The bar door shuts behind you with a hollow clang, leaving the faint murmur of drunken laughter to fade into the distance. You adjust the collar of your coat and start down the rain-slicked street, the neon above painting your steps in fractured shades of green and red.
When you look up, you see the familiar face of a woman you cannot truly shake. An umbrella tilts above her shoulder, black fabric shining with rain. She doesn’t look like she belongs on this planet, or any planet, really. She looks like she belongs in some half-remembered dream, violet eyes catching you first, that smirk settling second.
“You’re out late.” she says, voice smooth, as though you’re old friends meeting by chance.
Your breath hitches, but you make your voice flat. “...Kafka.”
She fakes a frown. “How sad. You used to call my name a lot softer then.”
You should turn away, but you don’t. Your pulse pounds, your body heavy with the kind of exhaustion only memory can bring. “Why are you here?”
“Why not?” she replies, stepping closer, closing her umbrella with a soft snap. Softly shaking her hair to shake off the dew, threads of wine colored hair catching the dull streetlight. “Maybe I was curious. Maybe I wanted to see if you’re still the same.”
You narrow your eyes. “Don’t play games. I already left.”
Her gaze softens almost imperceptibly. “To chase a different kind of script, wasn’t it? To believe in something written in stars instead of Elio’s words.”
“I asked you to come with me.”
“And you already knew my answer.”
The reminder still hurts you deep. You glance away, blinking against the sting in your eyes.
You swallow hard. The ache in your chest is familiar, unwelcome. “Then what do you want from me?”
Kafka only tilts her head, watching you with eyes that see far too much. “A walk, maybe. Humor me?”
You should refuse. But your body betrays you, the same way it always has around her. So you turn, and she falls into step beside you.
The drizzle thickens as you walk. Her umbrella stays shut, dangling from her fingers; she makes no effort to shield herself, and soon, droplets cling to her skin.
And It’s too easy. The rhythm of your steps aligns, the silence between you dense but not hostile, it was the same familiarity as before.
She breaks it first. “Do they treat you well? The Astral Express.”
You glance at her sidelong. “They’re like family to me, it’s different.”
Her smile is faint. “I always wondered if you’d find somewhere like that.”
Something twists in your gut. “And what about you? Still running errands for Elio’s grand future?”
“Of course.” Her voice is light, but her eyes are unreadable. “Someone has to keep the universe in line.”
“You don’t have to,” you say before you can stop yourself. “You could—”
“Leave?” she finishes for you, amusement curling at the edges of her lips. “Run away with you? You know better than that.”
You say nothing, biting back words you can’t afford to say…
“You still furrow your brows when you’re thinking,” she murmurs, eyes flicking downward.
You scowl, furrowing your brows even more. “And you still notice too much.”
Her laugh is low, smooth, dangerous. “Perhaps I just remember too much.”
The silence stretches, heavy with all that lingers unspoken.
You silently look at her, and for a moment you see not the Stellaron Hunter, but the woman who used to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with you, trading intimacy and secrets in the dim light of the temporary apartments you’ve stayed at. You quietly sigh as your shoes splash through shallow puddles, her perfume clinging to the damp air between you.
“Do you ever think about it?” you ask suddenly.
“About what?”
“What it used to be like.”
Kafka tilts her head, violet eyes half-lidded. “Of course I do. I remember how you used to stay up with me when I couldn’t sleep. How you’d be so serious with the others. How you’d sit with me, just… existing. That was nice.”
She says it so casually, as if recounting a dream. You took a deep breath but when you exhale it’s shallow. Aeon’s, you’ve missed her. It’s not fair how she’s doing so well while you’re here still hurting and aching from the past. But you don’t get to say that when you were the first one to leave.
You stopped walking. “Why are you really here, Kafka?” The question slips out raw, almost broken. When you say it you realize you’ve stopped in front of the hotel you were staying,
She stops aswell but just two steps ahead of you. Her gaze flickers, her smirk faltering for the barest second. She exhales, tilting her head back to let the drizzle hit her face. “Because I missed you.”
The words dig deep. You swallow against the tightness in your throat. “Then don’t leave. Stay here tonight. Just talk to me. Like… like before.”
Her eyes meet yours again, violet cutting into the dark. For a moment, something fragile trembles there, something she doesn’t let anyone see.
She steps closer, her hand lifting as if to touch your cheek, but at the last second, it falls back to her side.
“You make it too easy,” she whispers. “Talking to you like this.”
“Then stay, please.” you say, you begged.
Her smile curves back into place but it’s wounded. “You know it’s not possible.”
For a moment, it feels almost natural like this is the part where you’d say goodnight, where she’d tease you with one more sharp remark before slipping away. Except there’s nothing natural about this. Not anymore.
“Will you atleast come inside?”
Her smirk tilts, faint and elusive. “Would you let me?”
You look at her with a soft smile and an expression that reads ‘is that really a question?’
“I would.” you admit softly.
She doesn’t say anything. A shadow crosses her gaze, her hand tightening around the umbrella handle as though anchoring herself. She steps closer, close enough for the faint perfume clinging to her hair to reach you, that same familiar scent that once clung to your clothes, your sheets.
Her voice lowers. “You really shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why not? It’s the truth.”
“The truth makes me selfish,” she murmurs. And this time, her gloved hand does rise, fingers brushing the line of your jaw, trailing against damp skin. The touch is feather light, achingly delicate.
Your heart stutters. You instinctively lean into her then you whisper, “Kafka… come with me. Just this once. Forget Elio, forget the script, forget—”
Her hand moves, pressing a single finger against your lips. That smile, the one she always wears when she’s about to break your heart, curves faintly.
“Shh.” Her voice is velvet, quiet enough that the rain nearly swallows it. “Don’t say any more.”
You grab her wrist, desperate. “It doesn’t have to be hard. You can choose—”
Her gaze sharpens, pained and resolute all at once. And then she says it.
“Listen.”
The word cuts clean through you, low and commanding, yet trembling with something she refuses to show.
Your grip falters.
Her eyes glow faintly, violet light shimmering in their depths as her whisper slides into your mind like a silk thread pulling tight:
Forget this. Forget me, tonight. Forget the way it felt to stand here with me. You’ll wake and it will be nothing but a dream. A beautiful, fleeting dream.
You fight it, heart pounding, but her power is inexorable.. warm, honeyed, irresistible. Your limbs grow heavy, thoughts unraveling. The last thing you feel is her hand still at your cheek, the thumb brushing lightly as though memorizing you.
And her voice, breaking ever so slightly beneath its velvet veneer:
Sleep without pain.
The world fades.
When you open your eyes the next morning, sunlight slips through the blinds of your hotel room. Your coat hangs over a chair, damp from last night’s rain. You frown faintly, trying to recall the walk back from the bar, but the memory slips away like water through your fingers.
All that lingers is a strange warmth in your chest, and the vague impression that you dreamed of someone beautiful. You got out of bed like any other day.
cw: fluff/angst. fem! reader. pre “loss of humanity”aglaea in the beginning. mention of death. my short interpretation of her falling to her death. (have not caught up with the story, don’t shoot me)
you lay your head beside algaea’s, her colorful orbs greets yours with a pure look of devotion and appreciation. her naked body seeks for yours under the thick covet, looking to bathe in your soothing radiance. slim arms slide around your waist with intentions of not letting go for the night. you’re everything that helps ease her restless bones, the pesky woes and fears stirring in the cavity that is the cage of her bleeding heart.
“ now that i’m looking at those jewels of yours, “ the playful curl of your lips made algaea’s warm smile slowly straighten. she’s already anticipating a incoming jest from you. “ they’ve sunken in quite a bit from the lack of sleep, huh? “
“ ugh, “ aglaea exerts out a offended sound, lightly smacking your back. you just chortle in response. “ i knew it. must you spoil the moment? “
your lips spread into a smug grin, pretty teeth baring. she rolls her eyes, begrudgingly recognizing how memorizing you look under the glow of the moonlight. “ i wasn’t trying to, dearest. i wanted to add some comedy. “
“ a good jester knows when it is the appropriate time to add “comedy.” “ the golden trout replies sassily, riding one of her palms up the curve of your back and stops on the nape of your neck. your hand finds a place on her hip, rubbing the area in circular motions. your eyes turn half-lidded, leaning in to share a chaste kiss with aglaea. she meets you in the middle.
“ well, jokes aside, you’ve been appearing a little troubled lately and the three musketeers told me about your little sleeping problem. i regret not coming to your aid sooner, aglaea. “ you muttered, draping your arm fully around her hip. a tired sigh escapes her reddened lips that you kiss again. you’re aware of aglaea’s decision on taking the coreflame of romance and her worries about sacrifices and duties of becoming a demi-god. it’ll be a lot of responsibility threatening to weigh squarely on her shoulders. you should have been more attentive to her and her health despite the tedious schedule with handling your shop. aglaea, albeit an honorable woman, is still human.
“ yes, but it’s quite alright. you came at the right time actually. .” she utters between sweet kisses that loosens the tension pulling at her heart strings. “ i’ve been craving your presence for quite some time now. tonight was perfect. . “
you languidly move in tandem with her lips, running your hand up her side tenderly. a shiver skates down her back. the blonde’s breath audibly hitches and she grips your nape firmer. ignoring, the lack of space between you and her, you still squish her body into yours.
your soft skin presses against hers, your warmth swallows hers—aglaea’s bones become malleable like gold as your essence flow into her. it feels tangible.
this is the humanity she wants to cling onto the very end after turning into a demi-god.
“ i love you so. “ aglaea confesses in a passionate whisper. you smile happily against her lips.
in that night, aglaea fell into a restful slumber.
it wasn’t much different from the fateful day she fell to her demise.
aglaea lets the dagger plunge into her back and she tumbles off the edge. wind flows through her blonde curls, a noticeable rush of adrenaline runs through her veins like ichor, and although her heart isn’t beating aggressively into her chest like a normal human’s heart would in this situation, she still feels it beating fast.
she smiles.
her body is then harshly meant with the waters. gold (perhaps it’s her blood?) surrounds her form like she’s in a golden bath of divinity.
warmth.
aglaea immediately thinks of you and she smiles more sincerely with golden-stained lips.
upon closing her eyes and casting her final breath, she paints a picture of your figure patiently waiting for her in the end of the west winds.
cw: arles fat dick, breeding kink, creampie, dryhumping, cunnilingus, tit job, the usual arlecchino menu on this blog.
context: i really don’t know what to put here after working on this for the past five months just hop in
word count is like 9k or so whatever man
Crack!
Another one of your experiments was now spreading over the table. A row of curses flying straight from your lips when your hand snatched up the first cloth within reach to clean the mess on the iron surface. Great. Now you had to dry off the bottoms of the other bottles as well.
This was your fourth attempt at trying to come after Sir Pierro‘s request, a poison strong enough to kill an elephant with a single drop and so far- it wasn‘t looking bright for you. With Project Stuzha now going into its main phase, your schedule was beyond filled from sunrise until the stars decided to light up the firmament outside the laboratory. It wasn’t rare for you to spend one, two or even three nights in a row on the sofa in your office that was directly linked to your personal facility. And you haven’t properly seen her for… a little over a week. At least four times a day there was a subordinate knocking at the heavy door to your workspace, only to ask if you may have any knowledge about your husband‘s whereabouts, when the harsh truth was that you haven’t even shared a bed together in almost a week. Being a center point of Project Stuzha, Arlecchino‘s days were packed from front to back with negotiations in- and out of town, carrying out Pierro‘s list of demands that will probably not find a foreseeable end in her lifetime and mountains of paperwork piling up and demanding her undivided attention seven days of the week. Therefore you didn’t blame her for the lack of contact during the last weeks, it was expected, something that was as natural as breathing for someone of her importance. You were just worried about her tendencies to neglect herself in the midst of her workload. It‘s all you have been thinking about lately. The curse thrumming through her veins slumbered at times before flaring up again like a volcano. Uncontrolled. Unpredictable. Often rendering her body weak in the process for multiple days in a row. That‘s why you started documenting the liveliness of the Bloodfire. What triggered the curse to act up. What soothes her the most. What is she supposed to do in such a case. There is a whole shelf resting in your office that is dedicated to her and the only thing you managed to take away from her was her daily night terrors. A special sleeping aid you conducted carefully over months worth of research since her curse seems to kill off anything that doesn’t belong into her blood circulation, including medication, so pills and syrups weren’t an option, you had to go with something external. It‘s an oil consisting of a distilled opium and a bunch of medical herbs she has to apply around her nose, the smell so sickening it would knock out even the strongest Fatui General but- it works. It works so good that it knocks her out cold for the night and allows her a full night‘s sleep. On the downside, she seems to have great troubles with getting out of bed the following morning, often claims to be experiencing a sore ache throughout her muscles which is why she only ever results to its use on really, really bad days. Days when you aren’t there to rub a calming, loving hand over her back while she breathes in the scent of you that sends her mind into a daze of comfort. Arlecchino often felt out of place in Teyvat. But never in her Wife‘s arms.
