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Harlequin

Broken Mask (Angst) GN

Doctor

Tags: Jester/Reader, gender neutral, NSFW, oviposition, bdsm, sadomasochism, blood, belly bulge, breathplay, whips, monster cock

⟡ ݁.˙⟡ .˚ ₊⟡ .˙ ݁ ⟡ .˚ ₊⟡

You were lying on the floor, your legs and arms restrained by the bondage set Jester made you wear, unable to close your legs or move your hands. A mask covered your face, leaving you completely blind. You could barely breathe inside it, let alone talk.

Your spread legs tremble, sweat already forming a puddle beneath you. The sound of Jester’s heels clicking on the floor was crystal clear, your senses were heightened by the restrictions. You could hear his breathing, your insides throbbing when you hear it shudder.

He hadn’t touched you yet. Besides the occasional strike of his whip, nothing had made contact with your naked body, making the wait unbearable. You almost wanted to plead, if only the mask wasn't restricting you from doing so.

Tonight was different from all the others, he'd normally he'd had you warming his cock as he reads a book. But today he almost felt… Needy.

You were lost in your mind, Jester must have taken notice, because the whip kissed your abused skin again making you whimper.

“Tsk, what a pathetic little pet you are… whining from just a little whipping,” Jester said coldly, though you could almost picture the sadistic smile on his lips as his dick throbs in his pants.

“Hm… If you can’t even handle the whip, I’m afraid you’re useless to me. Perhaps you’d rather belong to Pierrot?” You whimpered again and shook your head desperately. You could do it. You were a good pet. You'd be so good for him, you wanted no one else.

Jester chuckled feeling your needy for him amusing, the low sound heavy in your ears. His whip slowly caressed your skin, making you tense and shiver. You felt it slide from your groin up to your chest, where it stopped to tease your nipples. A pleasant torture after the lack of stimulation.

“Pathetic.”  The whip suddenly slapped against your stomach, forcing a muffled scream from behind the mask.

Jester admired your naked body, now red and marked from the whipping, small trails of blood running from the wounds. What a perfect view for naked eyes, if only you weren't a defenseless human he'd have your body filled with bite marks.

Truthfully, you were being a perfect little thing for him, but his primal instincts made it difficult to praise you—especially when you looked so delicious trembling beneath him.

He began circling you slowly, his own arousal throbbing at the sight. You were torturing him just as much as he was torturing you. Your soft body made him crave its touch, and it took everything in him not to tear into you open. He had never felt so out of control before. He knew that the moment he touched you, he would devour your very being.

When he finally stopped between your spread legs, he could see how wet you were, blood and sweat merging together and painting a beautiful view. The sight alone made his groin burn. 

What a perfect vessel for my eggs.

“Tell me, pet… Are you going to be an obedient human?” You nodded frantically. You were going to be perfect for him. You always were. And he never doubted it.

He grabbed the bondage set and dragged you. 

You sigh in relief when you feel the soft bedding under you. Your body beginning to relax. When suddenly you were lifted and hung against the wall by what felt like silky ropes.

Jester’s hot breath ghosted over your needy sex, making your toes curl in anticipation. But he didn’t touch you yet, making you groan in desperate need.

He was salivating, looking at your need with wide eyes, doing everything to hold back. He was only using you as a vessel, and that was all you were allowed to be. You didn’t deserve pleasure. Not until you are proven to be a useful pet and he knew you were going to be.

His claws dug into the inside of your thighs as you felt the spear-shaped head of his cock press against your entrance. He was already leaking against you, teasing your hole making sure you are wet enough to take all of him.

He began to nibble your chest, making circles with his long tongue as he began to press inside. You choked on a breath as his thick cock began to push inside you. A deep growl escaped Jester’s throat, a sound you had never heard from him before, it would scare you if it wasn't for the pressure inside you.

Startled, you tensed around him, squeezing him tighter. One of his clawed hands flew from your thigh to the wall to sink deeper into you, leaving deep marks on the wall.

His teeth were bare, fighting the overwhelming urge to bite down and give in to his instincts of breeding you, he didn't want to finish just yet but your insides were making it difficult to last.

He didn’t give you time to adjust and began thrusting his cock into you with frantic, brutal force. You couldn’t see him, and it infuriated him, your eyes were meant to be his. His own were fixed on your masked face, aching to tear the fabric off and let your gaze fall upon him.

He growled louder and pounded into you. You were starting to feel dizzy as the mask made it almost impossible to breathe, making your fingers twitch uncontrollably. The sounds leaving your throat were becoming animalistic, caring little for what Jester could think of you.

He could feel his cock swelling with eggs,the feeling making him moan as he also felt how your insides spasmed from an orgasm. He wasn’t going to last much longer—how humiliating. It's your fault for being such an obedient mouse.

“You’re being such a good pet” he grunted, burying his claws into your ass.

