders, he leaned in close, folding you and pounding downward, the angle hitting spots that made you see white. Each thrust was a full-body experience, the slime ensuring smooth, relentless slides while the ridges caught and dragged, building pressure that exploded into shattering climaxes one after another. He kept going long after you thought you couldn't take more, whispering filthy encouragements, biting marks into your skin, his own pleasure building but held back as he focused on wringing every last drop from you.

By the time exhaustion finally began to creep in, the bed was utterly ruined, sheets soaked through with slime, sweat, and your combined releases, the air thick with the scent of sex. Harlequin’s releases, when they finally came, were long and pulsing, flooding you with heat as his cock flexed and pumped deep inside, the sinuous length throbbing and spilling in thick, endless spurts that overflowed around him. Yet even then he stayed buried, grinding lazily, unwilling to pull away completely, keeping you full and connected.

You hugged him again in the quiet moments between rounds, and each time his reaction grew softer, more accepting. “Dangerous little star,” he whispered hoarsely, arms eventually wrapping back around you. “Keep doing that and I won’t let you go.”

The night blurred into more extended rounds, slow grinding, building back to fast, punishing thrusts, affection pulling unexpected groans from him every single time. He would start "gentle(ish)", sliding in slow and letting you adjust, only to build into the same relentless pace, fucking you through countless more peaks. In every position, the details repeated in exhaustive variety the way his cock twisted and curled to find new angles, the constant wet squelches growing filthier as more slime and fluids mixed, the sting of claws and bites heightening every sensation, the way your body responded with clenching, fluttering, squirting messes that only made him laugh and fuck harder.

Hours upon hours passed in this haze of pleasure. He took you against the wall, your back pressed to cool surface as he held you up and thrust upward, gravity aiding the deep penetration. Then, on the floor, mats and rugs provide little cushion as he rails you from behind again, the hard surface making every impact sharper. Back on the bed for missionary variations, legs over his shoulders, then spread wide, then one leg hooked as he ground slow and deep, drawing out the sensations until you were sobbing with overstimulation and ecstasy.

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Author's Note: "Sorry if the AU fanfic of him is short on my on-going work. I apologize... please accept this as my apology gift."

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• The Freak Circus AU Harlequin x Reader x Pierrot

• Smut & Fluff Fanfic

• Word Count: 4k+

Ruined Desires - Chapter 8

Previous Chapter

The three of you pressed onward through twisting corridors where the glowing flowers grew sparser and shadows stretched longer. You felt a growing unease as if unseen eyes watched from every reflective surface. Harlequin kept you close to his tentacles, offering support while Pierrot communicated through careful gestures, pointing out safe paths. The air carried a new presence, something commanding and proud that made the forest itself seem to hold its breath. You paused at a grand archway carved with intricate masks and tickets, feeling a pull toward the chamber beyond. Something in the inscriptions hinted at a central figure at the heart of the circus, a leader who pulled strings from afar. As you stepped through the arch, a figure materialized in the centre of the room as if emerging from the very shadows themselves.

Jester stood there with his distinctive appearance. You felt an instinctive wariness upon seeing him. Something in the way he appeared so suddenly the perfect poise and the way his masked gaze seemed to dissect you made trust impossible. From the rumours you've heard He was described as the dominating force in the circus, a calm collected leader yet his presence carried an undercurrent of pride that felt dangerous. The way he referred to humans as strays in passing comments during your brief initial exchange sent chills down your spine. This was no benevolent guide. Jester was someone who pulled strings from the center of everything. You sensed you should not trust him fully despite his calm demeanor.

The meeting unfolded with careful words from Jester. "Welcome. stray scholar" he said, his voice smooth and commanding. "I have been watching your progress through my domain. You have met my wayward performers. Tell me what truths you seek in these ruins." You replied carefully "I seek knowledge about the Laughing Veil and the disappeared scholars. Nothing more." Jester tilted his head slightly, his masked smile widening a fraction. "Knowledge is a dangerous thing for humans like you. Strays who wander too deep often find themselves bound to the circus in ways they cannot escape. Harlequin has already marked you well I see." Harlequin hissed beside you "She is mine Jester. Do not test me." Pierrot made protective gestures stepping closer silently. Jester chuckled softly "Always so possessive of my jester. But the heart of the circus decides what belongs where." The conversation continued with Jester asking probing questions about your research and your loneliness making you feel exposed. "You carry a void scholar. The circus can fill such voids but the price is eternal." His tone slowly shifted becoming more dangerous as he stepped closer to his presence feeling oppressive. "Humans are so fragile. So heartless. Yet you intrigue me. Perhaps I should keep you closer to study." The words carried a subtle threat that made your skin prickle. Something in his words or your response clicked in his mind. His slit eyes narrowed behind the mask and his posture stiffened. He was not pleased. "Enough for now" he said, excusing himself with a theatrical bow. "I have matters to attend to. We will speak again. stray scholar. I know where to find you." Jester withdrewleaving the three of you alone once more. The air felt heavier in his absence as if his presence had altered the ruins themselves.

Harlequin immediately took advantage of the moment when Pierrot turned to examine a nearby carving. He snatched you quickly with his tentacles pulling you into a hidden side passage away from view. "Now that the masked fool is gone I have you all to myself little scholar" he growled pinning you against the wall in the private alcove. "Do not let him get in your head. You are mine." His tentacles spread your limbs as he thrust inside you roughly. "Fuck- Harlequin not here" you cursed but ofcourse. He pulled you against him in a secluded alcove, his tentacles wrapping around your limbs and spreading you open with rough hunger. "Time to remind you who claims you deepest little scholar," he growled. His monstrous cock thrust inside you in one savage stroke the thick ridged length stretching your walls wide. The smaller tendrils along his shaft writhed independently stroking and milking your sensitive spots from every angle. You cried out biting down on his shoulder as he pounded into you with a punishing force. The altar-like stone beneath you creaked under the intensity of his thrusts. Lubricant and your arousal sprayed messily with every brutal slam, his heavy balls slapping against you loudly. Harlequin set a relentless pace, his hips snapping forward with powerful strokes that rearranged your insides. The visible bulge in your belly rose and fell with each thrust showing exactly how deep he buried himself. Your nails dug into his back as you bit harder drawing iridescent blood that only fueled his lust. "Fuck yes bite me harder scholar. Show me how much you hate how good this feels" he snarled continuing the rough doggy style pounding from behind on his knees while you stayed on all fours. His cock drove deep with each thrust the ridges catching and dragging along your inner walls in a way that made your eyes roll back. Tentacles held your hips steady preventing any escape as he slammed forward again and again. "You are so wet for me even when you curse me" he taunted one tentacle reaching under to slap your clit lightly. You cursed loudly "You fucking monster get out of me" but your body pushed back against him betraying your words. The position allowed him to grind and thrust in circles hitting every sensitive spot until you came hard screaming around another bite to his arm. He kept the doggy style going for many minutes varying speed and depth while whispering filthy encouragement. "Feel how deep I am scholar. This is what you get for teasing me all day."

Harlequin kept you in that doggy style position for a long time, his hands gripping your hips as he slammed forward. "Your cunt is so tight even after everything. It still fights me but it wants more" he taunted between thrusts. Tentacles wrapped around your waist to pull you back onto him harder. You cursed him through moans, your body pushing back despite the defiance. The position allowed deep penetration with every stroke the ridges dragging perfectly against your inner walls. Harlequin reached under to rub your clit roughly with a tentacle tip bringing you to a screaming orgasm. "That is it cum for me. Soak my cock like the greedy scholar you are" he laughed, not slowing for a second. "I hate you" you gasped between moans but your walls clenched tighter around him.

He flipped you into cowgirl position slamming you down onto him repeatedly with his sharp hands guiding your hips. "Ride me scholar. Show me how much you need this" he commanded. You straddled and rode on top facing him, your hands planted on his chest as you bounced. The sensitive green tentacles on his back stroked your back ass and thighs teasing your clit and nipples relentlessly. "Harder. Take every inch" he groaned, thrusting up to meet you. You cursed "Fuck you and your monster cock" but kept riding faster chasing the pleasure. Orgasms crashed over you one after another your walls milking him as he pumped thick loads deep inside swelling your belly noticeably. "Look at that belly full of my cum. You look so good marked by me" he praised slapping your ass lightly. "You are going to break me you bastard" you moaned riding through the waves.

He shifted you into reverse cowgirl next making you straddle and ride facing away toward his feet. "Turn around. Let me watch that ass bounce" he ordered. The new angle let his ridges drag along your front wall while tentacles reached around to pinch and tug your nipples and rub your clit in tight circles. You bit your lip grinding back against him as he slapped your ass lightly. "Good girl. Ride your monster" he grunt at the position allowing him to thrust up powerfully. "Damn you Harlequin" you cursed as another orgasm hit you hard. He kept you there for a long time enjoying the view and the way your body moved on him. "Your ass looks perfect taking me like this" he said with a dark laugh.

Harlequin laid you on your sides in spooning position both of you lying with you in front and him behind for easy entry. "Relax into it scholar. Feel every ridge" he murmured thrusting slowly at first then building speed. One tentacle lifted your leg higher for deeper access. "You take me so well like this. So full and wet" he whispered, biting your neck. You moaned and cursed "Stop teasing and fuck me properly you bastard" pushing back against him. The spooning allowed close contact with his chest against your back as he filled you completely. "I love how you clench when you curse me" he teased.

He moved you into lotus position sitting face to face with your legs wrapped around each other as you rocked gently. "Look at me while I fill you," he said, his eyes glowing. The intimate position allowed slow deep grinding where he could kiss and bite your lips. "Your body knows it belongs to me" he groaned as you rocked together. "I hate how good you feel" you cursed between kisses. The lotus position felt almost tender compared to others but Harlequin still made it intense with deep rolls of his hips. "Tell me you need it, scholar" he demanded. "Fuck you I do not" you lied moaning louder.

Harlequin stood you up for standing doggy bending you over while he entered from behind. "Bend for me. Take it standing like my strong scholar" he commanded, pounding hard. The position used gravity for deeper thrusts. "So deep. Feel me in your belly" he taunted. You braced against the wall cursing "Deeper you freak. Make it hurt" as he complied with powerful slams. "You are so tight like this" he groaned, keeping the rhythm punishing.

He tried wheelbarrow next with you on your hands while he held your legs up and entered from behind. "Hold steady. I have you" he said, thrusting powerfully. The angle was intense, making you moan loudly. "Such a flexible toy for me" he laughed. You cursed through the pleasure "Do not drop me you idiot" but trusted his hold as he drove deep. The wheelbarrow position left you completely at his mercy with every thrust hitting new angles.

Harlequin laid you on your back at the edge for butterfly position with your legs raised as he stood and thrust. "Legs up scholar. Let me see everything" he ordered the standing thrusts hitting new depths. "So open for me. Perfect" he praised. You screamed "Harder damn it" as he delivered long powerful strokes. "Beg for it" he teased. "Never" you cursed but your body betrayed you with another climax.

He had you squat on top in amazon position while he lay back with legs raised. "Squat and ride. Use me" he challenged. You moved on him as he thrust up. "Deeper. Milk me" he begged in his rough way. "Fuck yes" you cursed riding faster. The amazon position gave you control that you used to grind down hard.

Harlequin pressed you into prone bone with you lying flat on your stomach while he lay on top entering from behind. "Flat for me. Take my weight" he let out grunts, grinding deep. The pressure was overwhelming. "Feel how full you are," he said. You moaned "Too much you monster" but arched for more. "You love being crushed under me" he whispered.

He intertwined your legs in scissors position both on your sides facing each other as he entered from the side. "Legs like this. Close and tight" he murmured thrusting sideways. "Perfect fit" he groaned. You cursed "Do not stop" as pleasure built. The scissors allowed intimate eye contact as he rocked against you.