Yet, despite your busy schedule, something did not quite click today. Usually you were concentrated enough to get your projects done in time and keep up with requests and other appointments for testing, refining and what not but today something felt off. Missing.
As if you were forgetting an important puzzle piece. And it‘s been robbing you of every single logical thought for hours now.
Was it one of the children‘s birthdays? The designated calendar seemed to be clear of any anniversaries. Maybe you were supposed to update her Majesty on your progress? No, your schedule only told you that you were a whopping three hours behind. Hm, maybe you should‘ve gone through the pile of letters on your desk before they had a chance to form mountains on it… but it was too late to dig into them now anyways. You could swear the answer was resting somewhere in the back of your mind but breaking your head halfway through the day over this matter won’t get you anywhere.
But that feeling of unease lingered and it hindered your abilities greatly. A miscalculation here, measuring the wrong substances there- you were just about to rip out your hair when you realized you calculated with the wrong unit of measurement yet again when it knocked against the steel door of the lab.
With a sigh you pulled off the gloves from your sweaty hands to throw them in the garbage, „Come in.“, cleaning up the mess of your last experiments sounded like a good idea to get your mind to think of something else other than today‘s chain of failures.
But you did not expect Lyney to enter through the door out of all people. The snow on his Fatui Coat already melted on his way here through the facility, but his cheeks and nose were still the color of a tomato.
„Lyney?“, and just like that you disregarded everything that was of importance to you during the last minutes as you made your way over to your child, taking his face into your hands to wipe away the melted remains of Snezhnaya‘s weather on his skin, „Archon‘s you are freezing… are you wearing enough layers? Did you receive the sweaters your father got you and your siblings? Are you eating enough warm meals?“, you took the liberty to pull a little on his cheek which seemingly did little to soothe the young man’s embarrassment.
„M-Mother… I‘m fine… It‘s just storming again outside, nothing big…“, he gently patted your wrist before taking a step back, taking his hat off to comb his fingers through his hair, „Father merely asked me to check up on you, she was fearing that you were overworking yourself again.“
Very rich coming from her.
„Me? Overworking? I‘m just busy like she is.“, you nodded back at the mess behind you to undermine your sentence before you made your way over to your desk to quickly hide away the empty piled up cups of coffee that you have been collecting for a little over a week now.
„That is… not what I‘m referring to… I got a bunch of questions from her that she wanted me to ask you to ensure your wellbeing, mind if I do?“, he silently ticked the box Has been consuming unhealthy amounts of caffeine.
„Questions? Do I need to remind your father that we are around the same age and therefore both adults?“, of course it was nice that your husband still wanted to make sure that you were taking care of yourself but there were other ways for that.
„Please, discuss this with her and not me… She also mentioned something about letters she has sent you.“, he was a bit hesitant to directly point out the untouched envelopes next to you.
Did not open any of my letters. Ticked.
Okay, maybe you should have taken a look at the senders before just throwing them all onto the same stack.
„Letters, uh… Seems like they didn‘t make it all the way here… You know, the mailmen always had their troubles with finding the way to the labs.“, your husband‘s perfect handwriting before you on the desk almost seemed to be mocking you.
„Uh-huh… Are you eating three meals a da-“
„Honey, I do not have the time for this. Just tell your Father that I‘m alive, breathing and not malnurished. Here, I‘ll even sign a paper for you.“, you sigh, grabbing a random blank paper and a pen to start writing your little poem to her. Seriously, sending him over to interview you on her behalf. She must be a little off her senses herself.
„I guess that would also do for her. Besides, I have a little question myself for you, Mother.“, his hand ran over the plush of the chair that‘s been placed in front of your desk for eventual visitors. Now he was just wondering why you would store an entire months worth of coffee there.
„Go on… but it better not be about one of your magic tricks requiring a flammable substance again.“, the glare you sent up at him was enough for his finger to tug at the fabric of his sweater fitting around his neck, breathing out a nervous laugh, „N-No… I was just wondering if you remembered your wedding anniversary today-“
Time seemed to stop for you as the pen almost fell from your grip.
You began to hear the muffled sound of your increasing heartbeat as reality dawned on you. That‘s what has been making you feel off for the entire day.
It should‘ve clicked way earlier. Hell, you shouldn‘t even have forgotten it in the first place.
Your eyes glanced down to the ring adoring your hand that‘s been holding the paper down, the words seemingly starting to grow blurry. It was until a gentle hand came down on your shoulder when you looked up into your son‘s purple irises mustering you with a rare hint of worry etched into them.
„It‘s okay… Father didn‘t mention a single thing about having to run errands for your gifts during the last days so I guess she must have forgotten too…“, he gave you a soft smile as his hand squeezed your shoulder.
You only managed a look of disbelief.
„She… also forgot? Are you sure?“, for her out of all people to forget something as important as your wedding anniversary… Of course you were not mad, just a bit shocked to be fair.
„I can’t be certain… but usually she starts growing pretty frustrated during planning and is always out and about to choose gifts and a restaurant or maybe plan a whole trip but this time it‘s… well, the last two weeks have been pretty busy for her and she also just left for a negotiation but I think she did not realize the date approaching rather than completely forgetting it.“, that seemed to make more sense to you. Either way, you had to do something about this. You never missed an important date such as this one and you certainly won‘t start today.
„Where are you going? Don‘t you have projects to finish?“, he asked slightly bewildered as he watched you grab your coat from your chair before throwing it over your shoulders and closing it up.
„I‘m going to spend my anniversary with my husband of course. I can still finish up the rest some other time.“, she will always come first after all, you were already behind your schedule anyways.
„I suppose you came here by carriage?“
Sure he did. And he was by no means exaggerating about the snow storm raging through the lands of her Majesty. By the time you both reached the carriage your hair resembled a bird‘s nest and could only be hardly managed by combing your fingers through the knotted strands. The inside was luckily warmed up enough with a bunch of candles that you didn‘t have to think about dying of Hypothermia.
„Is there something else you want to talk about?“, you asked when you leaned back against the cushion of your seat when you heard the horses outside starting to move forward. He looked a little troubled at your question, if not a bit embarrassed which only had you nudging him with your elbow, „Go on, your Father isn‘t here. Just ask away, Lyney. I won‘t tell her if you don‘t want me to.“
„I-It‘s not that… We have just been wondering if… if you and Father have been planning to have a baby sometime in the future…“, his voice was reduced to a whisper by the time he finished his sentence and he tried to hide behind his hat too.
Okay. That was not a question you expected. At all.
You didn‘t make it obvious to him but the thought of it caused your heart to swell into an almost painful size. Of course you already had the babytalk but that was ages ago when you were just newlyweds and a lot of time has passed since then, but you both agreed that it was just simply too early for something as big as a baby. It was not just that. Crucabena left her scars on Arlecchino. While she wasn‘t against the idea, she had her doubts and even if she‘s already a Father to many children, having one of your own- one that was yours by blood- was something completely different. How could she be sure that she would make a good parent? Would her occupation with the Fatui even allow it? Was it worth the risk to put you through childbirth? Just too many variables that spoke against this decision at the time.
You had to breathe in before giving him an answer, „Dearest, this is sadly nothing I can truthfully tell you. And right now wouldn‘t be a good time for a baby anyways. Parenthood is nothing to be taken lightly and we are in the middle of getting Project Stuzha on two feet. I think she would probably never close her eyes ever again if I happened to get pregnant now and she is already overprotective enough. Or else you wouldn‘t be here.“, you chuckled lightly at the end, contaminating enough for the boy to join in.
„Seems logical…“
„How did you come up with that topic in the first place? Did she mention something in my absence?“, now it was you who grew curious. Lyney was never one to just ask stuff like this out of the blue. He must have a reason. Especially with how he immediately grew interested in the snowy landscape that could be seen through the window next to him.
„Lyney…“, your voice grew suspicious as you crossed your arms in front of your chest. He was definitely trying to leave a detail out.
„Please… d-don‘t tell her but around three weeks ago, Sir Childe seemed to have misunderstood something. A General revealed her pregnancy back then and he probably only found out through some rumor that must have spread around after the incident. Well… that rumor did involve you… and that you were hiding a pregnancy…“.
Great, how you only found out about this now. Downside of barely working in the Palace like your Husband does.
„Pregnant, huh? How come I only get to find out about this now?“, you said with gritted teeth before pulling on Lyney‘s cheek, making him whine out as he begged you to let go, „I-I‘m sorry, I‘m sorry-! I thought Father or Sir Childe a-already told you-!“.
You sighed as you let go of him to rub the bridge of your nose, „Unbelievable… but to answer your question- no. Your Father and I don’t… have a baby planned…“, yet, „but if your Father already debunked said rumor… how come you came up with this…?“, you raised an eyebrow as you looked right through him. No way he‘d still ask if she already handled the situation.
„How… H-How do I say this…“, he stammered as he scratched his neck, trying to build a sentence in his head that doesn‘t come off as delusional, „It was probably nothing but… I was in the room with her when Sir Childe bursted in with the news. I… I-It was probably my imagination, but Father looked… thrilled for a moment… almost ecstatic… but again, it was just for the blink of an eye, maybe something with the lightning…“, he strictly avoided eye contact the more your eyes narrowed at his explanation.
You just hoped he didn’t hear your heart threatening to beat out of your chest.
The truth is that you stopped taking birth control ages ago, with your Husband’s knowledge of course, she didn’t have any complaints about it at the time. Actually you just thought there was no point in taking it any longer, the hormones messed with your system and there were always other alternatives, you just switched back to condoms- well… wanted to. Most of the time you are actually forgetting it- or rather leaving it out.
But perhaps a little talk was overdue.
The Knave‘s office was always tidy with barely a speck of dust inside. The desk carved of flame-resistant Flammabomb Wood was already intimidating on itself, spreading widely across a span of around two meters, enough space for paperwork and other files to lie comfortably on the side with still enough space for the Harbinger to attend her workload. Besides the occasional stacks of paper neatly arranged on the left and waiting to be worked off, there was little utensils being almost perfectly organized in the middle. A fine fountain pen from Fontaine, engraved with her Name in a cursive gold, a crystalline inkpot resting next to it along with a ruler and a few colorful pens with each color having a different use. She mostly uses them for the children‘s homework and reports.
Besides that, there were a few files resting on the right. Almost all of them contained classified informations about a few certain businessmen. You’d bet your research on it that these contained the dirt on each of their hands. Arlecchino was as neat as always with her work. You liked that about her. Loved it, in fact. She always puts all her effort into each task, never slacking off, never making mistakes. That included your marriage. As Husband, Peruere was perfect in every way. While she might not be the most emotional person, she never let that hinder her ability to show how dearly she loves you. Regular dinner dates -even if your schedule sometimes only allows it once every few weeks-, lovely bouquets getting delivered to your workplace with even lovelier messages attached to them, taking you shopping at the most random times (she just knows when you are in a bad mood) or treating you to a massage at the end of a hard day, no matter how exhausted she herself is. There will always be time for you and the children. You are the anchor amidst her life, when her curse is once again flaring up, banging at the back of her mind and pulsing through her veins, reminding her that she herself is but an error in the already faulted system of Teyvat- you are what keeps her sane, alive.