“You’re going to take them all. You’re going to be a good human and serve me and my offspring.” You clenched tightly around him, moaning at his words. The reaction made him growl in return.

When the first egg slid into you, you whimpered at the stinging stretch. He kept rutting into you like he couldn't help it, his hips snapping against you making wet obscene sounds that echoed the tent. It burned so perfectly, making you feel at your limit yet again as the egg went deeper inside you. Jester snarled, claws digging bloody crescents into your ass as he forced the second egg inside, then the third, each one thicker than the last, bulging your lower belly visibly with every savage thrust.

Jester was completely lost to instinct now, growling against your skin as he kept pumping egg after egg into your body. You could feel your belly swelling with every thrust.He didn’t stop after the clutch was laid. Instead he pulled out just enough for his ridged cock to drag against your abused walls, only to slam back in, fucking his own eggs even deeper while his tongue lashed across your nipples and throat. 

“Again” he hissed against your ear, voice raw.

“You’re going to take another load, pet. I’m not finished breeding you.” Jester crushed his mouth to yours in a sloppy kiss. His hips never slow down.

The new angle letting him grind against the spot inside that made you moan louder. You came again, squirting around his cock and the clutch of eggs, soaking him.

Jester groaned at the feeling, pulling out, and flipping you around like you weighed nothing.Your chest slammed against the wall, ass arched as he mounted you from behind. This time he was slower, more deliberate, making you feel every swollen egg shifting inside your stuffed belly while he fucked deeper into you.His claws traced your swollen abdomen, pressing lightly so you could feel how full you were.

“Look at you… carrying my eggs so well. Such a perfect breeding mouse.” Jester was completely lost to instinct now, growling against your skin as he kept pumping egg after egg into your body. You could feel your belly swelling with every thrust.He couldn’t hold back any longer. With a snarl, he clawed at your mask and sank his teeth into your shoulder.

You screamed in a mix of pleasure and pain, tears streaming down your face. His hypnotic purple eyes locked onto yours, drinking in every expression while his hips never stop moving.Now you could finally see him, he was completely lost in pleasure, mouth slightly open, fangs bloody and face flushed as he stared into your eyes.

Once the last egg was inside you, his thrusts slowed, becoming deep and deliberate to keep them safely in place while he savored the feeling.

Only when you were limp and whimpering did he finally pull out, only to push you on the bed, spreading your trembling thighs wide and sinking back in.

This time you were face to face, his hypnotic purple eyes locked on yours as he took you slow, making sure you felt every new egg overflowing your womb. Jester couldn’t stop touching your rounded belly, growling in satisfaction every time he felt the clutch shift under his palm.You looked at him with exhausted, tired eyes, on the verge of passing out.

“You’ll stay like this just for me, won't you?” he murmured, his voice almost pleading as he starts licking the tears and sweat from your cheeks. You couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Huh… Just before you blacked out, you saw a soft smile on his face.

How tired must you be to imagine something like that on Jester’s face?

Tags: Doctor/Reader, gender neutral, suggestive, blood, medical instruments, masochism, cuts, wounds, blood licking

──── ☩ ────

The examination table, once grey, was now turning copper. Warm streams of blood ran down your body as the Doctor sliced your skin open.

The Doctor’s breathing grew heavier, adrenaline rushing through his veins. How beautiful the human nervous system is, the Doctor thought.

He could feel your body trembling as he continued cutting your skin. Even the smallest incisions made you react so deliciously.

He began to cut deeper, each stroke drawing a whine from your lips and making heat pool in his own body.

This had started as just another experiment, yet something in your eyes made it feel entirely different from all the times he had played with his dolls. Only now did he begin to understand what the green clown had meant when he visited his tent, boasting about his latest conquests.

The feeling of having you completely at his mercy… your blind trust in him… How fragile and naïve humans were—restrained and willingly offering themselves to a predator like him.

Perhaps Jester had been right, but he would never call you a fool. No, not you. Your eyes were daring, brave. You knew exactly what he was, and yet you didn’t flinch. Your curiosity burned brighter than any fear.

Even now, as you watched his bare face hovering over you, he saw no trace of terror in your gaze.

He could almost taste your blood.

Despite the wide tent, all he could smell was you: your blood, your sweat, even your arousal. Every breath made him press the blade deeper. The feeling of your warm blood coating his claws was exquisite.

His hands massaged the wounds open, hungry. He was desperate to tear your skin apart and lose himself in your flesh.

Yet he restrained himself. It would be a waste to lose such an interesting and willing patient.

That didn’t stop him from spreading the cuts wider and lowering his face to them, pecking and licking gently—just enough to savor a taste of your raw flesh.

To him, the sight of your skin parting was no different from a master painter watching a canvas yield to a brush only far more vibrant, far more alive. He leaned down, his movements fluid and deceptively calm. His gloved hands, stained a deep, glistening scarlet, reached out to frame your face.