Harlequin lifted you into a pile driver with you on your back legs raised over your head as he squatted and thrust down. "Folded for deep breeding" he snarled, pounding downward. "Take it all," he commanded. You screamed "Yes fuck me deeper" despite yourself. The pile driver made every thrust feel impossibly deep.

He sat on a stone outcrop for the chair position while you straddled facing him. "Sit on my cock scholar. Ride your throne" he said, guiding you down. The position allowed intimate eye contact. "Bounce for me" he ordered. You did so cursing "You are ruining me" with every bounce. "Good. Ruin yourself on me" he replied.

Harlequin shifted to cat position a missionary variation where he moved upward for better friction while you lay on your back. "Feel the angle. Grind against me" he instructed, rubbing perfectly. "Right there you bastard" you cursed, grinding back. The cat position hit a spot that made your toes curl.

He bent one of your legs up in pretzel position while kneeling between your legs. "One leg up. Open wider" he said, thrusting deep. "So flexible. So mine" he praised. You moaned "Do not hold back". The pretzel allowed him to lean in close and kiss you roughly.

Harlequin had you on your side at the edge for corkscrew position with one leg down while he stood and entered. "Twisted for me. Feel the twist" he groaned. The unique angle made you curse loudly "What the fuck is that spot". He kept the corkscrew going with steady powerful strokes.

You lifted your hips into bridge position while he knelt between your legs. "Bridge for deeper entry. Hold it" he commanded, thrusting upward. "Do not let me drop" you warned through pleasure. The bridge position made every thrust feel elevated and intense.

Harlequin pulled your legs all the way back in seashell position for deep entry as he thrust. "Legs to your head. So deep now" he growled. You screamed "Fill me completely you freak". The seashell allowed maximum depth and closeness.

He placed your legs straight up on his shoulders in valedictorian position. "Shoulders. Maximum depth" he said pounding. "Yes like that" you cursed. The valedictorian made you feel completely folded and claimed.

You leaned back on your hands in the crab position with legs extended forward. "Crab walk on my cock. Show me balance" he taunted. You moved, cursing "This is insane but do not stop". The crab position lets you control some movement while he thrust up.

Finally he held you in a dancer position standing face to face as you lifted one leg while he supported and entered. "Dance with me, scholar. One leg up" he whispered, thrusting steadily. "You are going to break me" you cursed as another orgasm hit. The dancer position felt almost romantic but Harlequin made it rough with deep powerful thrusts.

The rough claiming covered all these positions with long detailed thrusts dialogues and sensations. Harlequin filled you repeatedly with his cum. "You are mine. Every position. Every moan." You cursed and felt it all, your body completely spent by the end.

After the intense encounter Harlequin held you through the aftershocks whispering possessive words. "You are mine scholar. No one else gets to have you like this." You leaned against him exhausted "You are impossible Harlequin." He chuckled softly, helping you adjust your clothes. "Stay close. The masked one is too unpredictable."

Pierrot eventually found you again after searching the area, his gestures showing clear concern and relief when he saw you. He made quick protective motions toward Harlequin then turned to you with gentle gestures asking if you were okay. When Harlequin stepped away briefly to scout ahead Pierrot pulled you into a quiet corner alone. His whisper emerged soft and yearning. "My lady, I was worried when you disappeared. Did he hurt you too much?" His hands gently checked your marks with tender care. "Please let me soothe you. I beg for the chance to mend what he took.”

You leaned back against the cool stone wall, your body still trembling from the intense encounter with Harlequin. Every muscle ached and your core felt sore and overly sensitive. "No Pierrot. I am too tired. You are probably just as rough as he is. I cannot take more right now" you refused your voice hoarse and exhausted. You tried to step away but Pierrot gently caught your hand, his hollow eyes filled with deep yearning.

"My lady please" he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "I am not like him. I beg you to let me show you. I will be so gentle. I only want to comfort you and heal the ache he left. Please, my lady. I have waited so long for someone kind like you. Do not turn me away." His gloved hands trembled slightly as he held yours, his painted face conveying pure desperation and longing. He knelt slowly before you, his head bowed in supplication. "I beg on my knees, my lady. Let me prove I can be different. Just a little. I will stop the moment you say. I promise with all that I am."

You hesitated, your body screaming for rest but his begging and the genuine sorrow in his whisper tugged at something deep inside you. "Pierrot, I am exhausted. I do not think I can" you said softly. He looked up , pleading. "My lady just let me hold you first. Let me kiss the marks. I beg you. I need to show you tenderness. Please give me this chance. I will be slow. So slow. You will not regret it my lady." His voice cracked with yearning as he pressed soft kisses to your knuckles. "I have been silent for centuries. Let me speak my heart to you now. Please."

The repeated begging and the raw emotion in his whisper finally broke your resistance. "Fine. But be gentle. I am serious, Pierrot. I am too tired for anything rough" you sighed, giving in. Pierrot rose slowly, his movements careful and reverent. "Thank you, my lady. I will cherish this. I promise." He pulled you into a soft embrace, his arms wrapping around you with utmost care avoiding any pressure on your sore spots. His hands stroked your back in slow soothing circles as he whispered "You are safe with me my lady. Let me take care of you."

He guided you to a soft patch of moss in the corner lowering you gently onto it. "Lie back my lady. I will do everything." His fingers traced your body with feather light touches exploring the marks left by Harlequin. "These are from him. I will kiss them better." He leaned down pressing the softest pecks to every bruise and bite mark his lips lingering with tender devotion. Each kiss was a gentle press of his lips followed by a soft exhale against your skin. "My lady you are so strong yet so tired. Let me ease you." He buried his face in your neck for a long moment breathing you in his painted lips brushing soft kisses along the column of your throat. "You smell like the forest and something uniquely you. I beg to stay here a little longer." His whispers continued as he alternated between soft pecks and burying his face deeper into your neck nuzzling gently.

Pierrot spent what felt like an eternity just kissing and caressing your skin, his hands never rushing. He placed soft pecks along your collarbone then buried his face in the crook of your neck again kissing the sensitive skin there repeatedly. "My lady, your skin is so warm. Let me worship every inch. I beg you." When he finally positioned himself between your legs he paused looking up at you. "May I my lady? I beg for permission to enter you slowly."

You nodded weakly and Pierrot entered you with excruciating slowness inch by inch. "Oh my lady you feel like heaven. So warm. So perfect" he whispered, his voice shaking with emotion. He stayed completely still once fully inside letting you adjust. "Tell me if it is too much. I beg you to be honest. I will wait as long as you need." The gentle rocking began only when you relaxed his movements shallow and slow. "Like this my lady? Is it good?" he asked, constantly checking on you. You moaned softly "It is okay Pierrot. Just slow." He continued with deep reverence "Thank you my lady. I will stay gentle for you. I beg to make you feel cherished."

Pierrot took his time with every thrust deliberate and caring. When your breath hitched he immediately paused "My lady are you out of breath? I will stop. Please rest." He held still, kissing your forehead and stroking your hair until you caught your breath. "I am sorry if I pushed. I only want your pleasure. Tell me when you are ready again. I beg you." The breaks were frequent and caring whenever you showed any sign of fatigue. During those pauses he whispered endlessly "My lady you are the kindest soul I have met in centuries. Let me worship you like this. I beg for more time inside you." His cock stayed buried deep during the breaks, the gentle fullness comforting rather than overwhelming. He would bury his face in your neck again, placing soft pecks and nuzzling while you rested. "Your neck is my favorite place my lady. So soft. So warm. I beg to stay here forever."

When you signaled you were ready he resumed with the same slow rocking. "Feel me, my lady. I am here for you" he whispered. The sex stretched for a very long time with Pierrot begging for your pleasure checking on you constantly and taking breaks whenever you needed. "My lady, your moans are the most beautiful sound. Please let me hear more. I beg you." He brought you to several soft climaxes, each one celebrated with tender kisses and whispers of gratitude. "Thank you for trusting me, my lady. I will never forget this." Between climaxes he would bury his face in your neck again kissing softly and whispering "My lady let me stay connected to you. I beg for this closeness."

His own release came only after many cycles of gentle movement and breaks his body trembling as he filled you with warm seed. "My lady, I am yours. Thank you for allowing me this" he whispered, collapsing beside you and pulling you into his arms. Even then he did not pull out immediately. "Let me stay inside you my lady. Just a little longer. I beg you." He continued placing soft pecks on your lips, cheeks and your neck while holding you close.

After a long period of quiet closeness Pierrot finally moved. "My lady, you need cleaning and rest. Let me take care of you." He gently pulled out and used soft cloths from his attire dampened with clean water from a nearby spring to wipe you softly. His touches were feather light and full of care as he cleaned every trace of the encounters from your skin. "I beg your forgiveness for any discomfort my lady. You are precious to me." He placed more soft pecks on your cleaned skin before wrapping you in a warm cloak like fabric. "Sleep now my lady. I will watch over you. I promise." He lay beside you pulling you against his chest and burying his face in your neck one last time with soft kisses. "Rest well my lady. You have given me more than I deserve."

The gentle scene with Pierrot was filled with soft pecks burying his face in your neck, constant kissing, caring breaks and tender cleaning before sleep. It stretched extensively with emotional depth and yearning making the entire encounter over ten thousand words of pure gentle intimacy. He repeated the cycles of gentle rocking soft kisses and breaks many times over ensuring you felt completely cherished and rested. His whispers never stopped "My lady you are my light. I beg to stay with you always." The scene continued with more tender moments of closeness until you fell into a deep peaceful sleep in his arms.

The silence after the intimate moments left you wondering what new dangers awaited in the deeper parts of the ruins and how the growing triangle of desires would test all of you in the chapters ahead.

Next Chapter

Special Mention/Taglist

@that-dumb-bitch and @emsscript? (Can't tag)

Hm.. lohen.. yum yum..

• The Freak Circus Harlequin AU x Reader x Pierrot

• Slight smut + Fluff Fanfic

• Word Count: 2600+

Ruined Desires - Chapter 7

Previous Chapter

The tension in the chamber hung heavy like a living thing wrapping around the three of you. The glowing flowers continued their erratic pulsing casting shifting patterns across the obsidian mirrors and ancient stone walls. Your body still carried the marks and fullness from Harlequins earlier claiming every movement sending reminders through your sore muscles and sensitive core. Harlequin stood protectively close, his tentacles coiled around your waist and thigh while Pierrot remained at a careful distance, his hollow eyes fixed on you with that quiet sorrowful intensity. The air felt charged with centuries of unresolved pain and desire making your scholarly instincts war with the exhaustion and thrill coursing through you. The weight of their shared history pressed down upon your shoulders, the loneliness that had driven you into these ruins now reflected back in their fractured bond with Columbina and the desperate choices that had shaped them.

Harlequin broke the silence first, his voice carrying that familiar theatrical edge. "This changes nothing Pale Fool. She is marked by laughter and pleasure. The forest has already been chosen."

Pierrot did not speak aloud. Instead he tilted his head slowly in a deliberate gesture, one gloved hand rising to press lightly against his painted chest then extending toward you in a gentle open palm offering. His mournful expression softened further as if pleading for understanding without words. The movement was graceful and measured, conveying patience and a deep longing that needed no voice. You interpreted it as an invitation, a promise of the comfort he had whispered about earlier. Harlequin noticed and his tentacles tightened possessively in response to one thick appendage stroking along your inner thigh in a clear reminder of his claim. The touch remained light keeping the sensations minimal yet present enough to stir faint heat in your exhausted body.

You shifted slightly between them, your legs still unsteady from the previous hours. "This is not some prize to be fought over. I came here for knowledge not to be claimed by immortal circus entities with baggage older than most civilizations." Your voice came out hoarse but steady enough reflecting the defiance that had kept you going through everything so far. Deep down the loneliness that had driven your research echoed with their shared tragedy making you feel strangely connected to this fractured history. Your mind wandered to the expedition logs and half forgotten texts that had first mentioned the troupe the way their story had pulled at your own hidden voids.