Arlecchino often lets rank speak first whenever it comes to diplomatic matters, but her first and most important title will always be Husband. Your Husband. She took the kind of pride in that ring on her finger as others may shelter it for their most important accomplishments in life. That‘s the kind of person she was. A Spouse to her wonderful Wife.
It was the same reason she kept a certain picture on her desk. A picture of you. She wasn’t in the frame itself but rather the one behind it and if the whole palace decided to burn to ashes one day, it will be this particular photo that she will take with her to safety.
It was shot on a rather warm evening at the beach in Morte Region, your damp hair was dirty with sand from taking a sunbath at the shore and the slightest evidence of a sunburn was visible on your shoulders despite Arlecchino‘s efforts to cover you up in sunscreen. You weren’t exactly smiling when she took the photo but a rather startled expression was etched into your face, making it look all the more natural. The camera was originally gifted to her by Freminet on Winter Solstice and to be honest- she never found any use to it until a few months later when you talked her into spending a day away from the duties of the Hearth, just the two of you.
You were too beautiful to not save the moment for all eternity. So ethereal, so glowing. The gloom of sunset drowning you in a beautiful orange as your hair was clinging to your wet skin while you looked at your Husband as if she just asked you to marry her all over again. She almost did that, too.
You had her promise to show this particular portrait to absolutely nobody- in your eyes, you looked chaotic, dirty with sea water and sand all over you, but to her…
You were the warmth people looked for on a freezing winter night. The type of person people name whole stars after. The type of person they write love poems about.
You looked exactly like what she saw you as. The love of her life.
The fingers you ran across the frame stilled as you heard footsteps approaching, only for them to start fading away again. According to her schedule laying on the desk, she should get out of the negotiations any minute by now so you took the liberty of getting comfortable in her seat. And you often didn’t envy her but… archons… you could fall asleep like this… and once boredom took over you were already flipping through the classified files on your right. Turns out that the names matched up with those scribbled down on her schedule and you weren’t exactly a gossip but… money laundering, cheating on his wife, drug dealing… She sure must have gotten them to sweat.
Thinking about sweating… it‘s been a while since she had you-
The sheer thought of it alone caused your core to ache. One thing you found out about lately was to never give into what you perceived as your more degenerate thoughts but the lack of sex lately did contribute to your awful workflow. And you hated it. Hated how the memories of her cock bullying into you tormented you late at night when you were supposed to work on your projects and not even your fingers were enough to satiate this thirst inside of you. There was one time where you even painfully grinded your leaking pussy over the edge of your table, having to delude yourself that it was actually her knee you were using as a grinding pad, it was quite literally a dire situation for you.
To steer your mind into a different sea of emotions, you pushed yourself up from her chair to round the desk and make your way over to the window. The lack of lit candles in her office allowed tonight’s full moon to illuminate the room in a beautiful, gentle light. The raging storms of her Majesty slowly came to a close as your view wandered over the palace gardens that were draped in a beautiful cloak of white that was glistening in the glow of tonight’s firmament.
It wasn’t rare that your Husband used the freedom her title bestowed her with to take a stroll through the grounds with you when you came by ever so often during working hours, her usually burdensome curse allowing her to radiate a gentle warmth that expanded over to you, her dear Wife. She hated seeing you freeze, especially when she could obviously do something against that runny nose and how you painfully tried heating up your shaking hands by cupping them around your mouth. The first time you wandered through her Excellency‘s estate you ended up pressed against the stony facade of the bridge that led over the frozen lake that spread through a good half of the garden. With her kneeling before you. Both of your legs thrown over her shoulders and placing your entire weight on her as her tongue dove into your pulsating cunt.
The Knave was eating out her wife in broad daylight for everyone to see. On her knees like an animal in heat and only concealed by the fabric of your skirt that was draped over her head to access you comfortably.
She didn’t tell you about the guards she had placed at each gate to keep out any unwanted disturbances.
Yes, that garden inherited many beautiful memories.
But just as you wanted to check out how the newly built fountain was doing, an all too familiar voice echoed through the hallway outside the office.
„If I wanted to ruin my anniversary I would have done it myself instead of leaving the task to not three, not four, but five imbeciles to mess up. Everything was flawlessly written down in the file that I handed to you and I find out halfway through the day that a whole team managed to book the reservations an entire week too early. So not only do I have to deal with a disappointed Wife for the rest of the month but also with several no-show fees to take care of?“, her tone sent a shiver down your spine. Arlecchino was never someone to outright yell but rather dip her words into utter viciousness. The kind of tone she resulted to, when faced with only the most repulsive individuals.
A silence so deafening spread itself out over the small group of people, you could’ve heard a needle hitting the ground in the distance. You sometimes forget that your Husband is holding one of the highest positions within the organization and for good reason. No conversation doesn’t go in her favor.
Fear is housed by everyone. Old. Young. Rich. Poor. Fear is the biggest weakness in one’s profile. Something more lethal than any bullet. Sharper than any knife. Which is why Father doesn’t like tears. Why one of the first lessons a child in the Hearth learns is to mask and control their fear.
To Arlecchino, fear is just another tool to keep the upper hand.
Which is why nobody even dared to breathe out a single word to the diplomat.
„Speak.“
„Lord… A-Arlecchino… we truly have nothing to excuse our failure for-”
„Mr. Stark. You have a wife yourself, correct?“, the sharp sound of Arlecchino‘s heels hitting the marble floor was to be heard behind the doors. Circling him probably.
„I… yes… y-yes, I do…“, you heard the man’s voice tremble with cold terror. Maybe you should intervene…
„I see. Now, you get to walk home everyday. To see her greet you at the doorstep with a smile. To sleep next to her each night and bathe in her presence. Maybe if you feel like it you will come into work an hour later to just admire her sleeping beauty a bit longer. I don’t have that luxury. In fact, it has been weeks since I properly spent time with my Wife. Which is why we were both looking forward to this day. But do you see my Wife anywhere? Right. You do not, because five fools were too incompetent to follow a step-by-step instruction.“, her voice carried through the corridor for a few seconds before silence took over once again. But instead of an answer, the culprits only gestured behind her, all while holding their breaths. Those are probably tears of relief in one of the women’s eyes. They were all staring at you like some kind of holy savior when you quietly opened up the door behind her.
You only chuckled slightly in response to which your Spouse whipped around with perhaps the deadliest glare- just for her expression to immediately falter at the sight of you. A soft smile carried by your pretty painted lips as you smooth over the fabric of her suit jacket on her shoulder.
„Let your subordinates in one piece for me, will you?“, you snickered as your other hand tugged a few loose strands of white hair behind her ear.
Goodness, she was in awe. What even happened during the last five minutes? Something, something instructions… missing Wife… anniversary… you know what, it doesn’t even matter.
„You are dismissed.“, you have never seen the switches inside her head flip so quickly with how her hands were already glued to your hips, gently pushing you back into the privacy of her office.
„But-”, their response was only met with the slam of her office door in front of their faces, hard enough to even blow the toupee off of Mr. Stark‘s head and followed by the click of the door‘s lock.
„For how long have you been waiting for me here…?“, she asked, not a single hint of her earlier tone to be found within the softness of her words as her hands made an effort to roam up and down the sides of your hips. Archons, her heart was beating so fast at the sight of you it was almost pathetic. She just missed you that much.
„Oh, not for too long… maybe fifteen minutes at most. But sending our child over to check up on me is a little too much, don‘t you think so…?“, your voice grew more sultry with each syllable as you slipped off the coat from her shoulders and nobody could have cared less when the expensive piece of clothing hit the polished floors with a dull thud.
„I‘m failing to see how checking up on my Wife is overbearing after she didn’t respond to any of the letters that I wrote to her in the past two weeks.“, she scolded you mildly. A hint of desperation hiding behind those bloody pupils of hers.
„À propos de notre anniversaire-”, she started, wanting to breach the topic about your ruined wedding anniversary before you shushed her by gently laying your index finger onto her lips.
„Whatever plans got ruined today don’t matter to me because I am here now. And all we truly need for this day is each other, do we not, my dear Husband…?“, the finger you kept on her lips slowly trailed down south, tracing her jawline before running idly over the hot pulse on her neck as Arlecchino wordlessly let you feel her up all you wanted.
The lack of light did little to illuminate her handsome features except for the cold shine of tonight‘s moon pushing through the curtains of the windows. The only thing that you could make out clearly were those inhuman crosses for eyes. Her intense gaze would have probably triggered the flight or fight response of any other person, but for you?
„You‘re staring.“, she muttered, voice laced with something carnal as you felt the edge of her desk suddenly pressing into your lower back, „I-I am merely observing you-”, two hands slowly placed themselves at each side next to you on the wood as your Husband- much taller Husband- leaned down to your face in an unfaltering pace which had you building up the distance between you in response by leaning back until she very much hovered over your figure halfway laying on her desk.
„You truly don’t mind…? I will have something arranged for us in no time if you really-”, her attempt to mend the mistakes of her agents was reduced to dust yet again as you shook your head while she felt your warm hands slowly engulf her face with your thumbs rubbing soft circles into her cheeks.
„La seule chose dont j'ai besoin ce soir, c'est de mon mari…“
„The only thing I need tonight is my Husband…“
A silence spread over the both of you as nobody dared to break off the eye contact that seemingly connected your souls to one another in that moment.
„You‘re stari-“, you weren‘t given the opportunity to finish your sentence when her lips sealed you tightly off as her tongue more or less pushed its way inside your mouth, exploring, nudging your tongue with her own as you felt your teeth clashing together with how desperately she pressed herself into you. Gods, she missed you so much. Missed those whimpers that got swallowed up by your kiss as you tried holding onto her- anywhere- as you felt her hands push your thighs apart for her to finally press herself against you.
Already hard….
Air was suddenly so difficult to come by when you had someone robbing you of every single bit of it with hands pushing up the fabric of your dress over your legs like clockwork.
If you only knew how much of a hard time your Husband was having. It took every single bit of her self control to not just rip off every single layer of fabric that’s shielding your bare body from her hungry eyes. But this environment was unbecoming for this type of occasion. Her Wife deserved way better than this on their anniversary, yet… a little appetizer never hurt anyone.
„I promise you-”, she couldn’t even properly finish her sentences as her mouth found yours again, „…I‘ll rearrange today’s reservation for another day…“, she sounded almost desperate to make up for the spoiled surprise but your gut was telling you that she was actually yearning for something else…
When her lips connected to your collarbone you took the opportunity to sneak a hand down between the two of you until her trail of kisses was abruptly stopped by a breathy groan as she felt your hand cupping and squeezing her through her pants. Evil. So evil.
„My love- what are you-”, she rasped into your ear and pressed herself into your palm almost instinctively as a voice in the back of her mind almost screamed at her to rip through your panties, to release all that pent up energy inside of her as she plows ballsdeep into your welcoming pussy, squeezing her so tightly as your moans fill the air, nails clawing themself into her back as-
„P-Peruere, y-your desk-!“, you ripped her right back out of whatever cock-ridden psychosis she was about to enter as she blinked away the desire clouding her mind.
Her… desk…?
Archons above.
Flammabomb wood might be fire resistant but nothing can save it from the Knave dragging her claws through the surface and leaving a pattern behind that could easily be mistaken for a feral animal. But who cares about the customized office furniture that cost more than half a fortune when your Wife is looking at you with big eyes and exposed panties?
„I’ll get it replaced.“, certainly not her. Two fingers pushed aside the drenched cloth that was hiding your eager cunt from her view and you swore you saw her visibly gulp and suck in her lower lip between her teeth.
She was really trying her best to hold back.
Your back melted into a beautiful arch followed by an enticing moan when you felt her push two of her fingers inside all too easy, literally swallowing her up.
With a click of her tongue, your Husband already began to work her magic and curled up her fingertips, „Did my Wife miss me that much…?“, she whispered almost hypnotized by how loudly you were already singing for her, your hands reaching down to the one that’s currently showing you heaven itself to further press them into you, just doing anything to get more of her.