He didn't care that the blood from his palms smeared across your cheeks, painting your skin in gruesome, beautiful streaks of red.

He cupped your face with a strange tenderness, his thumbs brushing over the wounds he had so carefully carved.

A low, melodic chuckle bubbled up from his throat, a sound that was far too cheerful for the carnage laid out on the table. It was the laugh of a man who had just discovered a particularly delightful secret.

──── ☩ ────

Thank you for reading! ꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱

THANK YOU SO SO MUUUUCH

I have more Doctor coming, so be alert next week~

And with beautiful art from this amazing artist

Tags: nsfw, Doctor/reader, courting, dry humping

──── ☩ ────

The circus grounds hummed with distant music and screams, but the edges between tents were quiet. After Harlequin's performance you needed a moment to yourself, the circus's atmosphere making you feel out of breath.

You crouched as your eye caught something on the ground, a perfect crimson feather. Then you found another, and another, they seemed to be everywhere. What kind of bird was leaving these all around?

Soon your coat pockets were full. In your mind, you pictured turning them into something beautiful, delicate flowers with layered petals, wired stems, perhaps worn as ornaments or kept as personal treasures. They deserved better than to be ground into the dirt.

Your flower ornament thoughts were interrupted by a pair of footsteps. You looked up to find the Ticket Taker and Jester standing over you, their expressions unusually serious beneath the mask.

“Those don’t belong to you visitor” Ticket Taker and Jester startled you.

“Circus property they're decorative elements. Be so kind as to hand them over.” The Ticket Taker extended a gloved hand, voice flat. 

“Can’t have guests stealing them, can we?” You clutched the feathers closer. You knew it'd be wrong to keep something that's not yours, but when have they ever had a show that needed these feathers?

“They were lying on the ground. And they feel too alive to be simple decor...” You felt a shiver run down your spine just as you said it. Jester's eyes felt menacing now, making you look at the ground in shame.

Before they could press further, a tall figure emerged from the medical tent’s shadow. Doctor. 

“Leave them” Doctor said quietly. The other two deny instantly with uneasy glances.

"No, they must not keep them Doctor. I'm certain you are aware why" Jester's voice sounded demanding, cold, a usual shift in his voice. But Doctor ignored his warning and centered his attention on you.

“You collected the feathers?”

 “I did.” You lifted one, turning it slowly.

“I wanted to make flowers from them. They’re gorgeous” A visible shiver ran through him. Despite you eagerness to keep them and your curiosity on why they were lying to you. You stepped closer to Ticket Taker, voice softening. 

“It's a shame they’re not meant to be kept. They’re so beautiful… and soft.” Your thumb stroked along the feather’s edge, slow and appreciative. The texture was divine—warm from residual body heat, silky, almost electric against your skin. You ultimately hand them over, the other two casting a murderous gaze upon you but ultimately leaving, not before giving Doctor a warning gaze.

Doctor’s reaction was immediate and involuntary at your statement. His chest puffed outward with a soft rustle. The motion made him look even taller. A deep, thrumming sound rolled from him, half-purr and half-coo. It vibrated through the night air, warm and intimate, unmistakably a courtship trill.The circus fell silent.

You looked at him in confusion and amusement.

Pierrot stepped out of the shadows, stunned.

"…Did Doctor just—?”

“Was that a purr?”

“No. Impossible. He never—” The sound deepened as Doctor leaned in, head tilting with soft beak clicks. His eyes fixed on you with raw, predatory fascination. The trill wrapped around you like velvet, carrying faint traces of his scent; warm feathers, herbs, and something distinctly him.

A gloved hand suddenly seized your wrist, taking you away from the trance.“Time to go, darling!” Pierrot’s voice rang out, edged with urgency. Doctor’s trill cut off with an indignant click.

“Pierrot. Timing impeccable, as always" His chest remained puffed, feathers fluffed, eyes narrowed at Pierrot in clear warning. Another loose red feather drifted from his coat, landing at your feet like an offering.

The circus night felt different now. Somewhere behind you, the Doctor was already calculating his next careful, instinctive step in this unexpected courtship.

As Pierrot led you toward the lingering lights and music you glanced back at Doctor, he stood motionless. His keen gaze tracked your every step.

Pierrot kept his arm firmly against you as he guided you along the main path. His bells jingled with every step, a cheerful counterpoint to the way his panicked eyes kept flicking back toward the Doctor's tent. With a sense of guilt you speak;

“I only wanted to keep them because they're beautiful. I didn’t expect… that reaction. I'm sorry Pierrot”

Rapid footsteps approached from behind. Ticket Taker skidded into view, his usual calm energy dialed up to frantic. He grabbed Pierrot’s sleeve and tugged hard, whispering something urgent. You caught fragments—“Jester está furioso-” “-aquele visitante,” “-troféus” Pierrot sighed, releasing your arm with puppy eyes.