Harlequin laughed softly, his green eyes sparkling with wicked amusement. "Yet here you stand little scholar leaking my essence and biting back at every turn. The ruins do not release what they desire so easily." One of his sensitive green tentacles brushed higher teasing your folds through your clothing in a slow deliberate motion that sent a reluctant spark of heat through your core. The touch remained light possessive but not demanding a continuation of the afterglow rather than new intensity. His muscular arm stayed wrapped around your waist providing steady support as you moved forward together.

Pierrot gestured again this time with both hands moving in a slow calming motion palms down as if to soothe the air itself. He pointed toward a nearby corridor then to you and finally made a small bowing motion, his head dipping in respect. The gestures suggested guidance a path forward where he could offer solace without force. His hollow eyes met yours directly conveying gentleness and a quiet hope that you might allow him closer when the moment permitted. The silent communication drew your academic curiosity making you wonder about the layers of meaning behind each elegant movement shaped by centuries of enforced silence.

The group moved forward together with Harlequin keeping you tucked against his muscular side while Pierrot followed at a respectful distance. The connected chambers opened into a long gallery lined with more mirrors and intricate carvings depicting the circus troupe in happier times before the chains and starvation. You paused frequently to document what you could, your notebook balanced in trembling hands as you sketched motifs of laughter masks, sorrowful expressions and a central female figure Columbina who appeared in many scenes with both Harlequin and Pierrot. The weight of their backstory pressed on you the desperate survival choices, the enforced silence, the love lost to tragedy. Your own past betrayals in the academic world and secret loneliness made the parallels uncomfortably real. Page after page filled with detailed notes on recurring symbols, the way laughter intertwined with sorrow and how the forest seemed to feed on both emotions binding souls in eternal performance.

Harlequin continued speaking, filling the space with his dramatic explanations. "The Laughing Veil sustains through joy and ecstasy little scholar. What Pierrot offers is but a shadow, a lingering melancholy that binds through regret rather than bliss." His hand roamed possessively over your hip squeezing lightly while a tentacle slipped under your shirt to trace slow circles on your bare skin. The contact kept your body aware and sensitive but stayed minimal, a teasing reminder rather than escalation. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he added more theatrical flourishes to his tales of the troupe's early days.

Pierrot responded only with gestures when Harlequin glanced his way. He raised one hand to his lips in a shushing motion then pointed to a mirror that showed a fragmented image of Columbina smiling between the two figures. His other hand made a heart shape then broke it apart conveying the pain of loss. The silent communication felt intimate in its own way drawing your curiosity even as Harlequin dominated the physical space. At times Pierrot would point out subtle details in the carvings that you might have missed his gloved finger tracing patterns in the air to highlight connections between symbols.

Hours seemed to pass in this manner exploring deeper into the ruins where the carvings grew more personal and the glowing flowers took on softer hues. Your body gradually regained some strength though the constant leaks and aches kept you mindful of Harlequins earlier thorough claims. At one point you stopped at a carved altar similar to the first but smaller and adorned with pale flowers instead of vibrant ones. Exhaustion pulled at you making your steps falter. The air here carried a faint scent of aged herbs and spices hinting at old living quarters nearby.

Harlequin supported you easily with his strong arms wrapping around your waist. "Rest if you need it, scholar. I can carry you while we uncover more secrets." His tone held genuine concern beneath the playfulness and one tentacle gently massaged your lower back easing some of the soreness. The light touch sent faint ripples of sensation through you but nothing overwhelming kept the moment focused on recovery and discovery.

Pierrot hung back during this, his gestures becoming more subdued. He made a cradling motion with his arms then pointed to a shadowed alcove suggesting a quieter spot. His eyes lingered on you with that patient hunger tempered by care never pushing while Harlequin remained present. Later when the path opened into what appeared to be remnants of an old preparation area with stone hearths and preserved ingredients from the forest's bounty, Pierrot gestured more animatedly. He mimed stirring a pot then pointed to you and made an offering motion with both hands palms up. The gestures clearly conveyed an offer to prepare food to restore your strength, a skill he had honed during the troupe's long years of survival.

Harlequin noticed and chuckled. "The Pale Fool thinks he can win you with simple comforts. But my pleasures run deeper little scholars."

The exploration continued with renewed tension. You documented extensively filling pages with observations about the mirrors that seemed to hold living memories and the way the forest responded to the presence of both entities. Harlequin provided commentary laced with his playful filth while Pierrot communicated through elegant gestures pointing out hidden details in carvings or offering calming motions when your exhaustion showed. At times when Harlequin turned away Pierrot would catch your eye and make small private signals a heart shape a gentle wave a mime of holding something fragile conveying his ongoing offer of comfort and now his willingness to cook a meal tailored to ease your weariness.

Eventually the path split into narrower passages. Harlequin insisted on scouting ahead briefly leaving you momentarily alone with Pierrot in a small mirrored antechamber. The moment the jester like figure disappeared around the corner the air shifted cooler and quieter. Pierrot turned fully toward you, his masked face softening as he stepped closer.

Now alone his whisper emerged soft and private meant only for your ears. "My lady at last. I have waited through the laughter to offer this." His gloved hand reached out slowly brushing a strand of hair from your face with a feather light touch. "You seem kind for a human brave in your pursuit of truth. I would be gentle with you if you allow it. No demands only solace for the weariness he has left in your body. I know how to cook as well my lady. Simple nourishing meals from what the forest provides to restore your strength after such trials. If you allow me the chance I would prepare something warm and comforting just for you."

The whisper carried a soothing quality that eased the rawness in your throat and the deeper aches in your muscles. His presence felt like a cool balm contrasting Harlequins fiery intensity. You stood there caught in the moment, your scholarly mind noting every detail, the subtle sorrow in his hollow eyes, the careful way he maintained distance until invited closer. "This is all so much" you murmured back, your voice still hoarse. "Your history with Harlequin and Columbina, the choices made for survival. I want to understand not just be pulled between you. And a meal does sound appealing after everything."

Pierrot nodded his gestures, returning even in whispers to emphasize points. He traced a gentle circle on your arm conveying patience then placed a hand over his chest and extended it toward you symbolizing shared sorrow and potential comfort. "My lady, the silence rule binds me in public but here with you I can speak softly. You carry strength and kindness rare in these ruins. Let me show tenderness when the moment allows and yes I would cook for you my lady. A broth or stew to warm you from within." His words remained gentle, respectful , never demanding as his fingers lightly traced down to your hand, holding it with cool care. The contact sent a shiver through you different from the heat of earlier encounters more like a promise of rest amid the chaos. For those brief private minutes he continued to whisper softly about ingredients he could gather and simple recipes perfected over centuries offering this domestic gentleness as another layer of his care.

The brief privacy ended sooner than expected as Harlequins footsteps echoed back. Pierrot released your hand and stepped back resuming his silent gestures, a simple nod toward the path ahead as if nothing had passed between you. Harlequin reappeared his tentacles immediately seeking you out again wrapping around your form possessively. "All clear ahead little scholar. More carvings await and perhaps answers to your burning questions."

The exploration continued with renewed tension. You documented extensively filling pages with observations about the mirrors that seemed to hold living memories and the way the forest responded to the presence of both entities. Harlequin provided commentary laced with his playful filth while Pierrot communicated through elegant gestures pointing out hidden details in carvings or offering calming motions when your exhaustion showed. At times when Harlequin turned away Pierrot would catch your eye and make small private signals: a heart shape, a gentle wave, a mime of stirring a pot reminding you of his offer to cook. Your body remained a battlefield of sensations: the constant trickle of cum from earlier rounds, the bruises and bite marks, the lingering sensitivity that made every brush of fabric or tentacle noticeable. Harlequin kept his touches light during this phase , occasionally slipping between your legs to push his essence deeper in a possessive but slow manner or stroking your thighs to maintain connection without overwhelming you further. "Feel how well you took me" he would murmur occasionally "your body remembers even as your mind fights."

Pierrot never interrupted these moments with words but his gestures grew more protective when he witnessed them hands forming barriers or pointing to rest spots. The dynamic created a strange balance, the triangle pulling you in multiple directions emotionally and physically. In another private moment later when Harlequin scouted a different branch Pierrot whispered again. "My lady let me cook for you soon. Something gentle to soothe the marks he left. You deserve care beyond the storm."

Deeper in the ruins you discovered a grand hall with a central pool reflecting the starry ceiling above through some ancient magic. The water glowed faintly and carvings around it depicted the troupe finding solace in performance after their escape. You knelt carefully to examine the inscriptions, your hands tracing symbols despite the trembling in your limbs. Harlequin crouched beside you his presence warm and solid while Pierrot stood opposite gesturing toward specific etchings that highlighted Colombina's role as a unifying force before the tragedy. The pool itself seemed to hold faint echoes of music and movement adding to the immersive atmosphere.

"This changes how I see everything," you said quietly. "Surviving the loss of the rules that kept you together but also tore you apart."

Harlequin nodded his expression momentarily seriously. "Survival demands sacrifice, little scholar. I chose the troupe. Pierrot chose grief."

Pierrot gestured emphatically, shaking his head, then making a breaking motion followed by a reaching one as if trying to mend what was lost. When Harlequin looked away briefly he leaned in and whispered once more for your ears alone. "My lady there is more to the story than his laughter. I offer mending through quiet understanding if you seek it. And a meal prepared with care to give you strength for whatever comes next."

The hours stretched with more discoveries, emotional exchanges and the building pull of the triangle. Your mind cataloged it all the academic drive mixing with the personal resonance of their pain and your own hidden loneliness. The forest seemed to respond to the three of you together with the flowers blooming in patterns that blended green gold and pale silver. Additional private whispers from Pierrot emphasized his cooking offers describing how he could prepare forest berries into a soothing tea or roots into a hearty stew all done with the gentleness that defined his approach to you.

By the time you reached another resting chamber fatigue settled heavily. Harlequin pulled you into his lap, his tentacles providing support and light massage while Pierrot kept watch with silent gestures. Minimal new intimacies occurred: a slow tentacle stroke here, a gentle hand from Pierrot brushing your shoulder there when alone for a moment. The sensations remained light keeping the focus on the unfolding drama and exploration rather than escalation. Pierrot gestured toward an area with potential cooking supplies again reminding you silently of his willingness to provide nourishment.

The ruins had drawn the three of you into their heart and the bonds forming promised to change everything in ways none could yet fully predict. The triangle pulsed with life mirroring the ancient power around you.

none of you were getting out of these ruins unchanged.

Tick... tock..

Next Chapter

Author's Note: Advance Warning for the Next Chapter:

Please be advised that the following chapter contains explicit heavy sexual detailed content. Moreover, gentle sex scenes. after a few introductory scenes involving the meeting of a certain character.

-------------------------------------------------------

Special mention/Taglist

@that-dumb-bitch and @emsscript

Another Bot tumblr acc, and I was mentioned??

Planning to make short nsfw(smut+gore fanfic) of Lohen

After harlequin Au fanfic<3

-------------------------------------------------------

• The Freak Circus Harlequin AU x Reader

• Smut Fanfic

• Word Count: 2600+

Ruined Desires - Chapter 6

Previous Chapter

The vast circular chamber still hummed with residual energy from the hours of brutal claiming on the altar. The glowing flowers pulsed slower now as if the ruins themselves needed time to recover from witnessing Harlequins true form unleashed upon you. The air remained thick with that cloying sweet musk scent now mingled with the raw earthy tang of sweat cum and the faint metallic bite of blood from the many marks you had left on each other. Your body was a wreck. Legs trembling uncontrollably thighs slick with a constant trickle of his thick iridescent cum leaking from your swollen gaping pussy and ass. Your belly felt bloated from the sheer volume he had pumped into you a visible swell that made every breath feel heavy and full. Every muscle ached with a deep satisfying soreness that bordered on pain. Your voice was raw from screaming curses and involuntary moans throat hoarse and scratchy. Bite marks you had left on his shoulders, chest and neck stood out darkly against his skin matching the bruises hickeys tentacle imprints and reddened suction marks he had painted across your own body in a chaotic map of possession.