„‘issed you s-so much….“, you barely managed to whimper out, „kiss me- P-Peruere kiss-”, a large hand suddenly grabbed after your face before her lips came crashing down onto yours. She kissed you as if she wanted to transfer her soul over to you, as if she wanted her life to be in your hands and yours alone. Her fingers still doing their best in stretching you open because preparations need to be done in advance after all. Archons, she cannot wait to arrive in the privacy of your bedroom. The things she has in mind for you. She spent way too many times unsatisfied with her hand that her dick is starting to give her a headache, literally just wanting to burst through her fitted pants and god does it test her patience.
A hot spark of ecstasy shoots down your spine when your legs go boneless and the knot that’s been rapidly building up in your abdomen comes loose around her fingers. Your cum gushing over her fingers as your mewl her name loud enough for the whole floor to hear while your lungs feel like they are about to explode from desperation when her fingers leave your pussy for good as the thick string of your arousal snaps the connection between the both of you.
„Don‘t give me that disappointed look, my love. We aren’t even remotely done here.“, her words were wisely chosen, spoken with a tone she only ever uses on you, low and anticipated.
Your chest hurt from the sudden intake of oxygen as you watched her with a flushed face bring up those soaked fingers to put them in her mouth for a cleanup, „D-Did you hear me complain…?“, you breathed out as you sat back up to grab after the tissue box resting next to you, only for your Husband to push your hand down as she pulls out the fingers from her mouth.
„That won’t be needed. I‘ll make sure of it.“, and with a tug on your hand, she pulled you off of her desk with you immediately grabbing onto her for balance as you felt your legs slightly giving up under your weight. Luckily, she was quick enough to secure you with a strong arm around your waist as she gave you one of her self-satisfied smirks, „Need me to carry you, my Lady?“, her light mockery was accompanied by her hand wandering dangerously low to your behind to which you only responded with a grip onto her wrist to fix her position onto your lower back, „Careful there… I can still decide to go back experimenting.“, you whispered as your other hand guided her down for yet another kiss and that hand you just fixed still found its way back down to your ass.
Unbelievable.
„Mh…. I would actually believe you if it weren’t for the way you screamed my name loud enough for the whole Palace to hear just now. We‘re going home, ma chérie.“
It took the willpower of three archons for the two of you to walk through Zapolyarny Palace without dryhumping each other in the hallway like two animals in heat, but you still ended up pressed against a cold wall with a tongue shoved down your throat one, two, three… four times in a row until you finally ended up on the ride back home.
And even here were you strictly put on her lap, right onto her aching boner as her teeth pulled and nibbled on your swollen lips, two cursed hands grabbing onto your bare ass after showing up your skirt out of her damn way for good. She cannot possibly fuck you in here like she wanted to. Deep and hard. The environment of a moving carriage and potholes all over the streets would only frustrate her so she is sticking to the traditional way of groping your every curve and painting your neck with her lipstick and teeth all the while you had your arms swung around her as you drag your clothed cunt over her imprisoned cock that’s surely soaking her boxers in precum by now.
„H-Hah- s-slow-”, you groaned softly as Arlecchino‘s lips connected to your jawline like a magnet all over again.
Her tongue dragged itself delicately over your sensitive spot before you felt her tilting your head to the side for a more comfortable access which had you singing in only the sweetest melody for her. Loudly. Loud enough for the sound to travel down south into her pants. Nobody understands how desperately she needs to be back inside you right now. To drag her aching cock in and out your squelching cunt as each thrust forces more of her load to ooze out of your stuffed hole. To breed… To get her Wife pregnant with child. Her child. A thought that’s been tormenting her for a long time by now— and that’s fucking with her head especially during the last weeks, the weeks she can’t seem to spend enough time with you. She‘d think about names, what they’d possibly look like, how utterly gorgeous you’d look with a swollen belly, it is driving her mad.
Again, the thought of it catches her off guard and forces an almost desperate expression onto her usual stern face with a sudden moan slipping from her lips as you press you drenched cunt down onto her caged dick.
The amount of precum that you just milked out of her with that move forces almost something similar to embarrassment into her face which she quickly masks again.
But of course you caught it.
„W-What was that…?“, you asked her between breathy moans and a hand coming up to caress her cheek.
„Don’t mind it.“, she casually evaded the topic like she always did when something doesn’t really go according to her plan. The downside of dating a diplomat.
You didn’t notice your ride finally coming to an end until your Husband gently pushed you off of her swollen lips and a face that was dizzy with lust as she threw your coat back over your shoulders, not even caring about properly fixing your clothes.
They will come off anyways in a few minutes.
„A-Already here…?“, your words were accompanied by a slight slur as you try to gather your thoughts after she just robbed you of every coherent one during the past twenty minutes.
It was like watching a drunkard trying to gather their stuff before they leave the pub.
„Is that disappointment I’m hearing?“, Arlecchino slightly clicked her tongue as the door gets opened and a cold gust of wind quickly wipes out the remaining warmth of the small carriage as she helps you with getting out on your shaky legs.
„D-Don‘t get ahead of yourself…“
„Oh, I would do no such thing. Been merely observing you.“, she replied before bidding the coachman a good night and guided you with a hand on your back towards the mansion until it couldn’t get any slower for her liking so you were swiped off of your feet in a single motion. With only one arm under your knees needed to secure you against her.
She had places to be with you after all.
Which happened to be your bedroom tonight.
The moment she swung the door open to let you back down, both of your coats dropped to the floor followed by her jacket and your skirt before she let herself fall down onto her knees as she ripped your soaked slip out of her way to bury her face into your wet cunt, dragging an exhilarating sound out of you as felt your knees buckle around her head from the earlier stimulation.
„P-Peruere-!!“, you gasped out between moans when her tongue slipped past your well-kept bush and into your hole as her fingers dug into the muscles of your thighs.
The scent and taste of your sex filling her nostrils was driving her to the edge of her self control as she swallowed up your juices and drank up like a good Husband. Too often she fantasized about feasting on you during the last weeks, how you‘d scream for her, how you‘d taste on her tongue as your legs gave up to the point of her having to hold you up all by herself with her face buried into you.
The noises you‘re making are short and whiny, pleas for her to continue as you tried rocking your hips further into her with your hand keeping her firmly in place by her hair. Her scalp slightly irritated by the sheer force but the carnal desire that’s been thrumming in her abdomen for so many weeks outweighs everything on this evening as her lips close around your clit and come fast. The knot loosening for the second time this evening almost makes you weightless as your legs start feeling heavy around her- are you even standing up on your own right now?
She retreats from your thighs in instant, her mouth and neck dirty with your slick before she wordlessly gets up on her feet and pushes her lips back onto yours that it knocks out the breath from your lungs as you taste yourself on her lips and tongue. That‘s a woman kissing you with the built-up desire of a thousand men and she only reserved it for you.
You don’t notice how she pushes you onto the bed and undoes your shirt by practically ripping the buttons apart. „Missed you— so— much… It‘s been— killing me…“, she rasps against your skin as she showers your neck in more kisses and the next thing flying across the room are her own clothes. You watch her almost hungrily when her eyes dig into yours while unbuckling the belt that’s been torturing her for the entire evening. „Want this hm…? You want my cock, sweetheart…? Want me to take care of my Wife?“, her breathing came out unsteady as she looked at your bare body so exposed, so ready, so unfucked.
Before answering to her you had to clear your throat and wet your lips, „Mhm… I want my Husband… Goodness, Peruere I-I want your baby…“, the words came out faster than you could’ve stopped them. The hands on her zipper stilled as her mouth fell slightly open after hearing what you just said.
„Baby…? You want a baby…?“, she almost couldn’t even believe herself speaking out these words. You? Pregnant? With her child? An idea never sounded better to her.
„No- I-I mean yes-! Yes, I do but… I‘m just worried because of Project Stuzha and- What about your opinion…? Would you- y-you know…“, you stammered nervously as you looked down to your tummy.
You probably sound ridiculously to h-
„I do.“, without zero delay she continued working on getting her pants off and leaving you dumbfounded.
„A-Are you sure— What about-”
„Mon amour, si jamais je dis non à l'idée d'avoir un bébé avec toi, tu dois me tirer dessus sur-le-champ.“
„My love, if I ever say no to the idea of having a baby with you, you must shoot me on the spot.“
Her answer forced a heat to rush through your body that made you want to get naked all over again. „A-Are you really not saying this because you’re-”
„I am saying this because you are my Wife and nothing would make me happier than seeing you walk around with our baby under your heart. Now please…“, she let out a deep moan when her cock finally springs free, coated and leaking with her precum, „… let us tend to other things.“.
Shortly, you opened your mouth to argue back one last time before the yearning in her eyes hit you and you sighed as you leaned back down on the mattress. „Fine… you win this time…“.
„I always win.“.
Normally Arlecchino would now ask you to put her inside you. Teasing you with a slight smirk gracing her lips as she watches her cockhead disappear inside your eager pussy.
But tonight she was beyond such slow methods.
You moaned as your legs were pressed up to your chest when she slips inside the first inches with ease and slides the rest in after a few more seconds, your cunt making an almost disgusting squelching sound as you mold around her dick, so perfectly around her girth it gets her all dizzy at first that she has to blink away the fog of ecstasy first. Your eyes roll back as you moan into your hand when you feel her stuffing your pussy after such a long time again, you pulse and squeeze around her and she doesn’t start moving immediately. She is waiting for your sign.
„So deep inside you…. Feel that, hm…? Feel my dick fitting so perfectly inside you…?“, her hand comes down on your face as she lets her thumb brush over your swollen lips before you let your own leg wander up and rest on her shoulder as you urge her with your hips to start moving.
„S-Stop teasing— c-c‘mon Peru, ‘need you… need your baby…“, you plead before kissing her thumb and she pulls back as you see something raw settle in her eyes before she bullies herself all the way back inside you in one smooth thrust that it forces the bed to slam against the wall. And again.
She drinks in the way you moan her name each time your hips meet with a nasty smack. How your fingers tangle into her hair and she has to abandon the hold on your other leg to keep the one on her shoulder from slipping down. She didn’t even come yet but the amount of precum alone is enough to already decorate her marked cock with a milky-white ring at the base with drops of it sticking to your pubic hair- it drives her mad. She comes fast. The prior teasing and dryhumping did little for her stamina as she feels her load spill into you with her balls tightening, your walls squeezing further around her as the result of your own orgasm as she pumps you full of herself. Her own moans coming out as a choked noise while you can’t stop moaning her name on full volume as your leg kicks out next to her head as tears start to blur your vision from how good her cock feels back inside you.
„M-More…“, it was a raspy whisper but god did it work.
Swiftly, Arlecchino pulled out her still sensitive length from you before patting your thighs. „Turn around. All fours.“, she didn’t have to tell you twice when she watched flip around on your stomach before pulling your knees to your chest to present yourself with your ass to her. Your stuffed pussy on full display to her and she watches her sperm leak out of you with an almost irritated look before you felt her cockhead on your puffy clit and how she drags it back up to your fluttering hole before shoving herself back inside along with the juices that just tried to escape.
„Let‘s not waste anything…“, she whispers more to herself than you as her plants itself on your ass and you whimper with how full you actually feel. And it feels good. With your face buried into her pillow and your arms hugging it she didn’t wait any longer and just fucks right back into you. Archons is it possible to be so tight around her? Do you want to kill her? Now that your sounds were muffled she had to deal with the absolute obscene noises coming from your cunt, your mixed slick partially running down your thighs or dripping straight up down into the sheets that she has to grit her together at the feeling of your juices sloshing around inside you.
„Mhm, that‘s it… such a good girl letting me fuck her just how I want to…“, a smack echoes through your chambers and you whimper into the fabric as your ass starts burning at the impact before you feel her tits press down against your bag and hand tugging your head back by your hair. „So filthy for your Husband, aren’t you? Look how easy you are to breed.“, humiliation rushes through your body at her remark as your mascara runs down your face from how hard she‘s been plowing into you.
You didn’t notice you sharing a climax again until you slightly squirt over her when you feel her balls emptying right against your cervix and this time she actually stays right where she is. Deep inside you. Arlecchino felt boneless and every other word in the dictionary for „amazing“ but she didn’t meet her limit entirely yet… unlike you.
„B-Break- Please… a-a break…“, your voice slightly cracks at the end and the Harbinger feels her heart slightly contract at the choked sound and she carefully starts retreating from you.