“I’ll only be a moment. Don’t wander too far, please darling?" He shot you a quick, nervous smile before letting Ticket Taker drag him toward one of smaller tents.

You stood alone for barely ten seconds before the air behind you shifted.

“Quickly,” a low, precise voice said near your ear. Doctor’s gloved hand settled lightly at the small of your back, guiding rather than pushing. His coat brushed against your side as he steered you off the main path and toward a tall, elegant tent you hadn’t noticed before, it was bathed in soft teal light that spilled from within like deep seawater under moonlight. The fabric looked heavier than the others, almost velvety.

Doctor let the flap fall shut behind you. For a long moment he simply stood there, tall and composed, golden eyes studying your face. Then his shoulders relaxed by a fraction.

“Forgive the abruptness,” he murmured.

“Pierrot means well, but his sense of timing is deliberately obstructive. I wanted a moment without the entire troupe speculating.” You took one of the feathers from the table, turning it slowly.

“They really don’t like me keeping these, do they?”His voice remained clinical, but a faint tension tightened his jaw.

“We used to have trouble with visitors who went out of their way to... steal from us. The others fear you might be doing the same. Even unintentionally."

“I’m not, I know they're not part of the circus' decor” you said softly.

“I just think they’re beautiful. I want to turn them into something that lasts. Flowers that don’t wilt.” That same unconscious reaction rippled through him again. His chest expanded, shoulders squaring beneath the long coat as if presenting himself. The flush returned above his collar. A low, resonant sound started in his throat, that same velvet purr-coo from earlier. It filled the enclosed space of the tent, wrapping around you like warm hands.

Doctor caught it this time and tried to stifle the sound, but it only deepened for a few seconds before fading into a quiet click. He looked almost embarrassed.

“You keep doing that...” you said, smiling despite the heat in your own face.

“Forgive me, it is… involuntary,” he admitted, voice rougher than usual.

“Praise of that nature triggers certain instincts I normally keep under strict control. I have strong theories that it's stronger when the praise comes from you” His eyes dropped to the feather in your fingers, then to the way you continued stroking it.

“You handle them with care. With appreciation. That is… dangerously appealing.” Doctor’s hand rose, hesitating only a moment before his gloved fingers brushed yours as he accepted the feather. The contact lingered. His chest puffed again, subtly proud, and that low thrumming purr returned, quieter now, almost private. He didn’t fight it this time.

“Sit. I’ll show you how to layer them so the natural curve becomes the petal shape you want.” You settled on a cushioned stool near the desk while he pulled up the chair opposite you. Doctor’s long fingers moved with surgical precision, demonstrating how to anchor the feather’s shaft without damaging the vane, how to layer three or four together to create depth and shimmer. Every time your hands brushed, or you murmured how soft and gorgeous the feathers felt, his posture would straighten and that pleased, instinctive trill would vibrate between you.

“You’re staring,” you teased gently.

“I am observing,” he corrected, though the purr undercut any clinical tone.

“Noting how the light catches in your eyes when you’re focused. Cataloguing the way your pulse quickens when I make that sound.” He tilted his head, the movement graceful and bird-like.

“You are not afraid of it. Of me. That is… rare.”

“I like it” you confessed.

“The sound." Another loose crimson feather slipped free from beneath his collar and drifted onto the desk between you like a deliberate gift.

Outside a distant voice rose. Pierrot calling your name. Doctor made no move to end the moment. Instead, he reached across the small workspace and gently tucked one of the finished feather flowers behind your ear, his gloved fingers brushing your cheek.

“Stay a while longer” he murmured, voice low and warm beneath the continuous thrumming courtship sound.“The others can wait. I find I am not yet finished examining you”

Pierrot kept searching for you.

Doctor’s eyes flicked toward the tent flap. His posture stiffened, but he did not pull away from where the two of you sat close at the desk, half-finished feather flowers scattered between you. That low, thrumming purr still vibrated steadily in his chest, now laced with a protective edge.

Then something shifted in the air. A warm, spiced scent began to roll off him in slow waves. It filled the soft-lit tent, heavy and unmistakable. Outside, the footsteps slowed. A muttered conversation drifted through the canvas, too low to make out clearly, before Harlequin’s voice rose just enough

“…No. Not tonight. He’s… you know what that means. We don’t interrupt when the scent comes this strong. Not unless we want trouble.”

Doctor exhaled, the sound clinical yet relieved.

“Wise of them. I am… preoccupied. They will not return.”He turned back to you. The eyes behind the beak mask were darker now, pupils wide. His gloved hands flexed on the desk before he spoke again, voice precise and measured, as though dictating notes.

“You are flushed. Elevated heart rate. Dilated pupils. I would like to examine you. Properly. For… scientific purposes. To better understand why my instincts respond so strongly to your praise” There was no practiced seduction in his words. Only blunt honesty wrapped in the safety of medical language. He had never done this before. Never courted. Never touched anyone with intent. The clinical framing was the only way he knew how to proceed. You nodded, pulse quickening.