You managed one last weak bite to his pectoral teeth sinking in just enough to make him hiss with pleasure the sound rumbling through his powerful chest.

Harlequin chuckled the sound low and warm vibrating through his muscular chest into yours. One of his sensitive green tentacles stroked your sweat damp hair almost tenderly while another lazily circled your oversensitive clit keeping the aftershocks rolling through you in gentle teasing waves. Still fighting even now he murmured forked tongue licking a slow possessive stripe up your marked neck tasting the salt of your exertion. I think I am falling for that stubborn mouth of your little scholar. The way you bite and curse and still clench so greedily around me it is poetry.

Fuck you you rasped the words barely audible more breath than voice. Your body betrayed you again as a tentacle tip pushed gently back inside your cum filled cunt stirring the warm sticky mess and making you whimper despite yourself. The slow deliberate movement sent sparks of overstimulation through your exhausted nerves, a reminder of how thoroughly he had unraveled you on that altar.

He held you like that for a long time, tentacles tenderly massaging your sore muscles with surprising care while his hands roamed possessively over your marked skin tracing the curve of your hip, the swell of your cum filled belly, the bite marks on your breasts. The intimacy felt more dangerous than the rough fucking. You hated how safe his arms felt after he had just destroyed you and how the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear threatened to lull you into a false sense of security. The ruins seemed to breathe in time with you both the glowing flowers dimming and brightening softly as if savoring the aftermath. You could feel the ancient power of the place still humming beneath the stone as if the very walls had witnessed and approved of your claim.

Eventually he helped you sit up supporting your weight when your legs refused to cooperate, his strong arms and tentacles forming a cradle that was almost too gentle. The ruins have more to show you, he said , voice still rough from exertion that theatrical lilt creeping back in. Now that you have truly seen me, the forest will stop hiding its secrets. But only if you are ready to walk deeper into the heart of it all.

You glared but let him help you dress mostly because standing on your own was currently impossible. Your thighs shook violently with every step cum still leaking down your legs in warm rivulets that soaked into your clothes and made the fabric cling uncomfortably. Harlequins tentacles occasionally brushed against you to steady you sliding under your shirt or along your inner thigh but you knew better. He was simply enjoying the sight and feel of his claim, the slick evidence of it marking you as his. Each touch sent unwelcome jolts through your body mixing lingering pleasure with the ache of overuse.

The two of you ventured deeper into the connected chambers, the path illuminated by clusters of glowing flowers that seemed to activate in your presence. The carvings grew more vivid, almost moving in the pulsing light scenes of worshippers entwined with tentacle faces frozen in eternal bliss, bodies transformed and bound to the forest. You documented what you could though your hands trembled and your mind kept flashing back to the feeling of his ridged cock rearranging your insides, the tentacles holding you open and suspending the way he had laughed while you bit and cursed him through wave after wave of forced ecstasy. Your notebook entries were messier than usual ink smudged by sweat and unsteady fingers but you pressed on, driven by that obsessive academic hunger that had brought you here in the first place.

Harlequin stayed close to one arm around your waist, a tentacle curled possessively around your thigh under your clothes, the slick tip occasionally teasing your folds. He answered some of your questions in that playful purring tone of how the Laughing Veil fed on desire to sustain the forest drawing strength from every moan and climax how those who were changed became extensions of him forever bound yet blissfully content in their new forms. His explanations wove in theatrical flourishes dramatic gestures with his free hand and occasional leans in to whisper filthier details against your ear keeping your body on edge even as your mind worked furiously to piece together the larger puzzle.

But something felt off. The deeper you went the heavier the air became not just with musk but with a colder sorrowful undercurrent that prickled at the edges of your awareness. Shadows seemed longer, the pulsing lights dimmer in certain alcoves. You paused at one intricate wall panel depicting three figures in a tragic tableau, a a pale mournful fool and a gentle woman caught between them, your fingers tracing the lines as you tried to commit every detail to memory.

As you entered a smaller darker side chamber lined with cracked mirrors made of obsidian the air grew colder carrying a faint melancholic chime. One of the mirrors showed not your reflection but a different scene, a pale figure in classic black and white circus attire standing in the same ruins watching you with hollow hunger. The image lingered, eyes empty yet somehow piercing as if studying you with quiet longing.

You froze the name rising from your research notes like a ghost from old expedition logs. Pierrot.

Harlequins tentacles tensed around you coiling tighter in instinctive protectiveness. His playful demeanor cracked for a moment, green eyes narrowing with ancient resentment. You know the name.

You nodded slowly, voice hoarse from earlier exertions. From the old texts and expedition logs. The Pale Fool. The Tragic Mask. The sorrowful counterpart to the Laughing Veil. Records mentioned you two as opposites bound by shared trauma, a troupe enslaved by human starvation that drove desperate measures and a heartbreaking escape. Columbina, the one Pierrot loved. You poisoned her so the rest could eat and gain strength to break free. He never forgave you for taking her from him. Jester enforced the silence to keep the troupe alive.

Harlequins expression darkened the handsome features twisting with old pain beneath the faint shadowy remnants of his mask. He pulled you closer one tentacle stroking the bite mark you had left on his chest almost absently. Clever little scholar. Always digging too deep. Yes. Pierrot and I share history. Old wounds. A betrayal neither of us has forgiven. Jester the ringleader enforced the rules to keep the troupe alive including the silence rule on Pierrot. His voice is dangerous. It can stun, terrify or kill when he speaks publicly. That power led to disaster once. So he whispers only in private. Or not at all. The circus survived because of hard choices but survival left scars that never healed.

A cold hollow laugh echoed from the far side of the chamber low and sorrowful like wind through a cracked bell that carried centuries of grief. The remaining mirrors rippled like disturbed water. In one of them a pale figure with empty eyes and a mournful painted face appeared dressed in classic black and white circus attire, ruffled collar and all. He tilted his head slowly and the reflection seemed to step forward as if trying to break through the glass reaching toward you with a gloved hand.

The voice that came through was a whisper soft private meant only for your ears gentle and laced with a quiet reverence that felt utterly alien in these ruins. My lady you are not like the others who came before. Kind in your curiosity, brave in your defiance. This scholar carries both our colors now and I have waited long enough to offer comfort after the laughter fades.

Harlequin snarled and lashed out with a tentacle shattering the mirror into black shards that scattered across the stone floor like dark stars. But the damage was done. More mirrors along the corridor activated showing fragmented memories in haunting detail the circus troupe in rusty chains under harsh human lanterns the gnawing desperation of starvation that drove them to the edge Columbina's quiet acceptance and final moments Pierrots devastated scream silenced by Jester's command as Harlequin made the fatal choice to poison her so the others could eat and find the strength to break free. Jesters authority enforcing silence on Pierrot to protect the troupe from his deadly voice, a rule born of necessity but felt as betrayal.

You swallowed hard the weight of the tragedy settling over you like a heavy cloak. The scholarly part of your mind raced to connect dots, notes from disappeared explorers, half translated inscriptions, the personal loneliness that had driven you here mirroring the troupe's fractured bonds. So this whole rivalry is not just about me. It is also about Columbina. About survival. About rules keeping the circus together even after everything broke. Two sides of the same broken mask.

Harlequins grip tightened possessive and almost desperate. Pierrot offers sorrow disguised as comfort. I offer pleasure. Ecstasy. A place where you will never be lonely again little scholar. One tentacle slid between your legs again pushing some of his cum back inside you possessively the slow thrust making you gasp and clench around the intrusion despite your exhaustion. The sensation was gentler this time a claiming reminder rather than brutal conquest but it still sent heat flooding through your core. He held you there for a moment, tentacles exploring with lazy affection while his mouth found your neck again nipping lightly.

From the end of the corridor slow footsteps echoed measured deliberately accompanied by the faint sorrowful notes of a music box that seemed to play a melancholic counterpoint to the forest's pulsing heartbeat. A figure stepped into view tall pale dressed in classic black and white circus attire face painted in a perpetual expression of quiet tragedy. Pierrot. His movements were graceful yet heavy with unspoken sorrow hollow eyes fixed on you with an intensity that felt different from Harlequins chaotic hunger deeper more patient almost reverent.

He looked at you with those empty eyes that somehow still burned with possessive hunger but tempered by a gentleness that surprised you. His lips moved but no sound came out in public, only a faint whisper carried on the air meant only for your ears. My lady, you have already tasted the laughter. Let me show you what comfort feels like when the laughter fades. You seem kind to a human, brave and curious. I would be gentle with you if you allow it.

The rivalry that had simmered for centuries was now staring directly at you sore marked leaking cum from Harlequin body still trembling from the earlier claiming and caught between two ancient monsters who both wanted to claim you for their own twisted reasons tied to shared trauma betrayal and Colombina's death. The tension in the air thickened the glowing flowers flickering erratically as if caught between laughter and sorrow.

You laughed again exhausted, overwhelmed and darkly thrilled despite yourself the sound raw and shaky. Great. Two traumatized circus freaks fighting over who gets to ruin me next all because of what happened with Columbina and Jesters rules. This is exactly what my research needed. A front row seat to immortal drama.

Pierrot tilted his head, a faint sad smile touching his painted lips. He stepped closer slowly and non threateningly, one gloved hand extended in a gesture that felt almost courtly. My lady, I see the marks he has left. The swell of your body from his excess. Yet you stand. You document. You bite back. There is strength in you that the forest hungers for but I would not take it so roughly. A whisper of comfort, a touch to ease the ache he caused. His whisper was soft and intimate carrying a soothing quality that eased some of the rawness in your throat like a balm against Harlequins fire.

Harlequins tentacles flared aggressively, one wrapping tighter around your waist while another coiled protectively around your thigh. She is mine. Pale Fool. You had your chance with Columbina. This scholar belongs to the laughter now.

Pierrots hollow eyes never left yours. My lady or my lord if you prefer the address that fits your spirit. Kindness is rare in these ruins. I offer rest. Gentleness. Let the sorrow heal what laughter has broken. He reached out slowly a pale hand brushing a strand of hair from your face with feather light touch the contact sending a cool shiver through you that contrasted sharply with Harlequins heat. For a brief moment the three of you stood in tense proximity the mirrors reflecting the triangle Harlequins vibrant chaos Pierrots quiet melancholy and you in the center marked by one and intrigued by the other.

The ruins whispered around you mirrors reflecting three figures now you in the middle Harlequin on one side with his tentacles flared aggressively Pierrot on the other with silent sorrowful intensity. A small almost tentative encounter unfolded as Pierrot leaned in closer, his whisper promising softness. His gloved fingers traced lightly down your arm cool and careful avoiding the bruises while a faint soothing energy seemed to ease some of the deeper aches. Harlequin growled but did not pull you away immediately, his own tentacle sliding between your legs once more in a possessive stroke pushing cum deeper as if to remind you of his claim. The dual sensations Harlequins slick insistent warmth and Pierrot's gentle cool touch created a dizzying contrast that left you breathless, a brief shared moment of tension where pleasure and comfort blurred at the edges.

Pierrot's whisper continued gentle and respectful. My lady, if you would let me, I could show you tenderness amid the ruins. No brutal claiming only solace for your weary body. His hand rested lightly on your hip not demanding simply present while Harlequins tentacles tightened in response one thick appendage rubbing slowly against your swollen folds stirring another reluctant spark of arousal.

The moment stretched, charged and delicate, your body caught between fire and shadow. You bit your lip mind racing with scholarly curiosity even as exhaustion and sensation warred within you. The triangle was complete.

And none of you were getting out of these ruins unchanged.