„There, there… let’s not overwhelm ourselves. Come here, my love…“, when you were turned back around you were only met with the softest kiss Teyvat has ever witnessed. Nothing like the uncontrolled wildfire from before. Her hands came up to carefully cup your face in her hands as if she’s too scared to touch you properly when her thumbs wiped away the tears on your cheeks.
„Mh… you‘re still hard…“, you note as you look down between you only for your Husband to tilt your face back up. „Don‘t worry about it. It will go down with time on itself…“, gently, she presses another kiss to your lips but this time it was you who pushed her off and onto her back, earning a confused look from her.
„That won‘t do. I… I still have an idea…“, you didn’t elaborate further as you placed yourself between her spread and it only dawned on her once you took your tits into your hands. She won’t survive this. Not this sight.
„D-Don’t have anything to say…?“
She merely shook her head as she feels your breasts engulf her sensitive flesh and it took a bite to her lower lip hard enough to draw blood for her to not arch her back. „I thought so…“, and slowly you started to work up your tits around her. Up. Down. Up. Down. In steady rhythm as you sometimes opt to kiss her leaking cockhead anytime you go down, ignoring how much of her you are still leaking out your pussy.
The sight was so rare that even she was left speechless with her cock at your mercy. A sight so beautiful she never wanted this moment to end. Pregnant. She needs you pregnant. This year. Even better this month. To hell with important business matters she had impregnate you. Badly. She wants to take care of her pregnant Wife after a hard day, spending all her free time with taking care of you. Kissing you. Loving you. Celestia better start praying themselves if this wish of hers doesn’t come true soon.
„Did you even read the letters I have sent you?“
„I… sigh No… I-I kind of forgot…“, you mumbled into her neck after getting cleaned up and put into a changed bed. You didn’t exactly stop after making her finish with your chest and there is also morning after all for you to enjoy… but that’s another topic.
„Why am I not surprised… Did Lyney actually start questioning you?“
Thinking about your first time with Arle hmgghghhgh…..
I will die on the hill that Arle is a virgin. Untouched. Unkissed. Un-Everything. But she is a fast learner. A very fast learner.
Of course she knows about the basics. Be loose enough, wet enough, willing enough, so I actually don’t think that she‘d make the first move into the right direction without being 100% sure that your hand between her legs is enough of an indicator for her that you want to take this step with her.
Her hands would be so unsure at first😭 poor woman doesn’t know where she should touch you first. Hips, ass, tits, face???? There are just so many options for her that she just hands up roaming her hands up and down your beautiful curves, grabbing and squeezing everything she can get a hold of mfghghghg…. But you‘re still not getting that dick/strap at the first time. Nono, she doesn’t want to overwhelm you after all. But she will have you moaning and creaming around her fingers for the whole evening. Spreading her fingers inside of you, pushing your walls apart and feeling them up for your sensitive spot. She might not find it at the first try but as soon as she does…. You might want to hold onto something.
That said, she‘d regularly ask you if you are actually feeling good. Taking in every single change in your expression when she rubs her thumb into your clit, her worst ever fear is making you feel uncomfortable or even hurt you. She‘d never survive it.
Maybe make a few subtle mentions of her eating you out. I promise you she will catch on. And lord does she dive in there. Trying to get her to slow down on your already puffy lips and clit is a challenge for itself, she is SO into it. So into the taste of you. If drugs are illegal then why is this allowed??? Pussy so good it makes come completely untouched inside her own boxers much to her own embarrassment surprise karmmsmffghhhhhh… what I would give to clean that up….
A leyline abnormality has occured in the House of Hearth!
Gn!Reader, unspecified relationship status, SUBTLE power dynamic, OOC, bad grammar and no beta read, quick story, canon divergent?
~~
Being House of Hearth's best leyline researcher means you work outside a lot. Always be on the field, directly studying the leylines themselves.
Being the best also means that the Head of the House always rely on you whenever there is an abnormality. You and the Lady are quite close, in professional matter. Everything is mostly about documents and mission.
With few personal teacup party.
The very first tea party was a nervous wreck. The Lady herself request for your presence, only you, just you. Oh boy, despite the bad thoughts clouded your mind, you just hope you got a raise or promotion.
Thankfully, it was just her asking for a plan. A quite specific plan of a very specific leyline abnormalities. It was Clervie, one of House of Hearth's children in the past.
That's where you learnt more of the Head of House of Hearth's past. She doesn't tell much other than Clervie need to be gone as she isn't suppose to exist and wandering about. Putting a soul to rest, again.
After hours of talking, she settled with a plan, thanking you by promising a raise on the next salary. Somehow, knowing how she was in the past is a promotion itself for you, imposing into her life story where not a lot of people are lucky enough to know.
Knowing how a leyline can manifest, how a memory of the past can exist as a visible soul, how an innocent soul can stuck in time, how...Arlecchino was just a child.
Leylines, basically Tevyat's biggest hive network memories, everything that has happened in the world is recorded and remembered.
Including the very memory that Arlecchino wants to forget.
You always see the Lady herself is all calm and collected, barely anything makes her break a sweat. She often does things her own way, it is quick and precise.
Now imagine your shock and dread when a pigeon bird flies to you with a small note "S.O.S". You know this bird, in fact, this one particular pigeon is only assigned for you. A messenger pigeon, reserved only for you, only for emergency, only from the Lady Arlecchino.
Door slams open, all due respect but anxiety fills your body, there is no time for greetings and formalities, if the Lady herself sending urgent message there must be some-
Huh?
It took you a moment to realize another abnormality like Clervie happens again but..in..the appearance of..the Lady?!
The task is simple, RETURN PERUERE. Okay, it's not that dreadful but the fact the fact the Lady trusting you to do this task, you feel like she is testing your skill. Testing if you are truly her best researcher.
You nodded, agreed to keep Lil Peruere a secret, her small hand engulf by yours when you guide the little soul into your private research office.
The true challenge is not sending her back, the TRUE challenge is to not grow attachment to the soul. Yes, she is a bit unique but the way her little hands always wanting to help stacking books, papers and catching small spiders making you grow fond of the little one.
So this is how Arlecchino was when she was a child, huh?
Makes you wonder what would Arlecchino's child be like.
This challenge also creating a bridge, more personal bridge rather than professional. Often times you only meet Arlecchino if there is a task, it was professional and formal, over a teacup party.
When Little Peruere stays with you, Arlecchino always shows up before your research office, o'clock, with..basket of sweets?
It was nice, the atmosphere is less formal and more domestic casual. Conversation is not always about the research progress, sometimes it's about Arlecchino's upbringing, what Little Peruere likes to do, and your own trivial stuff. The intimate talk only be witnessed by the papers and whiteboards in the research office.
Weeks passed and with Arlecchino's power, Little Peruere passed on, same with Clervie, the warm sunlight enveloping the lost soul as the little one disappear into small glistening petals. Just like Clervie, Arlecchino accompany Little Peruere, but you also sits next to her. Arlecchino have asked you to stay in the research office as the night is cold, yet here you are...
Sitting next to her, leading the conversation as both Peruere and Arlecchino prefers to listening in. The dawn sky is beautiful, dark twilight-blue night sky slowly painted with yellow-orange lights. Peruere watching with fascination, yours watching the little one with adoration, and you felt a pair of eyes watching you from the side.
~~
Clicking, typing, rustling filled your research office. You need to make a report on the little soul, as formality of your works. Arlecchino was there to proofreading the report herself.
The Harbinger doesn't miss how you sighed a lot, recalling the little pitter-patter of Peruere's feet around your office, the small hands tidying up the papers around, and the small bug container-which always contain any bugs found in your office- in the corner is empty now that Peruere is not here.
Arlecchino thinks, you have gone this far to send the soul back. Perhaps she should give you something in return, it's only fair in transaction,right?
What is it? A day off? A vacation? A raise? A promotion? A kid of your own?
Well, it seems you have grown fond to the little Peruere, perhaps...another real Peruere would be a delight?
And what a delight it is~! The House of Hearth burst into happiness when the news of another member, from the Father herself , was announced when the children are eating dinner.
This raised the House's morale, everybody work and play safely, determined to go home in one piece looking forward when cries of an infant burst into the house. It would be hell to get used to but the House of Hearth is used to not cry for pain, no tears of loss and grief.
This is the only cry they would have, the only wail in the building, the only tears they would be happy to hear. The only tears in the House of Hearth....
this is so cute oml imagine arlecchino seeing you handle her little self like that and she just wishes she had a mother figure who'd take care of her, like reader was doing, back then 😭💔
Why are people tagging stuff that’s not reader centered under the reader tag???? Nobody searches up the reader tag to read about someone else’s oc/self insert getting fucked eight ways to sunday please😭 or tagging a character who is not even relevant to the post????
sfw, reader is a nameless medic, fem!reader, petnames (darling, my love), hidden-relationship but they're also not really in a relationship rn?? it's complicated, reader implied to be an ex-stellaron hunter. kafka might be occ but like.. soft kafka everyone???
i just missed stellaron hunter... amphoreous haven't really struck a cord in my heart like xianzhou and penacony does :(
masterlist
you were just doing your own thing, tidying up your clinic, sorting out papers and grinding some herbs for medicine, before you hear the sliding door of your office opened.
you still for a second when you heard clicks of heels and a familiar seductive chuckles echoes on your quiet office, you adored that sound—more than you could even admit.
you sigh as you continue on grinding some herbs on the mortar and pestle in your hands, “kafka, how many times do i have to tell you? you can't come in and out here as you please, the others will not be pleased if they saw you”
“you say that every time.” kafka’s voice glided through the clinic with her usual lilt, but there was something warmer, less theatrical about it today.
you didn’t even have to look. you could already picture her: leaning in the doorway like she owned the place, hair slightly windblown, probably picking at your dried herbs like she always did.
“and yet you still come in every time” you said, without missing a beat, grinding the last of the roots with a practiced hand.
she let the door slide shut behind her with a soft thunk, her heels clicking casually as she made her way inside. “if you really wanted to keep me out, you’d lock the door.”
you huffed under your breath, amused despite yourself. “i did.”
“mm. your lock’s too easy, darling.”
“i know. you’ve told me. every single time.”
you heard the rustle of her coat being tossed onto the chair by your desk, like she lived here. like this was hers to be in. and honestly, part of you didn’t mind. the scent of her perfume hit next—spice and floral with a hint of red wine that she loves so much, subtle but unmistakably her. kafka.
“you’re out of licorice root,” she said casually, now standing beside your shelf like she had a right to inventory your supplies. “tough luck. it’s good for calming nerves, isn’t it?”
“you make me need licorice root,” you muttered, finally glancing up. she smirked, folding her arms. “good to know i still have an effect on you, my love”
you gave her a flat look and went back to your herbs. but kafka didn’t seem to mind. she moved around your clinic like she belonged there. pausing to skim her gloved fingers along your counter, brushing off a few stray petals like she was helping.
then she leaned back on the edge of your desk. "you really shouldn’t work so late, you know," she said lightly—her voice missing the usual sly tone, watching you. "you get those tiny little lines between your brows when you're focused too hard."
you raised a brow at her. "are you here to critique my skincare or my lockpicking prevention?"
“neither.” her tone dropped a little, more genuine now. “i just wanted to see you.” she chuckled a bit as you shake your head.
you poured the ground herbs into a labeled pouch and set the pestle down with a small sigh. kafka was still watching you. not teasing. just watching.
you gave in and walked over to her, brushing the edge of your coat against her knee as you passed. she caught your wrist gently, her gloved fingers warm.
“i missed this,” she said quietly. “just… being around you. not pretending.”
you glanced at her, and for a moment, the ache between you both softened. the weight of your sides, your roles, the universe—it all slipped off your shoulders when she looked at you like this.
“i missed you, too,” you admitted, casual but honest, leaning your hip against the desk beside her. “even if you do rearrange my shelves every time you’re here.”
kafka smiled, not the usual fake smile and sly smirk, only a genuine, slow and fond smile. “that’s how i know you’ll remember i was here.”
you shook your head with a tiny laugh, nudging her with your elbow. she nudged you back before pulling your waist, pressing your side against hers closely making you breath in the familiar scent of expensive perfume and the wine.