“Turn around” he instructed quietly.

“Face the examination table. You will not look at me directly. It is… safer this way. For both of us.” You obeyed, standing and turning. The table was cool beneath your palms as you leaned forward slightly. Behind you, Doctor’s coat rustled. He stepped close enough that the heat of his taller body radiated against your back without full contact.

“Clinical observation only” he murmured, more to himself than to you, as if reminding himself of the rules. His gloved hands settled lightly on your shoulders first, clinical and steady. 

“Breathing steady. Good.” Then the contact grew bolder, he slid one hand slowly down your side, mapping the curve of your waist as though measuring for a procedure. The other rested at the nape of your neck.His chest pressed against your upper back, broad and warm through the layers of his coat. The low purr returned, deeper now, vibrating directly into you.

“You handled my feathers with such care" he said, voice tight with concentration.

“Repeated tactile stimulation. Compliments. It triggered… a persistent arousal response. I need to catalog the mirrored effect in you."

His hips rolled forward experimentally, pressing the hard line of his clothed erection against the curve of your ass. The movement was awkward at first, unpracticed, almost mechanical, before instinct smoothed it into a slow, deliberate grind. Even fully dressed, the size and heat of him were unmistakable. The fabric of his coat created delicious friction as he rocked against you. A shaky breath left him. 

“Fascinating. Increased pressure here produces measurable tremor in your frame.” Another slow roll of his hips, firmer this time, trapping you gently between the table and his body. 

“Your scent is changing. Warmer. Sweeter.” He didn’t know how to talk dirty. Instead he narrated like a physician lost in discovery, voice husky and clinical while his body moved with growing need.

One arm was wrapped around your front, his gloved hand splaying possessively over your lower stomach to hold you steady as he rutted slowly, deliberately against you. The thick ridge of his cock dragged along the seam of your clothing with every controlled thrust, the layers between you only heightening the teasing ache.You pressed back against him and he made a soft, startled click in his throat.

“Reciprocal pressure,” he breathed, almost awed. 

“Yes. Like that.” His hips snapped forward a little harder, losing some of their careful rhythm. The mask prevented any kisses, but he lowered his head until the cool beak rested against the side of your neck, breathing you in. 

“You are responding beautifully. Elevated temperature. Muscle tension consistent with pre-orgasmic state. I- I have never…” The confession trailed off into another deep, involuntary trill.

His chest puffed against your back, proud even now. The dry humping grew more insistent, long, grinding strokes that rubbed his clothed length firmly between your cheeks, seeking friction and pressure while his hand kept you pinned gently in place.

“Tell me if it becomes too much” his voice had gone rough. 

“I do not wish to harm you. But the instinct to… mount and claim is very strong when you smell like this.” His free hand slid lower, pressing over your front, feeling the way your body reacted to each deliberate roll of his hips. The teal tent felt smaller, warmer, filled with the sound of his purring trill and the soft rhythmic rustle of fabric as the Doctor lost himself in his first real experience of intimate touch. He pressed closer, hips working in a steady, rolling rhythm, the hard heat of him grinding persistently against you while he catalogued every gasp and shiver like precious data.

Doctor’s arm tightened around your waist, gloved hand splayed possessively over your lower abdomen as he pulled you flush against him. The hard, thick ridge of his cock pressed insistently between your cheeks through layers of fabric, rutting with growing urgency. His hips rolled in long, deliberate strokes. Clinical at first, then increasingly desperate as instinct overtook precision.

“Observable increase in friction response,” he murmured against the side of your neck, the cool beak of his mask brushing your skin. His voice was rough and strained. 

“Your body is accommodating the pressure beautifully. Temperature elevated… breathing pattern fragmented” The low, thrumming purr in his chest never stopped. It vibrated through his torso and into your back, deep and resonant, growing louder each time he ground forward. He rutted harder, hips snapping with more force. Every thrust dragged his clothed length firmly along your ass, the friction hot and relentless despite all the barriers between you.You moaned softly and pushed back against him. Doctor’s breath hitched sharply.

“Reciprocal movement- ngh noted” His free hand slid down, pressing between your legs from the front, cupping and rubbing you through your clothes in time with his thrusts. 

“You are close. I can feel it in the tension of your musculature.” He adjusted his angle slightly, driving upward so the thick head of his cock rubbed right against the most sensitive spot with every roll of his hips. The motion was no longer purely experimental, it was needy, almost animalistic, his broad chest puffed and feathers rustling faintly beneath his coat as he chased the building pleasure.The purr fractured into short, desperate trills.

“I… I am approaching peak response” he warned, clinical even now, though his voice trembled. 

“Unable to suppress- you are too receptive. Too warm. Keep pressing back exactly like that" His hips stuttered, losing rhythm as he rutted faster, grinding hard and deep against your ass. The pressure, the heat, the constant vibration of his chest, and the way his gloved fingers rubbed you firmly from the front all coiled tighter and tighter inside you.Doctor’s trill rose in pitch. 