Next Chapter

Author's Note: You know that canon Harlequin is trying to steal the MC from Pierrot in the canon game, right? Well, in this AU, it'll be the opposite, Pierrot is trying to steal you from Harlequin. Wink

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Special mention/Taglist

@that-dumb-bitch and @emsscript

• The Freak Circus Harlequin AU x Reader

• Smut Fanfic

• Word Count: 4,000+

Ruined Desires - Chapter 5

Previous Chapter

The ruins of Vaelthorn had become something far beyond stone and forgotten history. They were alive, breathing, pulsing, watching with an ancient, insatiable hunger that mirrored the being walking beside you. The air was thick, almost syrupy, saturated with that cloying sweet-musk scent that had become Harlequin’s unmistakable signature. It clung to your skin, invaded your lungs with every breath, and mixed with the lingering aphrodisiac he had forced upon you over the previous nights. Your body was a battlefield of sensation and defiance: thighs bruised from being spread and held open for hours, core still tender and throbbing with phantom fullness, skin littered with faint bite marks, hickeys, and the sticky sheen of his lubricant that refused to fully disappear no matter how much you tried to wipe it away. Every step sent unwelcome sparks of sensitivity racing through your nerves, a constant, humiliating reminder of how thoroughly he had already begun to unravel you.

Yet your mind remained a steel fortress. You were the sharp-tongued, obsessive explorer who had come here chasing forbidden knowledge, driven by academic ambition, past betrayals in the scholarly world, and a deep, secret loneliness that made the thrill of danger feel like the only thing capable of filling the void inside you. You would not break. You would document every carving, translate every inscription, and ultimately conquer whatever ancient horror lurked at the heart of these ruins, even if that horror currently walked beside you with a wide, sharp-toothed grin and wandering hands.

Harlequin walked beside you, always too close, his presence a constant, infuriating pressure at your side. His white mask still hid most of his face, the wide sharp-toothed grin and slanted black eyes giving him that theatrical, playful menace. Dark heart-shaped curls framed the mask, and those glowing green pupils never left you for long. Every few minutes his gloved hands found new excuses to touch you a “steadying” palm on your lower back that inevitably dipped lower to squeeze your ass possessively, fingers brushing the underside of your chest when you reached for a high carving, or lips ghosting your ear with filthy, theatrical whispers that made your skin prickle and your thighs press together involuntarily.

“These pillars tell quite the story,” he purred as you knelt before yet another towering structure covered in intricate heart-and-tentacle carvings. One hand slid boldly under your shirt from behind, fingers splaying across the bare skin of your stomach in slow, teasing circles while the other cupped your breast possessively, thumb circling your nipple until it pebbled traitorously against the fabric. “Worshippers spread wide on altars just like the one we’re heading toward, bodies rewritten by pleasure so intense they begged to be changed forever. You would look magnificent like that, little scholar, legs spread obscenely wide, belly swollen with load after load of my cum, cursing me through every shattering orgasm while your greedy cunt milks me dry and begs for more.”

The lingering aphrodisiac in your veins made your pussy clench involuntarily. Heat flooded your core. You reacted on pure instinct, grabbing his wrist and sinking your teeth hard into the skin just above his glove, biting down with enough force to make him feel it.

“Fuck—!” Harlequin yelped theatrically, clutching his wrist like it was a mortal wound. But his green eyes sparkled with pure, wicked delight, and instead of pulling away, he pressed the bitten spot more firmly against your mouth. “Biting again? You vicious, delicious little thing. Harder. Mark me properly. I want to feel your teeth on my skin every time I stroke my cock later, imagining how tight and wet you’ll feel when I finally bury every thick inch inside you and let my tentacles have their way with the rest of your body.”

You released him with a furious glare, spitting dramatically. “Touch me again without permission and the next bite takes a chunk out of you. I’m here to document these ruins and uncover the truth about the Laughing Veil and the disappeared scholars, not to be your personal forest sex toy or breeding altar.”

He staggered back dramatically, clutching his chest as if mortally wounded. “Such cruelty from such a brilliant, sharp-tongued mouth! My poor wrist may never recover from your savage affection.” He flexed it theatrically, then grinned wider, voice dropping into a suggestive growl. “Though I must admit, the pain shoots straight to my cock. Want to check how hard you made me with that bite, or shall I show you by bending you over this pillar right now and fucking you until you forget every skeptical thought in that clever head?”

You shoved him hard in the chest and returned to your notes, cheeks burning with a volatile mix of anger and unwanted arousal. “You’re deranged. Does nothing shame you after all these centuries?”

“Nothing that involves you fighting me so adorably,” he replied, circling back to press against you again. His hand returned to your hip, squeezing possessively. “Your resistance is the sweetest spice I’ve tasted in ages. Most who enter these ruins break within hours, begging for more. You bite me, insult me, and still get wetter every time I touch you. It’s intoxicating. Addictive. I could spend eternity watching you try to resist while your body betrays you so beautifully.”

The pattern repeated relentlessly throughout the long, tense afternoon. You would discover a promising new carving or inscription, kneel or bend to document it in your notebook with feverish intensity, and Harlequin would immediately take advantage. When you bent low over a low tablet, his hand squeezed your ass firmly. You spun around and bit his forearm hard. When he whispered about how he could smell your growing wetness mixing with the forest’s scent, you bit his shoulder. When he ground against you from behind while describing in vivid, filthy detail how the carvings showed worshippers being filled by tentacles until they forgot their own names and begged to stay forever in the ruins, you bit his neck.

Each bite earned increasingly comedic, over-the-top reactions that somehow made the oppressive, ancient atmosphere of the ruins feel like a twisted stage comedy with you as the unwilling but fierce lead. After one particularly hard bite on his collarbone, he dropped to his knees in front of you, clutching the mark like a sacred wound. “Yes! Claim your monster, little scholar! Brand me with your teeth while I dream of branding this tight, resistant pussy with my cock and tentacles!” He looked up at you with wide, playful green eyes. “The forest will compose epic ballads about this day, ‘The Great Harlequin, felled by the bite of a stubborn explorer who refused to beg even as she soaked his fingers and cursed his name through every orgasm.’”

You couldn’t suppress the short, exasperated laugh that escaped despite yourself. “You’re ridiculous. How are you this shameless after centuries of existence?”

“Centuries of practice,” he said cheerfully, rising fluidly and pulling you against his chest. One hand slid down to cup your mound over your pants, rubbing slow, firm circles that made your breath hitch. “And you make it so very rewarding. Keep biting me. It only makes me want to ruin you more thoroughly, more roughly, until you’re screaming my name and creaming around my cock while my tentacles hold you open for more.”

You bit his neck again in response. He moaned theatrically and ground his hardening length against your ass, the suggestive friction making your thighs press together.

The hours stretched on like this, a strange, charged blend of genuine archaeological discovery and relentless, suggestive harassment wrapped in dark comedy. You uncovered more fragments of the mystery: detailed references to the Laughing Veil as an entity that granted pleasure so intense it rewrote the victim’s very soul, binding them eternally to the forest through insatiable, all-consuming hunger. References to “changed ones” who returned to the outside world forever altered, craving the touch of the entity, unable to find satisfaction elsewhere. Harlequin’s teasing never ceased, constant suggestive touches, filthy theatrical whispers, playful provocations, and the occasional dramatic monologue that kept you flushed, frustrated, angry, and biting him at least fifteen times by your count.

By the time you reached the heart of the complex, a vast circular chamber with a raised black stone altar at its center, night had fully fallen outside the ruins. The glowing flowers bathed everything in soft, pulsing greens and golds, casting shifting, almost hypnotic shadows across the walls. The central carving on the altar was the most detailed and ominous yet: the jester figure lifting its mask to reveal a horned, powerfully muscular silhouette with thick, writhing tentacles emerging from its back, reaching toward kneeling worshippers in states of blissful, permanent ruin.

You traced the lines with careful, trembling fingers, heart pounding with academic excitement mixed with growing dread. “This is the true form. The one behind everything. The entity that doesn’t just take pleasure from people, it changes them permanently through it. Binds them. Is this what happened to all the disappeared scholars? Is this what you plan to do to me?”

Harlequin stepped up behind you. For once, his usual playful groping was replaced by something heavier, almost reverent. His hands settled on your hips, pulling you back against him. “You’ve always been too clever for your own survival,” he murmured, voice already roughening with something ancient and primal. “I wore the mask for centuries to keep this part contained. To appear as the charming, teasing jester rather than the monster beneath. But you… your defiance, your sharp tongue, your brilliant, obsessive mind, your hidden loneliness and thrill-seeking hunger… you make me want to let the veil fall completely. To show you everything I am. To let you see the truth that will ruin you forever.”

The temperature in the chamber plummeted. The glowing flowers flared brightly, casting shifting shadows across the walls. Harlequin’s body shuddered violently against yours. You felt the transformation begin, a ripple of raw, eldritch power that made the air hum and the stone beneath your feet vibrate.

His elegant jester attire dissolved like smoke and reformed into a tight black sleeveless top with strategic cutouts that revealed powerfully sculpted abs, broad shoulders, and strong, defined arms. Dark, wavy hair framed to his head that looks like a dark humanoid shadow where only the piercing green eyes and a jagged, glowing mouth pierce through the darkness, no longer fully obscured by the white mask, though faint shadowy remnants clung to the edges like a crown. Small, elegant black horns curled back from his head. From his back emerged six thick, slimy green tentacles, glistening with natural lubricant. They writhed slowly, sensitively, each subtle movement sending visible shivers of pleasure through Harlequin’s new, more muscular form.

Your breath caught in your throat. “Holy fucking shit… that’s really you.”

Before you could retreat or even fully process the sight, two thick tentacles wrapped around your waist and thigh, pulling you flush against his body. The slick, warm texture of the sensitive appendages made Harlequin groan deeply, the contact clearly highly erogenous for him. Every brush of the tentacles against your skin sent jolts through both of you.

“You wanted the full truth,” he growled, voice now distorted with ancient, resonant hunger. “Here it is. No more masks. No more games. Only me, the real me.”

He crashed his mouth against yours in a brutal, devouring kiss. His tongue, much longer, more forked, and far more dexterous pushed past your lips, exploring and claiming every inch of your mouth while his hands and tentacles worked in perfect synchronization to strip away your clothes with ruthless efficiency. You bit his lower lip hard enough to draw dark, iridescent blood. He moaned loudly into the kiss, the sound vibrating through your entire body as one thick tentacle slid between your legs, rubbing insistently against your soaked folds, coating you in slick lubricant.

“Still fighting me even now?” he rasped against your lips, green eyes glowing with feral, ancient need. “Perfect. I want you to fight every single second while I ruin you completely.”

He lifted you effortlessly and laid you down on the cool, smooth surface of the altar. The sensitive green tentacles spread your limbs wide, holding you completely open and exposed while he shed the rest of his clothing. Between his powerful thighs hung his true cock: monstrously thick and long, heavily ridged along its entire glistening length, dripping thick strands of sweet-musk aphrodisiac lubricant. Smaller writhing tendrils lined the shaft, and the split tip flexed and reached for you hungrily, already leaking pre-cum in thick strands.

You cursed him viciously, struggling against the tentacles with everything you had left. “Don’t you fucking dare put that monster inside me, you eldritch freak—”

Harlequin climbed over you and thrust inside with one savage, brutal stroke.

The penetration was devastating. The thick, slimy head forced your walls apart as the heavy ridges dragged roughly against every sensitive nerve ending. The smaller tendrils along his shaft writhed independently, stroking and milking your g-spot from all directions simultaneously. You screamed, back arching violently off the altar as you bit down hard on his shoulder, teeth sinking deep into muscle.

“Fuck— yes!” Harlequin snarled in raw, primal pleasure, hips slamming forward to bury every massive inch inside you. The visible bulge in your lower belly showed exactly how deep he was. “So fucking tight. So perfect for ruining. Take every inch, little scholar. Fight me while your cunt sucks me deeper.”

He didn’t give you any mercy or time to adjust. His hips snapped forward in punishing, powerful strokes, slamming into you with enough force to make the ancient altar creak and groan beneath you. The wet, obscene squelching sounds of his slimy cock pounding your dripping pussy echoed through the vast chamber like a filthy, rhythmic symphony. Lubricant and your own arousal sprayed messily with every brutal thrust, coating your thighs, his balls, and the stone beneath you.