“you know…” her voice turned light again, teasing and mischevious. “if you’re going to keep letting me in, you could at least make me tea.”
you rolled your eyes. “do you ever bring snacks for me though?”
she blinked. “darling i'll steal government secrets and infiltrate intergalactic rail networks for you, and you want snacks?” she purrs as her lips brushed against the shell of your ear making you shiver.
“yes, preferably sweet ones.”
kafka laughed. a real one—low, amused, with her usual seductive tone, it's familiar. it warmed the space in a way no stars or fire ever could.
eventually, she leaned her head lightly on your shoulder, like it was the most natural thing in the world. and you let her.
there, in the quiet hum of your clinic, in the scent of herbs and ink and perfume, the two of you sat. no declarations. no drama. just the quiet, comfortable truth of two people who never really stopped loving each other—even if the universe told them they should.
now hear me out : himeko being very protective when kafka is anywhere near you. kafka just smile with her usual sly smile while himeko is being passive aggressive towards her lmao.
So reading Blunt Rotation gave me the idea of Arle and another Woman (doesn't matter who) passing Fem reader back and forth, repeatedly shotgunning Her until she's on cloud 9 and then passing Her back and forth on their Straps/Cocks.
(totally get if Intox if that level isn't your thing, you just gave me major Brainworms)
Uhm… ARLEZANI- OH MY GOD WHO SAID THAT??????
Just two handsome women passing you back and forth on their dicks like it‘s daily routine, your cunt stuffed with their mixed cum as you lay between them, a fucked out mess, as you watch them pass the singular blunt around, occasionally leaning down to exhale the sweet smoke right into your mouth before two strong hands drag you back onto her lap. Zani usually has a hard time staying hard after an orgasm but you make it so incredibly easy for her. Unlike Peruere she isn’t tattooed on multiple places, but she does have a nose piercing. One that makes her all the more attractive. The kind of attractive that makes her irresistible, almost as addicting as the herbs they‘ve been smoking in a straight line.
„Hm… still dripping from us…? Poor thing…“, a steady hand would guide you by your ass over her dripping cockhead, a tail wrapping around your fragile body that’s been beyond drained of its energy. But the painful ache between your quivering thighs just doesn’t seem to stop. Even after them taking turns with your mouth- hands fisting your hair as they pushed their cock past your lips… you couldn’t help but yearn for more.
Reminder to share a blunt with them more often when you were supposed to study together.
You could still feel Peruere‘s two Frenulum Piercings rubbing against your g-spot as her biceps strained when she pushed your legs all the way up to your chest. The way she folded you in half on the mattress while you had to watch Zani‘s hand fly over her own dick. Her breathing was heavy with a tail that couldn’t seem to hold still, swaying around from side to side. Just the sight of this pretty woman‘s pussy getting blown to pieces by her friend- god, it was beautiful. But maybe that was just the weed kicking in.
You forgot about condoms but frankly you also couldn’t care less. Just the feeling of their mixed cum getting pushed out with each thrust back into your stuffed pussy was enough to send you down a spiral of ecstasy. The way Peruere’s lips connected with your neck for millionth time tonight as Zani‘s hands pushed you in and off her dick before the entomology student helped her take another hit of the almost finished joint. Just so you had to watch them stick their tongues down each others throat as the smoke slowly passed through Zani‘s nose. It sparked a little bit of jealousy inside of you, watching them get intimate with each other despite you being right there. Placed on her dick. It didn’t take them long before their attention was fixed back on you with Peruere smoothly pulling you into a jaw-breaking kiss by your chin after making a remark about „How greedy you were getting.“ as you simultaneously felt a slim tail wrapping around your waist, the ace-shaped end making an effort to brush over your already hardened nipple
Of course, you couldn’t please only one person at a time. Wrap your hand around Peruere‘s dirtied dick. Let the pearly mixture leaking from her tip coat your hand as you tried your best to get her off despite your brain being reduced to mush. And it would work. Twitching in between your grip, the sensitive flesh pulsating underneath your touch, a tattooed hand fumbling with your tits as the other one got a good grip on your neck.
note: this one is just a short imagine I had for a half-baked idea
“You seem lost.” From between her lips, a puff of smoke is exhaled, and the cigarette is offered to you– enticing, yet with heavy consequences should you take it. Though, considering your current company, you fear you might be too far gone to care for consequence. You take it, pressing it against your own mouth. The taste of Kafka’s lipstick is bitter, an unknown flavor, but distinct.
“I don’t understand why you had to do it.”
“Elio said it had to, so it had to. I would’ve thought you’d been able to piece it together by now.”
“Did you have to abandon her?”
She falls silent at the question. Instead, Kafka leans forward on the railing of the balcony, fetching another cigarette from her pocket. Above you, the hotel’s balcony is covered by an awning–the only thing keeping you both dry from the rain. It falls fast to the street several dozen floors below, and the distance seems to call to you.
“Destiny’s Slave said it had to be.”
With a click, she lights the cigarette.
“I wish you hadn’t done it.”
“I wish I hadn’t either.”
You wondered how Stelle must’ve felt. You wondered for hours, pacing the hotel room waiting for Kafka to return from Herta Space Station. Silver Wolf stopped by every half hour, at first out of duty, and then out of genuine worry that you might’ve been on the verge of causing harm to someone.
Was she afraid? She’d have no memories, you were told. Everything you’d ever done with her cumulated to nothing but the set up for a pawn to be used by Elio’s great future. Kafka had done her part, certainly, and she was the girl’s favorite. But you loved her. You loved her so much, as if she were made from your very skin and you only felt nauseous imagining how scared she’d feel when she woke up with a Stellaron deep inside her.
Beside you, Kafka tries to gently settle her hand on your shoulder. It’s shrugged off quickly.
“Don’t touch me.”
“You know the rules. So do I.”
“I begged Elio. I begged him not to let this happen, not to let her go.”
“You know just as well as I do how stubborn he can be. The script says she’ll find her way back to us, some day.”
“You can’t be alright with this.”
She exhales, smoke rising into the air.
“I only do what I’m told.” Then, she turns, with something of a sly grin. “And with some harmless fun on the side to pass the time.”
The joke isn’t funny. She must know it, but times must be desperate considering you’ve shrugged off every invitation for intimacy since Elio showed you the script. Kafka didn’t need to agree to this, and yet she did. She chose to be the one to abandon the child you practically raised together.
“I miss her. I miss her so much.”
“Give it time, dear. She’s strong. She’ll get into trouble, but nothing she can’t get out of.” Her hand guides your face towards hers– and you let her. Even when she sounds somber, her face betrays nothing. It’s the way she’s always been. Is she grieving too? Or does she lack anything beneath that pretty face?
“She’ll be back. So, why don’t we enjoy this temporary time alone, hm? Relax a bit.” Kafka plants her lips against your cheek, then against your jaw, and further into the crook of your neck. As much as you’d like to pretend there’s passion in it, you can’t tell her true intentions. Is it boredom that draws her to you?
In her spare hand, the cigarette continues to burn. You jerk away, and she pauses, pulling back by only a fraction. A cool breath is blown onto the newly forming bruises, but you put the sensation out of mind. It’s a method of distraction, and only that.
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” You mock. “Stop acting like this isn’t… like you didn’t just leave my kid.”
Kafka has enough sense to withdraw at least, and an uncomfortable gap grows between you two. The rain is cold, and the thin sweater you’d put on does little against the wind. You knew what would happen today, and yet nothing could’ve prepared you for the sinking dread of knowing it had truly happened. The reality is always harsher than the expectation.
Stelle wasn’t yours in any traditional way. But you taught her what she knew. You told her stories, you brushed her hair, you mended her clothes when she returned from a mission.
“Kafka,” you begin carefully, “I don’t think I’m staying with the Stellaron Hunters.”
Nothing is said. Her cigarette returns to her lips.
“I have to know she’s alright.”
“You have a bounty, you know.” She reminds you.
“And?”
“It’d mean a lot of trouble if the IPC picked you up. Don’t put Bladie and I through the hassle of getting you back.”
Between your fingers, you twirl the cigarette she gave you. Then, you drop it over the side of the balcony. You lose sight of it quickly, and you don’t care to search for it as you turn around to face the glass door. Kafka doesn’t stop you as you slide it back, and pause at the threshold.
“Elio’s script doesn’t need me, does it?”
The pause is all you need to know. You step through the door, back into the cold dark hotel room. Kafka watches from the balcony as you gather your things, the only sound being that of the rain falling outside. Once your things are packed neatly, you place down the burner phone Silver Wolf provided you at the beginning of the mission. It sits on the bed like flowers over a grave.
You never were that much of a Stellaron Hunter. Not like the others. Your specialties were only needed to ensure no one died of infection or malnutrition– but medicinal expertise was a common commodity these days, and they’d find a workaround easily.
Turning back to the balcony door, you meet her eyes. Goodbye isn’t as hard as you expected it to be. Was that how she felt?
“I’ll see you. Eventually.” You say, before slinging your bag over your shoulder and heading towards the door.
heard tumblr was shadowbanning ppl now 💀😭 im just wondering for all the android users if my pfp is pixelated etc, i dont think it will be cus i havent posted in a while but im just curious lmao
context: she is navigating you with slow and gentle steps (at first) through new found territory (aka sesbian lex)
cw: modern au, experienced dilf!arle, implied age gap (reader is in mid/late twenties), she yaps you an ear off about her spiders, pet names, praising, arle teaches you how to properly finger yourself ngh, mirrors, voyeurism, strap-on, rough sex, dumbification, arle is called peruere
word count: 3.8k
art credits: saditstic beauty: side story a
birthday special for you guys now WHERE are my presents. also thank you to angel and kitty who more or less inspired me for this continuation ngh. i have to be honest, i outdid myself with this one. have with over 3k words of sesbian lex.
„are you certain you don‘t want to feed her? she is quite tame for her species.“
you watched the eight-legged creature crawl over her tatted skin in sheer horror.
how did she come up with the name „bambi“ for this monster of a spider?
„i-i‘m pretty certain. i‘d rather just… watch you feed her from a safe distance…!“, taking a step back from the woman and her…. pet. well, one of her various pets.
you almost died of heart failure the moment you stepped foot into the entomologist‘s basement. terrariums lined up against the walls, everywhere. there had to be at least twenty of the damned creatures here. and today happened to be feeding day so you got to watch your date hand-feed them one by one. and of course, she didn’t leave out any introductions nor did she spare you the details of the individual species.
„this beauty is called a cyriopagopus lividus or rather a cobalt blue tarantula. they‘re known for their extraordinary blue coat and got often mixed up with the omothymus violaceopes even though they differentiate quite a lot from each other in my opinion. from size, color up to their natural habitat and attitude, they could not be more different. this one is actually a bit lively for her species-“ as if the damned thing seemed to understand her word for word, it took off from her palm and rushed up her arm where it abruptly stopped right on her shoulder, „my, the name freminet gave you really does suit you, speedy…“
yet your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest, not because of the sudden scare. rather because she just seemed so… different to you… how skilled she was handling the spiders to her barely lacking knowledge about each and every species she collected over the years. she seemed like a totally different person in that moment. and quite frankly- nothing turned you on more than watching those inked hands putting the haired monster back into its enclosure.
„how come you are so fond of them…?“
you almost regretted your question immediately at the way she mustered you all of a sudden. hesitant. as if she was weighing her options for the unknown.
„i… i‘m sorry if that was too personal… you don‘t have to tell me if you don‘t feel comfortable with sharing that information with me…!“, you stammered as you tried lifting up the blanket of unease covering your heart. yet, peruere merely shook her head before guiding you out of her basement, a hand resting on your lower back when you walked up the stairs.
„i am not uncomfortable… not with you. it‘s just… it is not exactly the happiest story. it wouldn‘t be in my best interest to ruin tonight’s mood.“, she flashed you one of her rare smiles, but something sad clung to the way her eyes stared into yours.
you‘ve only been seeing each other for a good two months now, none of you dared to breach the topic of your past yet, her children had still to make your acquaintance, too. however, peruere showed great effort. daily phone calls, occasional dinner dates, randomly picking you up from your workplace whenever her schedule allowed it. she was truly, truly interested in you. and that fact caused your stomach to hit one cartwheel after the other.
who expected the 38-year old woman to still be so full of love? love she wants to share with you.