“Let go. I need to feel you come while I-" You shattered first. Pleasure crashed over you in heavy waves, thighs shaking as you moaned and pressed back hard against his grinding cock. Your body clenched and trembled through the orgasm, soaking the front of your clothes where his hand kept rubbing you through it.

The moment he felt you come, Doctor let out a broken, deep growling sound and thrusted forward one final time, hips jerking erratically. His cock pulsed hard against your ass as he came, thick and prolonged, flooding the inside of his cloak with wet heat you could feel even through the fabric. He kept grinding through it in short, shallow thrusts, as if trying to push his release deeper into you despite every barrier. The purr vibrated so strongly it felt like it rattled your bones.For several long seconds the only sounds in the tent were your ragged breathing and his continuous, satisfied trill.

Doctor’s forehead came to rest against the back of your shoulder. His arms remained wrapped around you, holding you steady while his hips gave one last lazy roll, savoring the warm, sticky aftermath.

“…Extraordinary,” he whispered, voice hoarse but still carrying that clinical wonder. 

“Mutual orgasm achieved through non-penetrative friction alone. Endorphin response in both subjects markedly elevated. I will… need to document the exact stimuli later.” He stayed pressed against your back for a long moment, unwilling to separate. One gloved hand stroked slowly over your stomach in soothing circles while the other gently eased its pressure between your legs, now petting rather than rubbing.

“Stay here,” he said quietly. 

“The scent will keep the others away a while longer. I would like to… observe the afterglow.” A soft, content trill rolled through his chest as he nuzzled the side of your neck with the cool edge of his mask, the closest thing he could manage to a kiss.

Pierrot (doglike beast) is affectionate in his obsession. He’ll shove his clothes onto your body, rubbing his thick scent into your skin until it sinks deep enough to never fully wash away. He bites and claws with playful brutality, growling against your throat. He only stops when you’re trembling and soaked for him.

Harlequin (reptile) is mercilessly territorial. He marks you constantly — vicious bites, deep scratches, and possessive bruises — not caring about who sees. Even when the others are in the room, he’ll pin you down and drag his fangs across your flesh just to hear you whimper his name. His claim is violent, and humiliating.

TT (water creature) keeps you leashed by proximity and control. He forces you to stay within reach at all times, adjusting your clothes until you’re dressed to his exact standards. His pin must always sit against your chest like a brand. Behave, and he may reward you with his bite. Disobey, and those same teeth will carve reminders you won’t forget.

Doctor (avian creature) is the most deceptively gentle — and therefore the most unsettling. He will never break your skin. Instead he drowns you in his scent, rubbing his feathers over every inch of you until you reek of him. He presses loose feathers into your pockets, your hair, even under your clothes, expecting you to carry pieces of him everywhere. “You’ll thank me,” he coos softly, “when the others smell only me on you.”

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

Pierrot will follow his father's steps and die of heartbreak.

At first, Pierrot maintains the mask. He still pretends in front of Jester, still performs the old routines, but the joy is gone.

He begins leaving small traces of MC everywhere: a ribbon tied around his wrist, a pressed flower from their last walk tucked into his collar, a half-finished letter addressed to you that he never completes. He talks to the empty air sometimes, soft murmurs in the voice he once reserved only for you. “You’d laugh at this, wouldn’t you?”

As weeks bleed into months, the heartbreak gets worse and Pierrot grows physically frailer.

He starts “forgetting” safety in performances. Each time, Jester intervenes, sometimes physically hauling him out of danger.

He writes letters to you that grow more incoherent, the pages filled with doodles of your face, pressed flowers, and apologies for not being enough to keep you here.

Harlequin will become a hollow shell of himself once again, just as he was before he met you.

If you helped him rebuild his relationship with Pierrot, he will turn bitterly against him. Every attempt Pierrot makes to cheer him up will only remind him of your absence. He’ll hiss and snap at any physical contact, rejecting it violently. He wants no pity, no sympathy, no gentle words. He's fine. Or so he claims.  

In truth, he begins to fade. He eats less, retreats straight to his tent after every show, and speaks to almost no one. He will never be the same after losing you. Some nights he catches himself thinking you were a mistake… only to drown in regret moments later.

TT remains silent for a long time. He knew this day would come, yet the pain in his chest still catches him off guard. After Columbina’s death, he barely processed anything until Jester stepped up as leader. 

Now that his life has returned to what it was before you, it no longer feels familiar.  He misses your warmth on the rare nights he let you sleep beside him. He misses finding coffee already waiting for him in the morning. He misses the soft way you used to wake him — a gentleness that made even his usual morning grumpiness fade.

Doctor throws himself deeper into his experiments, or at least tries to. He misses you constantly. He can’t look at another human without seeing your face. 