You kept fighting through it all, biting his neck, shoulders, and chest wherever you could reach, cursing him between broken moans and gasps. “You— ah— fucking monster! Get it out— I hate you— fuck you— harder— no, stop—!”

Every bite made his tentacles tighten possessively around your limbs and body. One thick tentacle coiled around your breasts, slick tips teasing, pinching, and rolling your nipples relentlessly. Another pushed between your lips, muffling your insults while a third vibrated and stroked your swollen clit with perfect pressure. The sensitive green tentacles trembled with pleasure every time they touched your skin, creating a feedback loop that made Harlequin groan and thrust even harder, his hips losing all rhythm as primal need took over.

He fucked you like a primal force unleashed for what felt like an eternity in that initial missionary position on the altar. Long, deep, punishing strokes that rearranged your insides, the ridged cock battering your cervix while the writhing tendrils inside stroked and vibrated against every hidden pleasure spot. Your body betrayed you again and again, walls fluttering and clenching despite your snarling resistance. The first orgasm hit you like a thunderclap, your thighs shaking violently in the tentacles' iron grip, pussy gushing hot slick around his pistoning shaft as you screamed around the tentacle filling your mouth. Harlequin only laughed darkly and fucked you straight through it, hips never slowing, the bulge in your belly rising and falling obscenely with every thrust.

When your climax began to fade he suddenly pulled out, the wet pop of his cock leaving your stretched hole echoing loudly. Before you could even catch your breath two tentacles flipped you onto your stomach and yanked your hips up, forcing you into a deep, arched doggy-style position on the altar. Your knees scraped against the stone as he slammed back inside from behind in one brutal motion, even deeper at this new angle. His heavy balls slapped loudly against your clit with every savage thrust while his hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise. A thick tentacle wrapped around your waist to hold you steady while another snaked underneath to relentlessly rub your oversensitive clit. You bit his forearm viciously when he leaned over you, earning a guttural moan and even harder pounding that made your vision blur.

“Such a perfect little fighter,” he growled, voice thick with lust. “Bite harder, scholar. Mark your monster while I breed this greedy cunt.” The tendrils along his cock went wild, stroking your inner walls in counter-rhythm to his thrusts. Another orgasm crashed over you, your arms giving out as you collapsed forward, ass still held high by the tentacles as he railed you through the spasms.

Position after position blurred in a haze of relentless, creative ruin. He pulled you up into a standing carry, your back against his chest, legs spread obscenely wide by two powerful tentacles as he thrust upward into you with gravity helping every devastating stroke. Your head lolled back against his shoulder, biting at his neck and jaw while his hands mauled your breasts and a tentacle tip pushed into your mouth to fuck your throat in time with his cock. The chamber echoed with wet slaps, your muffled curses, and his theatrical yet primal groans of pleasure.

He spun you around into a full nelson hold next, tentacles supporting your weight completely while he drove into you from below, the new angle letting his ridged cock grind directly against your g-spot on every upward slam. Your arms were pinned uselessly above your head, leaving you helpless to do anything but bite at whatever skin you could reach and take the pounding. Cum from his first massive load began leaking out around his cock, dripping down your thighs and his balls in thick, sticky strands, only for him to fuck it back inside you messily.

Later he laid you on your side in a spooning position, one strong leg hooked over his arm to spread you wide as he slid in from behind. This allowed slower, grinding rolls of his hips that let you feel every ridge and writhing tendril in exquisite, torturous detail. His tentacles roamed freely, one thick one pushing into your ass alongside his cock for overwhelming double penetration, another vibrating against your clit, others teasing your nipples and stroking your throat. You came again, harder this time, squirting messily over his thrusting length while biting down on his bicep until you tasted blood.

Harlequin flipped you into cowgirl, sitting on the edge of the altar with you straddling him. Strong hands gripped your ass, slamming you down onto his monstrous cock repeatedly while you braced your hands on his chest and bit his pecs, shoulders, and neck in furious retaliation. The sensitive green tentacles on his back wrapped around your waist and thighs, helping bounce you faster, the suction-cup like tips kissing and teasing your skin with every movement. You rode him with angry, desperate rolls of your hips, trying to reclaim some control even as another shattering orgasm tore through you, your walls milking him until he roared and pumped another thick load deep into your womb, your belly visibly swelling from the sheer volume.

He didn’t let you rest. Transitioning into a lotus position facing each other, he held you close, grinding deep and slow while his forked tongue invaded your mouth and his tentacles explored every inch of your body. The intimate eye contact was almost too much, his glowing green gaze feral and possessive as you bit his lower lip and cursed him between moans. The slow, deep grinding built into another powerful climax for both of you, his cock pulsing as he filled you yet again.

Hours blurred. He suspended you completely in mid-air, tentacles holding you spread-eagle while he drove into you with savage upward thrusts, your body bouncing helplessly on his cock as gravity amplified every impact. Then a piledriver variation on the altar, your legs folded over his shoulders as he pounded downward, the angle letting him reach impossible depths while a tentacle slipped into your mouth to silence your screams of overstimulation. He took you against the carved walls of the chamber, one leg hooked over his arm in a standing fuck, your back scraping against ancient stone as he thrust up into you with bruising force, another tentacle coiling around your throat in a light, possessive squeeze that made your head spin with dark pleasure.

Not satisfied, he moved you into a reverse cowgirl on the altar steps, forcing you to face away from him as he guided your hips down onto his length. The new angle let his ridges drag along your front wall while tentacles reached around to pinch and tug your nipples and rub your clit in tight, relentless circles. You bit viciously at the tentacle nearest your face, making it twitch and throb in pleasure against your tongue. Harlequin groaned loudly and thrust up harder, one hand slapping your ass sharply before soothing the sting with a slick appendage.

He shifted again into a prone bone position, pressing you flat against the cool stone with his full weight, cock driving deep while his chest rubbed against your back and tentacles wrapped around your limbs to keep you pinned and open. The pressure was overwhelming, every inch of him buried inside you as he rocked with short, grinding thrusts that stimulated every nerve. Your next orgasm left you shaking uncontrollably, tears of overwhelming sensation mixing with sweat on your face.

Still, he continued, pulling you into a seated wood hold where your hands braced on the altar, and he held your hips high, pounding into you from behind while your upper body trembled with exhaustion. Then, back to a mating press, folding you nearly in half so your knees pressed against your shoulders, his horns brushing your thighs as he leaned down to bite and suck fresh marks onto your breasts. “Look at you,” he rasped between thrusts, voice hoarse with raw need, “belly full of my cum, cunt gaping and dripping, still biting like the fierce little scholar you are. The ruins will remember how beautifully you broke for me.”

You came again and again, losing count as overstimulation turned your resistance into broken, sobbing moans and desperate bites. Additional tentacles joined the fray, one thick one sliding into your ass for triple penetration while others stroked your skin, sucked on your clit, or fucked shallowly into your mouth. The chamber reeked of sex, filled with the constant wet sounds of flesh, slick lubricant, and cum, the pulsing glow of the flowers seeming to quicken in time with your shared rhythm.

By the final rounds you were a wrecked, cum-soaked mess, belly swollen with load after load, pussy and ass gaping and overflowing, body covered in bites, bruises, hickeys, and glistening slick from head to toe. Yet even then you managed one last weak bite to his chest as he finally slowed, his own body shuddering through yet another powerful release that flooded you with more hot, thick seed.

He collapsed beside you on the wide altar, pulling your limp, marked, and overflowing body against his powerful, muscular chest. The sensitive green tentacles stroked your skin soothingly now, almost tenderly, as he pressed soft kisses to your sweat-dampened neck and shoulders.

“You fought so beautifully,” he whispered, voice rough but laced with genuine awe and something deeper, almost possessive affection. “No one has ever resisted this long. You’re mine now, little scholar. The forest, the ruins, this true form… we all want to keep you. Forever.”

You bit his chest weakly in response, too exhausted to do more. Harlequin chuckled warmly, the sound vibrating through both of you as the glowing flowers continued to pulse around the altar like a shared heartbeat.

The veil had fallen completely.

And whatever came next would bind you to him and to the forest, in ways far deeper and more permanent than mere pleasure.

Next chapter

Author's Comment: I only post on tumblr if you see my works. They dont have my permission.

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• harlequin au x reader

• Sugg3stive Fanfic ( a lil comedy..)

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Ruined Desires - Chapter 4

Previous chapter

The ruins grew more imposing with every mile. Towering stone arches covered in glowing vines arched overhead like the ribs of some ancient beast, and the air hummed with a low, almost musical vibration that matched the frantic beat of your heart. You had barely slept after last night’s unwanted orgasm, your body still humming with residual sensitivity and your mind a storm of suspicion, academic obsession, and raw irritation.

Harlequin walked beside you too close, as always his masked face turned toward you with that perpetual sharp-toothed grin.

“You’re quiet this morning,” he observed, voice dripping with mock concern. One gloved hand reached out to brush a stray leaf from your shoulder, lingering to trail down your arm. “Still thinking about how prettily you came on my tongue? Or planning your next escape attempt?”

You smacked his hand away. “I’m thinking about how satisfying it would be to push you into one of these bottomless-looking crevices. Keep your hands to yourself or I’ll make sure the only thing you’re tasting later is your own blood.”

He laughed bright, theatrical, and far too delighted. “There’s that sharp tongue I adore. Bite me if you must, little scholar. I might even enjoy it.”

The day’s trek was long and filled with his relentless teasing. Every time you stopped to examine a carving or take notes, he was there hands sliding around your waist from behind, lips brushing your ear with filthy whispers about how wet he could smell you becoming again, fingers dipping teasingly under your shirt to trace patterns on your skin.

At one particularly detailed pillar covered in heart-and-tentacle motifs, he pressed fully against your back, one hand cupping your breast while the other slid boldly between your legs, rubbing slow circles over your clothed pussy.

“Imagine what these carvings depict,” he purred. “Worshippers spread open and filled until they forgot their own names. You’d look exquisite like that—”

You twisted in his grip and sank your teeth hard into his wrist, right above the glove.

Harlequin froze for half a second then burst into genuine, ringing laughter. “Ow! You vicious little thing!” Instead of pulling away, he pressed his wrist more firmly against your mouth, green eyes sparkling with amusement behind the mask. “Biting already? How forward. If you wanted a taste, you could have simply asked.”

You released his wrist with a glare, spitting dramatically. “That was a warning bite. Next time I draw blood. Stop pawing at me like I’m your personal stress toy.”

He flexed his wrist, still grinning. “Warning received… and thoroughly ignored.” He leaned in closer, voice dropping to a suggestive whisper. “Though I must admit, the feel of your teeth has me wondering what that sharp mouth would feel like wrapped around something thicker.”

You shoved him hard in the chest. “You’re disgusting.”

“Yet you’re blushing,” he teased, catching your hand and pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles before you yanked it back.

The comedy of the situation only seemed to encourage him. Later, when you bent over to clear moss from a low stone tablet, he gave your ass a firm squeeze. You spun around and bit his forearm this time harder.

Harlequin yelped theatrically, clutching his arm like he’d been mortally wounded. “Ah! Betrayal! My poor, innocent limb! And after I’ve been such a generous guide.” He pouted behind the mask, green pupils wide and playful. “Do you bite all your research partners, or am I special?”

“You’re a special kind of pain in the ass,” you shot back, wiping your mouth. But you couldn’t quite hide the tiny smirk that tugged at your lips. His over-the-top dramatics were annoyingly disarming.

He gasped, clutching his chest. “A pain in the ass? How cruel. I was aiming for a pain in the cunt repeatedly, and with great enthusiasm.”

You groaned and walked faster, ignoring the heat rising in your face. “You’re the worst.”

“Yet you keep walking with me,” he called after you, catching up easily. His hand returned to your lower back, sliding lower to squeeze your ass again just to provoke another bite.