„fine… another time then.“, you mirrored her soft expression, not wanting to pressure her any further about this topic.
peruere could feel something in her ribcage tighten at the sight of you. goodness, you brought out a side in her that she didn‘t even know still existed in the first place. you made her feel young again. and she loved you for it.
she hadn‘t loved in a long time.
„it is way past midnight already… do you still want to stay the night or do you want me to drive you back home?“, a tattooed hand came up to gently tuck a few lost hair strands back behind your ear.
with her children staying at certain ginger uncle‘s house tonight, the night belonged to you. and only you.
„well… what would you prefer? please, be honest… i wouldn‘t mind either options.“, instinctively you leaned into her warm palm, letting her thumb caress your soft skin as if it were the last time.
she looked like the moon on a lonely night yet her touch equaled the feeling of being kissed by the sun itself. warm. trusted. gentle.
„i‘d love for you to stay the night…“, and so you did.
when you walked into her bedroom for the first time after going through your evening routine in her bathroom beforehand, you didn’t know what to expect. however, you weren‘t surprised, nor disappointed.
the theme of the room was kept in a gentle dim light, a king-sized bed with simple white-black bedding was resting in the middle of the room. other than that the only things you could spot was a closet, a mirror and two nightstands. if compared to her kids rooms you‘d realize her own little abode is significantly smaller, probably because she doesn’t see a good point in taking up a lot of space which she only frequents for precisely one thing: sleeping. and something else.
otherwise it looked spotless. not a single corn of dust in sight. the sheets were laying neatly folded on top of the mattress and you could make out the soft scent of a room freshener clinging to the air.
„i apologize if my chambers seems to not meet your expectations… i like to keep things simple.“, with her back turned to you, peruere opened her closet to fish some new sleepwear out for herself.
but you were too focused. too focused on the fact that she was standing half-naked before you. her back muscles evidence of a strict diet and years of exercise. and you could spot three names imprinted underneath her right shoulder.
Lyney & Lynette 02.02
Freminet 09.24.
something in your chest tightened at the sight of her kid‘s names tattooed onto her skin. she really loved those rascals with her entire being even if they weren’t hers by blood, they will always be a part of her.
„do you have sleepwear to change into?“
„oh, yes i do, but thank you…“, you watch her put on a plain black shirt and a pair of red-black checked pants and now you are convinced. she looks handsome in literally anything.
the older woman didn’t expect a lot when she turned around but who would’ve thought seeing her sweet date in a tight tanktop and some shorts would blow her fucking mind. you weren’t even wearing anything sexual, yet her thoughts ran rampage inside her head while she tried to make an effort to avoid looking at anything else other than your face.
„so… ready for bed?“
„mhm… gosh, look at that pretty pussy…“
it took the two of you not even five minutes until the first layers of clothes came off.
which happened to be your shorts and panties. you were laying underneath her with spread legs and your own fingers working up and down your cunt, you wanted to give her a show.
but the longer you tried pleasuring yourself, the bigger the frown on peruere‘s face got.
the woman had precisely one question on her mind: did someone ever teach you how to properly finger yourself? you might as well be trying your luck at a lottery ticket the way your fingers… fumbled your folds. you weren‘t even wet enough when you tried to insert your index- and middle-finger.
„stop right there.“
„but-“
„stop. you will only end up hurting yourself.“, crimson eyes watched you remove your hand from your cunt as you tried masking the utter humiliation she just exposed you to.
„don‘t look away.“, with her hand grabbing your chin, she moved your head back to face her directly, „did someone ever teach you how to properly pleasure yourself?“
„h-huh? what do you mean?“
„all the men you have been with before, did they ever bother to finger you correctly or at least show you how to do it yourself?“, your ribcage is suddenly too small for your lungs at the vulgar words she‘s using.
„i… no… n-not that i remember… why are you asking?“
she looked at you for a few seconds before sighing and scooting back, tugging you up by your hand, „how am i supposed to sleep knowing such a pretty girl can‘t even get off all by herself… come here.“, she patted the space between her legs.
just what did she want to do?
when obliged to her request it almost immediately clicked when you were met with the reflection in front of you.
you were sat before a mirror. in her lap. butt-naked.
„y-you want to show me…“
„dear me, so smart… that is exactly what i want to do.“, peruere grabbed you by the plush of your right thigh before pulling your leg over her own and spreading you open in the process.
„so, here‘s how things will operate from here.“, she wasted no time and used her two fingers to spread your cunt open, „i will first give you a little… demonstration… and then it is your turn. how does that sound, hm?“
„th-that sounds humiliating, if i am being honest…“
„it isn‘t. at all. i am not offering this to make fun of you. please don‘t get me wrong, doll. i just want you to know how to take care of yourself the next time we‘re on a phone call.“, she let her lips ghost over the sensitive skin of your neck, your pussy now significantly more slick and your clit aching.
oh, that phone call. just thinking about it caused you to slightly whimper.
„i… o-okay fine… show me…“
„first of all you need to look. not at your face or mine, i need you to observe your pussy when i‘m demonstrating. understood?“, her voice had something stern in it. something that shouldn‘t be allowed to be so incredibly hot.
„understood…“
„good girl. now, first of all, you want to take your middle- and ring finger, that way it is easier for you to get as deep as possible when you are using them on yourself. got it so far?“, she waited for your nod before continuing.
„the main reason why i stopped you earlier was because you were way, way too dry. you need to be slick enough to easily wet your fingers in order for them to slide in with little to no problems. sex or masturbation is never supposed to hurt. if it does you are doing something wrong.“, her expression changed into something softer the more nervous you became by watching her fingertips circle over your sensitive clit, „shhhhh… just follow my fingers, look at how wet you are getting by just a few rubs to your clit…“, using those same fingers to spread you open by your folds. the whimper found its way over your lips all on itself.
„a-ah… th-this is embarrassing, peruere…“, you mumbled before turning your head away once again.
but the entomologist wasn‘t having it.
„if you can send me whole videos of you bouncing your pussy on a vibrator, you can also watch me fingering you in a mirror.“, she whispered almost dangerously low into your ear, her tone laced with something sinister that caused your body to grow hot… and your cunt to painfully clench around nothing.
„let me propose an offer.“, just then, her fingertips slowly sneaked their way into your slit, „if you sit through this lesson without any more complaining and manage to properly get off on your own fingers… there‘s a little reward waiting for you… alright?“, her voice came out silky, reduced to a soft pur as she hummed, pleased to find your eyes fixed back onto the wet mess between your legs.
„a-alright…“, your breathing became heavier the deeper her fingers pushed in until she was knuckles-deep inside your warmth.
„good girl. feel that?“, slowly she began to feel up your walls that were gripping onto her so tightly. peruere only chuckled, „missed me, hm?“
„hah… hngh… o-of course i did…“, you said, as you pressed yourself more into her chest. she felt so warm. so comfortable. the faint note of her usual cologne still clung to her but it lit up a flame of desire inside of you that you only ever experienced with her.
„adorable… we have several options now. you could start to move your hand back and forth…“, she demonstrated by pumping her fingers slowly in and out of you, drawing a moan from you in the process, „or curl up your fingers and search for your g-spot. it usually sits two to three inches behind your vaginal opening, right…“, electricity suddenly shoots down your spine as her two fingertips delicately press and rub into your spot, „…here.“
„o-oh archons-! h-how-?!“, you clenched the fabric of her pants in your hand as she continued to massage the sensitive spot inside of you with ease.
„after knowledge comes experience, darling. you could also combine both methods and just…“, she had you squirming around in her lap by the first pump of her fingers, curling them up each time she slid them back into your hole, „…fingerfuck yourself however you please. you can vary the pace, the motions, just whatever feels better to you.“
something, something with motions… speed… how did she expect you to pay attention with her fingers showing you what heaven truly looked like?
you were so focused on these experienced fingers working their way inside your pussy that you didn‘t even process her next words.
„and now it is your turn, sweetheart.“, the whine you let out when she retreated almost brought the older woman to her knees.
you were just too cute in her lap. cute and unfucked. too unfucked for her liking.
„m-my turn…?“
„how am i supposed to know that my little lesson bore any fruits without a test? come on. make good use of those fingers now and pleasure yourself.“, her voice was dripping with professionalism, as if she were talking to a student.
despite the humiliation being still very much present, you obliged to her demand without as much as a simple nod. moving your fingers down, carefully sliding them through your wetness, „a-and what about my r-reward…?“
crimson eyes were fixated on the way you circled your clit in the reflection of the mirror before she leaned back, supporting herself on the mattress with her arms, „so impatient… i will only properly reward you once you manage to get off. on your own. after all, i don‘t reward slackers.“
archons, she was strict.
but did her tone only add further to the heat resting between your thighs?
fuck, it did.
and you needed that strap-on badly.
so you watched her expression falter for slightest moment when you shoved you fingers back inside your warmth and they went in so easily. you gasped at how smoothly they went inside you, how welcoming you were compared to a few minutes ago that you leaned your head back onto her shoulder when you started to search for your spot.
easier said than done.
„i… i-i can‘t i find it, peruere…“
„you can, angel. it should sit right above your fingertips now. come on, we don‘t give up so easily here. think about your reward…“
she didn‘t tell you that she will still pound your cute pussy senseless, even if you fail.
she just won‘t be as gentle with you.
„i-i don‘t have as much experience a-as you do…“, your voice trembled with your growing frustration when you missed it yet again.
„darling, i‘m a whole decade older than you. i assure you we are getting-“, peruere watched your legs jolt as a moan rung through the bedroom, „…there. my, was that so hard now?“, a knowing smirk played around her lips as she watched fall apart in her lap. all on your own.
this was different. so much different from someone else doing the work, it was even slightly better than that. you knew what motion felt the best already, the pace you wanted to set and quite honestly- you regretted not looking into your own pleasure like this way sooner. but having a 38 year old overworked woman lead you to the right path… oh, what a wonderful world you were living in.
your orgasm felt like warm hug embracing you, washing gently over you but leaving you nonetheless breathless, aching for more.
„my, look at that… aren‘t you just the sweetest little thing…?“, she didn‘t wait for a reply when she moved over to her nightstand and fished out… her very own strap-on.
„h-huh…?“
„what? don‘t tell me you changed your mind about the reward, doll…“, and truth was that she just couldn‘t wait any longer to fuck you into the mattress. with how needy your eyes were still looking at her, the way you rubbed your slightly trembling thighs together, your fingers already pulled out but the hand was still resting between them.
like a little lamb waiting for its sacrifice.
and she needed you. bad. she wanted to make up for the years you wasted with the wrong partners, showing you what you‘ve been missing out on your entire life.
her.
„n-no no! i-i didn‘t change my mind at all-!“, you crawled towards her side of the bed where she was currently standing when she started buckling up her fake cock.
the sight of you kneeling before her on the bed, tits pressed together in that skimpy top of yours forced her to wet her lips.
you will be the end of her.
„lay back. legs spread. mhm, just like that.“, she had to suppress a groan when you exposed your soaked pussy to her eyes once again. the way she could make out your nervous breathing by how fast your chest rose and fell back down. you were excited.
„good girl. now show off that pretty cunt to me.“, her throat visibly moved when you spread your folds open for her once more. one moment she was standing, the next she dropped to her knees, hungry lips roaming over your warmth, a tongue greedily lapping up your juices as muffled groans filled the tense bedroom air.
it was almost a reflex when your hand found home between her hair strands, pushing her further into you when you couldn’t stop the sounds of pure ecstasy any longer.
yet, peruere didn‘t devote her mouth to your pussy much longer, already leaving a hot trail of messy kisses up to your tummy, tattooed hands working the fabric of your top over you tits, giving them both a treatment consisting of biting your nipple and making sure to cover those beautiful girls in lovebites beyond recognition.