In the months following your death, he grows irritable, broody, and aggressive toward troublesome visitors. He doesn’t know how to process your loss. You were his partner, his mate. He knows he will never find someone like you again… and he has no desire to.

Jester takes it better than the others — not because he cared for you any less, but because he has grown used to losing the people he loves. He remembers you with a quiet tenderness. He keeps the book you kept insisting he read (the one he never opened while you were alive).  He also still keeps the collar he once used on you. Sometimes, when he’s alone, he looks at it with a small, sincere smile.

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I hope you liked it! ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა

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The circus monsters have an unspoken pack of hierarchy.

On quiet nights the group sometimes piles together Doctor’s big nest, even if they aren’t romantically involved the scent-sharing is their version of therapy.

All monsters are hypersensitive to loud noises, sudden weather shifts, and strong smells. The clowns’ masks act as sensory filters, they are like a “second skin”.

Doctor was abandoned by his parents at age 2–3 once they deemed him capable of independent hunting. He grew up without spoken language or social structure, resulting in difficulty of talking.

His nest is sacred. It’s a massive pile of stolen blankets and clothing in his tent or his trailer. When someone joins the circus and earns his trust, he steals a piece of their clothing and carefully put it in his nest.

The scents calm his constant loneliness; losing access to a familiar scent (Harlequin’s for example) can send him into a depressive spiral.

Doctor has poor temperature regulation. He prefers enclosed, dark spaces and often curls around colder bodies for comfort.

Doctor’s “medical” practice is genuine care and instinctive butchery. He can set bones perfectly but might lick your wounds clean.

If you told him about grnny’s home remedies he might test them.

Columbina was sweet and angelic in appearance and voice, but an absolute chaos.

She’d flirt shamelessly, pull pranks with Harlequin, and still be the first to comfort someone crying in the corner.

Her laughter was infectious and slightly unhinged. She could turn a tense situation into a lighthearted one with a single joke or gesture.

Columbina collected shiny or pretty things (buttons, ribbons, broken jewelry) and decorated the others with them. She also had a habit of “blessing” people by dropping petals or small bones on their heads from above.

TT and Jester are both drawn to softer, adaptable personalities. Strong-headed types create too much friction and wouldn’t last long term.

They need someone who can read their moods and offer quiet reassurance rather than a challenge.

Both feel deep, conflicted guilt if a partner casually accepts their violence toward humans. This can lead to testing the partner’s loyalty.

Angst Headcanons

Jester’s trauma: During one of the Ringmaster’s punishments, Jester was locked in a small cage. A fire (accidental or deliberate) broke out.

TT and Doctor learned to keep him away from open flames.

Jester originally traveled with Doctor because the monster was terrifying to both humans and other monsters, while Doctor gained someone who could plan hunts more strategically.

Their partnership was born of mutual survival, not care.

Jester is capable of defending himself, but traveling alone left him injured and exhausted. He still has scars from those times.

TT keeps a dried flower Columbina gave him. Doctor helped seal it with resin.

On bad nights, TT holds it.

Before the Ringmaster arrived and humans began crowding their territory, the group lived in relative peace.

The loss of that innocence weighs heavily on all of them.

Harlequin still curls up on rough nights, instinctively leaving space on the bed for Pierrot, who used to press against him as kids. His absence still aches.

Doctor becomes lonelier if you bond with Harlequin and/or Pierrot. They were his only consistent social contacts. Harlequin as occasional company and Pierrot as another “innocent” presence. Watching you take that comfort away hurts him. He may start leaving small “gifts” at your door as a silent plea.

Pierrot has moments of mutism where he just stares blankly, replaying memories of better times. Only Harlequin or Jester can usually pull him out.

NSFW / Instinct Headcanons

All monsters are intersex, shifting anatomy that adapts to their partners and cycles. Gender presentation is irrelevant to them, on the other hand; scent, behavior, and emotional connection matter more.

They experience seasonal rut/heat cycles. For most, the window is roughly April–August.

During their season they feel heightened libido and possessiveness, but the peak rut (aggressive, territorial) and heat (needy, fertile) each last about a week. Timing varies slightly from individuals.

Doctor and Pierrot mate for life. Once bonded, they become physically distressed when separated for too long from their partner.

A mating mark is involved, visible and permanent.

Harlequin is a tease and playful during normal times, but becomes surprisingly gentle and focused during his partner’s heat.

Jester is rough and vocal, craving obedience while also being possessive.

TT is servicial and controlling in a caring way. He wants to take care of every need so thoroughly his partner can’t think.

Doctor’s feral side comes out strongest during rut: more biting, scent-marking, and low growling.

He gets overwhelmed easily and needs a patient partner who can handle his intensity without fear.

Columbina (if she was alive) would be adventurous and love incorporating aerial silk elements into intimate moments.