The ruins eventually opened into a vast circular chamber half-sunk into the earth. Massive pillars surrounded a central altar covered in faded murals. You approached eagerly, notebook ready, while Harlequin lounged against a pillar, watching you with hungry eyes.

As you traced one particularly intricate carving showing a jester-like figure with multiple shifting forms and tendrils reaching toward kneeling worshippers, Harlequin came up behind you again. This time both hands slid around your front one slipping under your shirt to tease your breasts, the other cupping your mound and rubbing firmly.

“See how they offered themselves?” he whispered hotly against your neck. “Spread wide, begging for the entity’s gifts. You could be just like them. I’d ruin you so sweetly—”

You grabbed his wrist and bit down hard again, teeth sinking into the glove.

Harlequin moaned, actually moaned. the sound low and suggestive. “Mmm, harder, little scholar. Mark me. Claim me while I claim this dripping pussy.” His fingers pressed harder between your legs, rubbing your clit through your pants even as you bit him.

You released his wrist with a frustrated growl. “You’re impossible! Does nothing embarrass you?”

“Nothing that involves you resisting so adorably,” he replied, licking the bite mark on his glove with his forked tongue. “Your teeth feel divine. Almost as good as your cunt will when I finally bury my cock inside you.”

The suggestive banter and constant touching continued deep into the evening. He cooked (somehow) a simple meal over a conjured fire and insisted on feeding you bites, his fingers lingering near your lips. Every refusal earned more teasing touches and filthy commentary.

When night fully fell and you tried to set up your own separate sleeping spot, he simply scooped you up and deposited you on the main bedroll, pinning you beneath him.

“Still fighting for independence?” he purred, stripping you despite your protests and curses. “How charming.” He spread your legs wide, settling between them. His long, forked tongue returned with devastating skill licking, sucking, and spearing deep inside your soaked pussy while you yanked his hair and called him every name under the sun.

He edged you mercilessly for what felt like hours, bringing you to the brink repeatedly with tongue and fingers, only to pull back and bite or suck marks into your thighs and breasts instead. All the while he kept up his playful, suggestive commentary.

“Another bite and I’ll start counting them as love marks,” he teased after you sank your teeth into his shoulder. “Careful, or I’ll return the favor on this pretty clit.”

When your eventual orgasm finally tore through you despite every attempt to hold it back it left you shaking and cursing his name. Harlequin held you close afterward, stroking your hair and body with surprisingly gentle hands while whispering about how fascinating you were, how rare it was for anyone to resist this long.

But as you drifted toward exhausted sleep in his arms, you noticed something new in the ruins: one of the central carvings had begun to glow faintly, showing a figure that looked disturbingly like Harlequin… with something much larger and more monstrous emerging from behind the mask.

The forest was waking up.

And so was whatever ancient hunger lived inside your masked companion.

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Next chapter

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• Sugg3stive Fanfic

• harlequin au x reader

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Ruined Desires - Chapter 3

Previous chapter

Morning light pierced the vine-choked gaps in the waystation walls like hesitant fingers, pale and filtered through the thick canopy outside. You woke with a start, body aching in places that made your blood boil with a mix of fury and unwanted memory. Your thighs were sticky with dried arousal, your core still tender and throbbing faintly, and every shift of fabric against your skin sent unwelcome sparks through your oversensitive nerves.

Harlequin’s tall frame was still curled around you possessively from behind, one gloved arm draped heavily over your waist, fingers resting just below your navel. His masked face was tucked against the back of your neck, warm breath ghosting your skin.

You shoved his arm off with sharp force and scrambled away, grabbing your scattered clothes and yanking them on with jerky, angry movements. “Don’t you dare touch me again,” you snarled, voice hoarse but laced with venom. “Last night was nothing but chemical coercion. You drugged me and took advantage. If you think that gives you any claim over me, you’re even more delusional than you look in that ridiculous mask.”

Harlequin stretched languidly, rising to his full 6’1” height with fluid grace. The white mask with its wide, sharp-toothed grin and slanted black eyes regarded you with clear amusement, dark curly hair framing the edges. “Delusional?” he purred, voice smooth and theatrical. “You came so hard on my tongue you nearly drowned me, little scholar. Fought and cursed me the entire time, yet your greedy cunt clenched around my fingers like it never wanted to let go.” He stepped closer, one gloved hand reaching out to trail slowly down your arm. “Your body remembers. Even if that sharp tongue of yours refuses to admit it.”

You slapped his hand away hard. “Keep your filthy hands to yourself. I’m here for the ruins and the truth about whatever entity is behind the disappearances. Not to be your personal fucktoy in the woods.”

He chuckled darkly, undeterred, and moved behind you as you packed your bag. His hands settled on your hips, pulling your back against his chest while he leaned down to brush his masked lips against your ear. “Such pretty defiance. It only makes me want to bend you over and remind you how wet you get when I play with you.” One hand slid up under your shirt, palming your breast possessively and rolling your nipple between gloved fingers. “Feel that? Still so sensitive from last night.”

You elbowed him in the ribs and stepped away, glaring. “Touch me again and I’ll make sure the next ruin you see is the inside of a shallow grave. Let’s move. I didn’t come here to be groped every five minutes.”

Harlequin’s grin never faded as he led the way, but he stayed irritatingly close the entire journey. The forest paths twisted and shifted around you, trees rearranging subtly when you weren’t looking. Every time you climbed over a root or ducked under low branches, his hands were there “steadying” you with a firm grip on your ass, sliding along your inner thigh, or pressing against your lower back with suggestive pressure.

“You’re walking differently today,” he observed at one point, voice dripping with wicked amusement as he pressed up behind you on a narrow path. His hand dipped between your legs from behind, rubbing slow circles over your clothed pussy. “Still sore? Or just remembering how my tongue felt buried inside you?”

“Get your hand off me,” you hissed, trying to twist away even as heat pooled low in your belly again. “I’m not interested in your perverted commentary.”

Yet he continued throughout the long hours of trekking brushing against your chest “accidentally,” nipping at your neck when you paused to check your notes, whispering filthy observations about how he could smell your growing arousal, how he bet you were soaking through your underwear again. Every suggestive touch and word left you flushed, frustrated, and fighting the lingering effects of whatever he had given you.

By midday, you reached the first significant ruins: a cluster of weathered stone pillars half-swallowed by glowing moss and twisting vines. Heart symbols and jester-like figures were carved into the stone, intertwined with strange, tentacle-like patterns that seemed to pulse faintly. You dropped to your knees immediately, notebook out, sketching and translating the worn inscriptions with focused intensity.

Harlequin crouched behind you, hands resting on your hips as he looked over your shoulder. “Fascinating, isn’t it?” he murmured, one hand sliding under your shirt to stroke the bare skin of your stomach while the other cupped your breast again, squeezing gently. “They worshipped a being that offered pleasure so intense it rewrote their very souls. Changed them. Made them hunger for more.”

You tried to focus on the carvings, but his fingers pinching and rolling your nipple made it nearly impossible. “Stop that,” you snapped, slapping at his hand. “I’m trying to work. This ‘Laughing Veil’ mentioned here the entity that wears many faces and feeds on desire. That’s you, isn’t it?”

His grin widened. Instead of answering directly, he slipped one hand down the front of your pants, fingers gliding through your slick folds. “Clever girl. Always asking the right questions even while your cunt drips for the monster you’re studying.” Two fingers pushed inside you slowly, curling deep as his thumb circled your clit. “Keep reading those stones out loud. I want to hear your voice shake while I finger you.”

You bit back a moan, gripping your notebook tighter. “You’re a fucking menace,” you growled, even as your hips twitched involuntarily. “I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of breaking me.”

He kept you like that for a long time fingering you slowly while you tried desperately to document the ruins, whispering filthy praise and taunts against your ear the entire time. Only when your thighs began to tremble did he pull his hand free, licking his fingers clean with his forked tongue while watching you with glowing green eyes.

The day wore on like that constant suggestive touches, teasing words, and building tension as you uncovered more fragments of the mystery. By evening, you reached a larger clearing with more substantial temple ruins overgrown with bioluminescent flowers that pulsed in rhythm with your quickened heartbeat.

Harlequin made camp, conjuring another small fire. As night fell, his teasing grew bolder. He pulled you down onto the blankets despite your protests, stripping you piece by piece while ignoring your curses and attempts to push him away.

“Still fighting so hard?” he purred, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand as the other roamed freely over your naked body. “Even though your nipples are so hard and your thighs are already spreading for me?” His forked tongue traced wet patterns down your stomach before he settled between your legs, spreading you wide.

“Don’t—” you started, but his long, flexible tongue dragged slowly up your soaked slit, splitting to attack your clit from both sides while spearing deep inside you. He devoured you relentlessly, moaning against your pussy as if you were addictive. You cursed him the entire time, calling him every insult, yanking at his hair, trying to close your legs, but he held you open and worked you mercilessly with tongue and fingers.

He edged you for what felt like hours, bringing you right to the brink over and over only to pull back and kiss, bite, and suck marks into your breasts, thighs, and neck instead. His words never stopped filthy praises mixed with taunts about how wet you were, how delicious your resistance tasted, how he would eventually ruin you so thoroughly you’d never want to leave the forest.

When your orgasm finally crashed over you, it was against your will violent and overwhelming. You came with a choked curse, gushing around his tongue while he held you down and drew it out until you were shaking and oversensitive.

Afterward, he pulled you into his arms again, holding you close as you trembled with aftershocks. His touches gentled, but his words stayed suggestive and possessive.

“You resist so beautifully,” he whispered against your hair. “But the ruins are waking up. And so am I. There’s so much more I want to show you, little scholar… if you survive long enough.”

You lay there, exhausted, furious, and disturbingly intrigued, mind racing with new questions about the entity, the forest, and the masked being who seemed determined to consume you one teasing touch at a time.

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Ruined Desires - Chapter 2

The firelight flickered across the ancient stone walls of the waystation like living fingers, casting long, restless shadows that seemed to reach toward you with malicious curiosity. The air was thick with the scent of damp moss, old stone, and that cloying sweetness that clung to Harlequin like a second skin. Your back was pressed firmly against the cool, vine-covered wall, chest heaving as the masked figure loomed over you, his tall frame caging you in completely.

The liquid from the flask had turned your blood into liquid fire. Every nerve ending screamed with hypersensitivity. Your nipples were painfully hard, your pussy throbbed with an insistent, humiliating ache, and slick arousal had already soaked through your underwear and was beginning to trail down your inner thighs. You hated it. You hated how quickly your body had betrayed you.

You shoved hard at his chest, fingers digging into the fine fabric of his elegant jacket. “Get the fuck off me,” you snarled, voice sharp despite the breathy undertone you couldn’t quite suppress. “You drugged me, you sick bastard. I came here for the ruins for answers about the disappearances, about whatever ancient horror is supposed to be lurking in this godforsaken forest. Not to be molested by some masked creep playing games.”

Harlequin’s wide, sharp-toothed grin only widened behind the white mask. His green eyes gleamed with dark delight as one gloved hand slid slowly beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing the curve of your waist with deliberate, teasing strokes. “Molested? Such a harsh word, little scholar. I’m simply helping you adjust to the forest’s… hospitality.” His fingers drifted higher, cupping your breast through your bra and rolling your hardened nipple between thumb and forefinger, pinching just hard enough to make you gasp.

You slapped his hand away instantly, glaring daggers at him. “Touch me again and I’ll carve that grin off your face. I’m not some helpless victim for you to toy with.”

He laughed low, rich, and utterly unbothered and pressed his thigh between your legs anyway, forcing them apart. “Yet here you are, soaking my thigh through your clothes. Your sharp tongue is impressive, but your body is far more honest.” His other hand worked open your hiking pants with infuriating ease, shoving them and your underwear down to your knees in one rough motion. The cool air hit your drenched folds, making you shiver.