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I hope you liked it~ ૮꒰˶ᵔ ° ᵔ˶꒱ა

Tags: angst, breakdown, unrequited, past trauma, bad thoughts, blood, corpses, death, Pierrot/Reader, one-sided Harlequin/Reader

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Heartbroken was a strong word, and not what he was feeling. He felt deceived, perhaps shocked? Made more sense than heartbroken, what a silly word it was, as if a human would ever break his heart.

You and Pierrot laugh inside the tent. What a disgusting sound, dog wasn't even funny, is that what you like? A dog that will follow you even after being kicked?

He was not mad; he hadn't lost. You followed him into the tent, didn't reject his pin. What a cruel little thing you were, trying to play with both of them when you're the one he's playing with… It was a matter of time before you finally succumbed to him; you had no choice but to. The Pierrot was too naive, he would never be what you truly needed.

He peeked through a torn piece of Pierrot's private tent, and then he saw it. He saw you and Pierrot being disgustingly romantic, kissing and making promises of undying love.

As if humans were capable of loving a monster… They were merely opportunistic, no human ever looked back twice, far too many times he had lived through that, he had heard stories of humans and monsters who claimed to love each other, only for one to be stabbed in return.

A human and a monster, they were two worlds, completely different, never meant to be together. How many times has he been told about those supposed "lovers" that ended up hanging the skulls of his kind as thropies, how many betrayals in the hands of humans…

So why? Why did it sting? What was different this time?

You were nothing more than entertainment, you would shy away if he got close, just as many did before, he wanted to slither into your bed and devour you in every sense of the word, nothing more, nothing less.

Yet there you were, touching Pierrot's cheek so lovingly, without fear or disgust, he could almost see the shine in your eyes. Disgusting.

Harlequin's smile faltered, not completely, but you could tell it was not his usual smile.

Why am I not good enough?

You're attractive, but not enough for me to love you. You're friendly, but not enough for me to be your friend even after you made a mistake. You're talented, but not enough for you to be recognized.

Not enough, never enough, something is always lacking, doesn't matter, where, when, or with whom, always something is missing. Because I'm not enough, I'll never be enough. Always cursed to hate, to despise my loved ones when they get something I want. Maybe it's my ego, why would I think I deserve it? They deserve it, but it hurts, it hurts that it isn't me, I want it to be me, just once, I just want to be enough for something, someone, to simply exist, be myself, and have that be enough.

Why have I never felt that? Not with my parents, not with companions. Why am I strange? Doctor says I'm not, but then why? Why can't I have something? Anything? Just for me. Why can't I be chosen for once?

Harlequin left the scene silently, locked himself inside his private tent with a Fool. He didn't come out for the next 2 days after that, coming out with tired eyes and a strained smile.

"Oh~ how strange to see you without your guard dog". Harlequin approached you slowly, you could sense something was off about him, but can't quite pinpoint what it is.

You try to reply, only to be cut off by him.

"If that bobo is busy, I'm sure you'd be delighted to keep me company for the time being. I have a new show I want to practice if you'd like to be my audience~". You gave him a look, surely you don't mind as Pierrot was taking longer than you expected, besides, Harlequin might like to toy with you, but he would never hurt you.

You followed him to his tent, the walk there is strangely silent, no teasing, no jokes-nothing, just the sounds of your steps.

"You look tense kitten". There was an edge to his voice that made your skin crawl, it wasn't his usual tease, somehow it felt... predatory.

"Are you okay Harlequin? You seem off..." Harlequin chuckled at you, you felt as though he were mocking the question, as if the answer was obvious to anyone but you.

"Never been better dearest". With that he lets you into his tent, the air was cold, a heavy scent fills your lungs, it smells rotten, metallic. "Hm? You should get used to it, look closely".

With a confused look you gaze upon the source, a human corpse on top of the table, wide open, blood was everywhere, it looks like someone hat taken bites out of it. You felt like vomiting.

"What an interesting face, it looks almost as if you didn't know... Wait, he didn't tell you did he~? Oh poor little human, you didn't even know our teeth were made to tear through the skin of your kind~". You feel his hands on your shoulders, his touch demanding, making you stay in place, even if you wanted to or not, making you stare at the body of what looked like a Fool.

"You know what we are, and now... You know what we eat... Do you still want to kiss a monster's mouth dearest?" He makes you look at him, his eyes shining an intoxicating green, you can see his sharp teeth and serpent-like tongue, the sight making you nauseous.

"You're breaking my heart..." His tone sounds teasing but on edge. He let you go with an amused look. "Will you go running to your doggy now that you know the truth?"

No. No you would not.

You were human, after all, who would stay after such sight? He watched as you fled from the scene, his smile fell once more.

In truth, he couldn't recall what happened after that. He could remember Pierrot's screams and claws tearing through his costume and rough skin.

He only remembered the red on the floor, the cold, and his eyes growing heavy.

Now he knew you were just like the others. You were never special. He was protecting the circus, protecting his family, and protecting himself.

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Thank you so much for reading! 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