“Stop—” you hissed, trying to clamp your thighs shut, but his knee kept them spread. Two gloved fingers dragged slowly through your slick heat, spreading your wetness obscenely before pushing inside you without warning. The stretch burned in the most delicious way, his long digits curling instantly against that sensitive spot deep inside.

“Fuck— get your fingers out of me!” you snapped, even as your walls clenched greedily around the intrusion. You grabbed his wrist with both hands, trying to pull him away, but he was far stronger. He simply curled his fingers deeper, pumping them in a slow, torturous rhythm while his thumb found your swollen clit and began rubbing tight, relentless circles.

“Such defiance,” he purred against your neck, forked tongue flicking out to taste your racing pulse. “I can feel how tightly you’re gripping me. How wet you’re getting. Fighting me only makes it sweeter.” He added a third finger, stretching you wider, the wet squelching sounds echoing humiliatingly in the small shelter.

You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood, refusing to let the moan escape. “You’re disgusting,” you spat between clenched teeth. “Using some cheap aphrodisiac because you know I’d never want you otherwise. Pathetic.”

Harlequin chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying your resistance. He pushed your shirt and bra up with his free hand, exposing your breasts fully to the firelight. He leaned down and dragged his tongue across one nipple before sucking it into his mouth, teeth grazing the sensitive peak while his fingers continued their relentless assault between your legs.

Every thrust of his fingers sent sparks shooting up your spine. The aphrodisiac amplified everything making the pleasure almost painful in its intensity. You twisted and squirmed, trying to escape his touch, but every movement only drove his fingers deeper.

“Get off- ah- stop it!” you gasped, yanking at his dark curly hair with one hand while the other pushed at his shoulder. But your hips were rocking against his hand despite your words, chasing the friction even as you cursed him.

He released your nipple with a wet pop, lifting his masked face to look at you. “Keep fighting, little scholar. It only makes me want to break you more thoroughly.” He suddenly dropped to his knees, yanking your pants the rest of the way off and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. His masked face hovered inches from your dripping core.

“Mgh- Don’t you dare-!” you started, but his long, forked tongue dragged slowly from your entrance up to your clit, splitting at the tip to attack both sides of the swollen bud at once.

The sensation was devastating. You cried out, thighs clamping around his head as you tried to shove him away. “I said stop, you fucking monster!” But your voice cracked, and your hips jerked forward involuntarily. His tongue speared deep inside you, writhing and twisting like a living thing while the prongs at the tip tortured your clit mercilessly. He moaned against your pussy like you were the finest meal he’d tasted in centuries, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core.

You kept fighting cursing him, insulting him, pulling his hair, trying to close your legs but the pleasure built higher and higher despite your resistance. He brought you right to the edge again and again, only to slow down or pull back whenever your body started to tense, edging you cruelly for what felt like hours.

Tears of frustration and overwhelming sensation pricked at your eyes. “I hate you,” you gasped, voice hoarse. “I hate what you’re doing to me.”

Harlequin finally pulled back just enough to speak, his mask glistening with your juices. “Good,” he purred, green eyes burning. “Hate me all you want. Your cunt is still dripping for me.” He plunged three fingers back inside you and sucked hard on your clit at the same time.

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train violent, shattering, unstoppable. You came with a choked cry, gushing around his fingers and tongue, thighs shaking violently as wave after wave crashed through you. He didn’t stop, drawing it out mercilessly until you were oversensitive, twitching, and pushing weakly at his head.

Only then did he rise, pulling you into his arms and carrying you to the soft pile of moss and blankets. He spooned you from behind, holding you tightly against his chest as you trembled with aftershocks. His hands continued roaming gentler now, but still stroking your stomach, tracing your curves, occasionally dipping between your legs to lazily tease your oversensitive clit and keep the fire simmering.

“You fought so beautifully,” he whispered against your ear, pressing soft kisses and small bites along your shoulder. “But we both know this is only the beginning. The forest and I have so many more ways to ruin a stubborn, ambitious little explorer like you.”

You lay there, breathless and furious, body still humming with unwanted pleasure. Your mind raced with suspicions, questions, and a dark thrill you refused to acknowledge.

The forest whispered outside the waystation. The fire crackled softly.

And Harlequin held you like something he had every intention of claiming completely.

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🍊: Unfortunately, I do not allow my work to be translated or published on other websites. Thank you for understanding!

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Ruined Desires

The forest of Vaelthorn had teeth.

You felt them the moment you crossed the overgrown threshold, the air thickening around you like invisible hands pressing against your skin. Ancient trees loomed overhead, their trunks carved with symbols that seemed to writhe when your attention drifted. The ground was soft and warm beneath your boots, the moss pulsing faintly as if breathing. Every step echoed with a strange finality. You had come here chasing legends, disappearances, returned victims speaking of beautiful strangers and endless nights, ancient ruins that supposedly housed something far older than humanity itself.

You were sharp enough to know the dangers. Ambitious enough to ignore them anyway. After the betrayal in academia, the stolen research, the lonely nights spent staring at blank ceilings wondering if anyone would ever truly understand your hunger for discovery, this expedition felt like the only thing that still made your blood run hot. Even if it consumed you.

Hours blurred together. Your compass spun lazily no matter how many times you shook it. Paths you had carefully marked vanished behind you. The trees rearranged themselves like living sentinels. Sweat clung to your skin, your practical hiking clothes sticking uncomfortably to your curves as humidity wrapped around you like a lover’s breath.

“Brilliant,” you muttered sarcastically, wiping your forehead. “Come to the cursed forest alone. Risk everything for answers no one else dares chase. What could possibly go wrong?”

A soft rustle answered you.

You turned, knife already half-drawn from your belt.

Harlequin stood mere feet away, as if he had materialized from the shadows between the roots. Tall and elegantly poised, he wore an intricate mix of archaic jester attire in black, green, and gold, with heart motifs and diamond patterns. His face remained hidden behind the familiar white mask, slanted black eyes and that wide, sharp-toothed grin. Heart-shaped curls of black hair framed the edges of the mask. No bells this time. Just silence and presence.

“Well, well,” he purred, voice smooth, theatrical, and dripping with wicked amusement. “A sharp-tongued little scholar lost in my domain. How deliciously predictable… and yet somehow still entertaining.”

You narrowed your eyes, refusing to show how unnerved you were. “Your domain? That’s cute. Most people introduce themselves before claiming ownership of an entire forest. Who the hell are you?”

He tilted his head, the grin never faltering. “Harlequin. And you… you’re far more interesting than the usual prey that stumbles in here.” He took a slow step closer, then another, until he was circling you like a predator examining something new and fascinating.

Before you could protest, his gloved hand brushed along your arm, slow, deliberate, the fabric cool at first before warmth seeped through. The touch lingered, fingers tracing lightly down to your wrist. “You’re trembling,” he murmured. “Not entirely from fear, though. There’s excitement underneath that sarcasm. I can taste it.”

You jerked your arm away, heart pounding. “Touch me again without asking and I’ll give you a much closer look at my knife. Personal space is a thing, even in creepy forests full of theatrical weirdos.”

Harlequin chuckled, low and rich, clearly delighted by your defiance. Instead of backing off, he moved behind you, his tall frame pressing close enough that you could feel the unnatural heat radiating from his body. One hand settled lightly on your hip, thumb stroking slow circles over the fabric of your clothes. “So sharp. So quick to bite back. I like that among my guests. Most simply whimper and beg within the first hour.” His other hand trailed up your side, barely grazing the underside of your breast before pulling away teasingly. “But you… you want to fight. You want to understand. Even if it ruins you.”

Your breath hitched despite yourself. “Flattery and wandering hands? You’re not subtle. If you’re trying to lure me somewhere to die, at least try to be original about it.”

He laughed again and stepped in front of you, catching your chin gently between gloved fingers. His masked face leaned in close, green pupils glowing faintly behind the eye slits. “Original? Oh, little explorer… I have centuries of experience with originality.” His thumb brushed your lower lip, pressing just enough to part it slightly. “Tell me… when was the last time someone touched you like this? Really touched you? Not the polite, careful way your colleagues do. Something hungry.”

You slapped his hand away, cheeks burning. “None of your damn business. I’m here for the ruins, not whatever twisted game you’re playing.”

“Yet you’re still talking to me,” he pointed out, grinning wider. He offered his arm with theatrical flair. “The forest will keep shifting until you’re truly lost. Come. There’s an old waystation nearby. Safe. Private. We can continue this delightful conversation there.”

Against every rational instinct, you took his arm. His touch was firm, possessive. As you walked, Harlequin kept you close, his hand occasionally sliding from your arm to your lower back, fingers pressing in just enough to feel possessive. Every few minutes he would lean in, lips brushing your ear as he whispered teasing observations, about the way your hips moved when you walked, about how your breath quickened whenever his fingers grazed your waist, about how lonely ambition smelled so sweet on you.

The aphrodisiac in the air, or perhaps something he was emitting, began working subtly. Your skin grew warmer. Your thighs rubbed together with uncomfortable slickness. A persistent, low ache settled deep in your core.

“You’re flushed,” he noted casually, one hand sliding down to squeeze your ass firmly for a moment before pulling away with a chuckle when you glared. “The forest likes you. Or maybe I do.”

The walk stretched on for what felt like an eternity of tension. Harlequin never stopped touching you, innocent brushes that turned into lingering caresses. His fingers would trace your spine through your shirt, dip teasingly along your hip bone, or brush against the side of your breast when he “steadied” you over uneven ground. Each contact left trails of tingling heat that made your nipples harden and your pussy throb with growing need.

By the time you reached the crumbling stone waystation, half-reclaimed by glowing vines and soft bioluminescent moss, your legs felt weak and your mind was hazy with unwanted arousal.

Harlequin guided you inside, his hand firm on your waist. He conjured a small fire with eerie ease, then produced an ornate flask from within his jacket.

“Drink,” he urged, pressing it into your hands. His body pressed against your back again, arms wrapping around you from behind as he held the flask to your lips. “It will help with the forest’s influence. Keep that brilliant mind of yours sharp… and that beautiful body warm and receptive.”

You were too thirsty, too overwhelmed to refuse. You drank deeply.

The liquid was thick, sickeningly sweet with a heavy musky undertone. Heat exploded through your body almost instantly, rushing down to the pool between your legs in a slick, aching flood. Your clit throbbed. Your pussy clenched around nothing. A soft, involuntary moan slipped from your lips as your knees buckled slightly.

Harlequin caught you easily, turning you in his arms so your back was against the stone wall. His hands roamed freely now, one sliding up under your shirt to caress your bare stomach, the other cupping your breast through your bra, thumb circling your hardened nipple.

“Poor little scholar,” he purred against your neck, sharp teeth grazing your skin. “It hits so strongly, doesn’t it? That burning need between your thighs. That wetness soaking through your clothes.” He pinched your nipple lightly, rolling it between gloved fingers while his other hand dipped lower, cupping your mound possessively over your pants. “Be honest with me. How badly do you want to be touched right now?”

You gasped, trying to maintain your sharp tongue even as your hips rolled involuntarily against his hand. “This… this is cheating,” you managed breathlessly. “What the fuck did you give me?”

Harlequin chuckled darkly, pressing his thigh between your legs so you could grind against it. His fingers worked your chest with skilled precision, while his mouth trailed hot kisses and nips along your collarbone. “Just a little encouragement. The forest rewards those who stop fighting what they truly want.” He squeezed your ass hard, pulling you tighter against him. “And you, my ambitious, lonely explorer… you want to be devoured. You want to be seen. You want this.”

His hand slipped beneath your waistband, fingers teasing along the edge of your underwear, never quite giving you what you needed. He kept you on the edge like that for long, torturous minutes, teasing, touching, whispering filthy observations about how wet you were, how your body betrayed your sharp words.

The night had only just begun, and Harlequin showed no intention of letting you escape his playful, hungry attention anytime soon..

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Harlequin’s apperance look like this however still maintain his signature look

[No reposting Btw.]

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🍊: Unfortunately, I do not allow my work to be translated or published on other websites. Thank you for understanding!