„o-oh god- fuuuuck… p-please…!“, you whined, whimpered, whatever. hands tracing the outlines of her trained biceps when she fucking finally towered over you, lips swollen from treating your body like a temple, crimosn eyes dark with nothing else other than carnal desire.
„you want me? you want my cock inside that tight pussy of yours, hm?“, she purred as she grabbed your right leg and placing it over her shoulder when you felt her rubbing the shaft through your slickness.
the way you shook your head up and down like a total maniac was all she needed.
„then you shall have me.“
often peruere didn‘t look like she was approaching the 40 years mark.
but those hips made sure to remind you of it yet again. slamming so perfectly into you, her cock settling each and every time against your cervix when she bottoms out, like a puzzle piece falling into place.
she swore she could feel you gripping onto the silicone, how you sucked her in as if you were about to starve and despite not even being penetrated sexually herself- she was groaning from the deepest pits of her throat. not caring about your juices staining the sheets underneath you or her sleeping pants.
„p-peruere…!! p-peru-!!“, you mewled in the sweetest tone as you grabbed into the sheets until your knuckles turned white, tears forming in the corner of your eyes from how deep she was penetrating you from the inside.
„all those before me, did they ever fuck you as good as me? did they ever have you screaming over their cock like this, hm?“, the both of you overheard the sound of the bed creaking underneath her almost animalistic pace if it weren‘t for your skin slapping together. you could almost mistake it for a round of applause.
however, your answer was clear.
„n-no-! th-they didn‘t- Hngh!!“, your spine melted into a beautiful arch when she angled her hips to go after that one certain spot, stars already dangling around your vision from how well she was fucking you.
not even your climax stopped her. it only further motivated her to press your legs up until your knees were almost touching your ears so she could rut as deeply as possibly into you.
she hated how she couldn‘t get pregnant more than anything else right now. nobody ever made her feel this wanted as you in that moment. how you begged for her, pleading for salvation in form of her cock and what not. you wanted her fuck you into this mattress for eternity, to turn you into her own personal doll to play with.
„mine… mine, all mine…“, giving into the urge to kiss you stupid almost made her cum herself. the moans that were swallowed by her own lips, your arms snaking around her neck to keep her pressed against your body as she held your face in her hands as if you were but a precious diamond she needed to be careful with. a strong contradict to how she was plowing into you and how strongly the room smelled of sex.
and if your place was underneath her with seven inches filling you up, then so be it.
your world almost shattered after yet another exhilarating high when she pulled out, not even the slightest hint of her being out of breath yet.
„don‘t look at me like that, sweetheart. i‘m not even remotely done with you yet.“, her biceps strained as she picked you up as if you were nothing but lightweight to her before flipping you over on your stomach, „hips up.“, a hand patted the fat of your hips and you obliged more than happily.
a pillow was placed underneath you and you also dragged another one over to rest your head on. you knew she was about to rock your whole world.
or: how you unfurl Arlecchino
content warnings/ info: 6.2k words, angst, hurt/comfort, my interpretation of arlecchino's story quest (may be inaccurate), scenes in the beginning jump back and forth between time, lots of switching of povs
“Pureure,” your love had stated abruptly, two years into the relationship on a terribly ordinary day, no prior context preceding her response. You missed it at first, oblivious to the gravity that her utterance carried; rather, you were more focused on preparing the cups of tea for you and Arlecchino. Absentmindedly responding with a curt hum, you finished pouring the tea into her cup before approaching her, beverage in hand, offering it to her. She took the cup in her hands, but she didn't drink.
“What was it you said?” You inquired.
Arlecchino remained silent, as if contemplative, as if hesitant. Something uncharacteristic for the Harbinger. Peeling your sight away from the cup, you lifted your gaze until you met her eyes, red pupils glaring back at you. Over the three years you had been with her at that point, you’re able to discern the smallest of details. That included the slight furrow of her brows, the pursed lips bordering on a frown, and the most marginal softening of her eyes.
“Arlecchino?” You gently encourage another answer, reciprocating the compassion she seldom held for anyone but you in your tone and your expression.
“Peruere,” she enunciated with an unseen faltering, and you suppressed the urge to question it. She elaborated no more.
You repeated the sound. “Peruere.” It was foreign to you, a word you've yet heard of before, yet it stirred some sort of ease inside of you–it felt right on your tongue for some inexplicable reason.
Her lips parted, but nothing but an exhale escaped from them. Her eyes widened to a barely noticeable degree, but it certainly didn't mean there was no effect on her. She pursed her lips tightly after, her stare on you never leaving, but you had the sense that there was something else she saw in that moment. The glow of her eyes weren't as bright.
“What is it?”
“My name. My name before her Majesty bestowed the name Arlecchino on me.”
‘Pereure,’ you repeated throughout your thoughts. Arlecchino shared little of herself, even with the growing proximity between the two of you. While your lover knew every intricate detail about you, there was hardly much you could say about her: her preferences, her upbringing, the source of her nightmares, and the reason for her frequent, blank, longing stares at you. You knew that there was no need to pry into her being, to pick out and uproot every bit of her that she meticulously hides away, just so that you could console yourself that you loved her just as she loved you.
But it gnawed at you, the knowledge that you could be knowing nothing of the person you loved. How could you call yourself her lover, when she couldn't confide parts of herself in you, when you couldn't even know her favorite flowers, when you couldn't comfort her after a nightmare, when you couldn't support her as much as you could? Insecurity had crept up your spine over the years, clawing at your insides as you tried to assure yourself you were enough for her, but how could you be?
But when she whispered her name, like an intimate secret concealed away from the world, just between you and her, it sparked a hope in you, and there appeared an irrefutable fondness in your eyes that made the Fourth Harbinger nearly stumble over.
“It's beautiful, Peruere,” you said to her, your eyes awfully warm for someone so cold, and the tenderness in your voice was enough to melt a bit of the ice encasing her heart. More than anything did it make her bleed out, the thumping organ in her chest cut open as she suddenly became sixteen again, her red-crossed pupils beholding a familiar carmine-haired girl for a moment that seems to extend farther than time. She blinked, and then you reappeared.
Arlecchino stated nothing. Instead, she leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead.
For the Director of the House of the Hearth, nightmares used to be commonplace. That is not to say that they no longer haunt her, only that they appear in the still moments, flickering alongside shadows and phantom whispers that echo in empty rooms. Brief remnants from a past still claw at her at the back of her mind, anticipating vulnerable, opportune times to lash at her and rise to the surface. The mocking leering from a cruel Mother ghosts one ear, and the innocent, childish laughter of a girl that never grew up lingerie on the other ear. Peruere–because it is not the feared, reliable Knave that stands in the place of her–experiences a multitude of these dreams, some that tangle and warp her present and childhood altogether, and others that are more singular, more insistent on leaving her with a reminder.
It is this nightmare, the only one which she remembers so vividly, that haunts Peruere past beyond slumber.
A blanket of white expands past what she can see on a flat, barren plain. The ground gives under her boots with a soft crunch and her fur coat shuffles as the wind moans. All that illuminates her path is moonlight, luminous and full, and the dancing lights in the sky overhead. She tilts her head up, observing as the viridian rushes forth and across, flowing freely like a fickle stream. Viridian, that of a similar hue to…
“Beautiful, isn't it, Perrie?”
Her attention is drawn away from the aurora, and when she turns to the side she is met with gleaming, emerald eyes. Clervie peers up, in a red stained white dress, an innocuous smile paired with starkly dead eyes. The lack of visible breath from her tells Peruere that Clervie is undoubtedly dead.
“Don't you want to see this with me?” She presses. Even with her sweet words, Peruere knows something sinister lies beneath them. Peruere must not falter.
At the lack of answer from the cursed being, Clervie continues. “You can see this with me everyday. You can be with me. I miss you, Perrie. Don't you miss me?”
She does. Everyday she does.
Peruere remains steadfast, stubborn and resilient as Clervie had always known her for. Even when her words are alluring, drawing something deep within Peruere that she was not even aware was alive, Peruere wills her mouth shut, in fear of what she might say, in fear of what she will not be able to take back.
The apparition changes her tactic.
“Aren't you tired?”
Peruere is.
It is this damning question that haunts her, latching onto her like a parasite in everything she does. Waking, breathing, moving, thinking, somehow they all carry an inescapable exhausation to them. Even when she tries to, the truth is forced out of her, a simple, raw, “I am” tumbles off of Peruere's lips.
“Does it hurt everyday?”
How can it not? Not when she carries the sin of killing her former lover, and her siblings. How often does she have to bury one of her children in her heart? Even for her own children, she cannot eliminate their suffering, less of all, hers. Her cursed blood surges through her body, aches and pangs that nearly consume her everyday.
Clervie offers a hand, kind and warm and everything that Peruere wants to surrender herself to. “You can come with me. I promise it won't hurt anymore. You can give up, Peruere. You outlived Mother. You don't have to live alone anymore.”
Peruere stares at the hand, small, pale, and most of all, unstained with blood–welcoming, even. She refuses to take it, even when her fingers itch to.
Then Clervie asks the most damning question of all: “Why won't you give up?”
There's no answer from Peruere. She cannot find the answer, even when it lies on the tip of her tongue. When she parts her lips, nothing comes out, and she wonders if she ever could answer.
There are a few things that you noticed when you first worked for her. All the miniscule details that you stored away mentally, for any future use that may allow you in her good graces. You weren’t aware of it then, but those details were what led to your relationship development–from boss to girlfriend. Arlecchino said early on in the relationship that one of your most alluring qualities was your attention to detail, always so keen on observing every bit of her until you knew all but everything of her.
In the first month after your transfer to her, you’ve narrowed down her favorite teas and which one to give her in accordance to her outward mood. Liyuen Black tea in the morning for energizing, Inazuman Green tea during midday for a more soothing feel, and Lavender Melon tea for the evening to unwind. In the third month of working under her, you’d leave a tray with a teapot and cup for her on the desk that she'd inevitably return to when the moon reaches its peak. She bathes in the moonlight, sipping Chamomile tea, even with the knowledge the blood flames that course through her veins will never allow her to rest.
She tells you only in your eighth month that the tea is a futile but appreciated gesture to cure her sleepless bouts. It does not deter you; instead, you often pair the tea with a small side of honey beside it. There is no harm in sweetened things, after all, when sugar cuts back the bitterness of reality.
There are other things that you notice about her.
Arlecchino claims herself as a strict and unfeeling Father. At first, you had believed it well into the second week. Piercing stares into her children, as if she were gauging them, inside and out for every imperfection and fault she could pry out. Words harsh like the creaking of a door that echoes through the house with sparing touches, as cold as the Snezhnayan snow. Her interactions with the younglings beyond Fatui-related matters are few and far in between.
Then there are the times when she observes. Unmoving, just like her expression, but her gaze never ending, always lingering. The observed never notice, but you do. It matters not what the children are doing, whether reading quietly among themselves, chatting boisterously, or even eating pastries, she watches. Sometimes you think her lips twitch a miniscule amount, but it is gone as soon as it appears, like a wispy ghost. It frustrates you, like deciphering a brick wall, evident of nothing but its unyieldingness. Like grasping embers that fade out of existence before your fingertips.
You wonder why she watches, wonder what thoughts her mind conjures. Perhaps there is an underlying warmth to her actions, to the calculated callousness of her methods, or maybe that is just wishful thinking on your part.
It only takes half a year for her to stare at you like that too–somehow all of your mundane routines have captured her attention, whether it was interacting with the children or fixing something in the kitchen. You’re aware of her, painfully so, by the way her crossed pupils dig so deep into your skin that you still feel the imprint of her intent gaze when even after she looks away. Her behold searing as if she were burning you with her crimson flames.
(Every budding affection charred until ashes, pruned before it could blossom, and with that any thorn that may appear.)
What does she see when her eyes falter on your form? You suppose that you'd never know.
A year into your relationship, Arlecchino asks you to retrieve some files in her bedroom's closet. For as long as you've started sleeping with her in the same bed (give or take half a year), you've never explored the rest of the room–you felt that it wasn't right to. You find the wardrobe she detailed, and try to recall what drawer it was she wanted you to find. Was it the last one or the second to last one? Curse your poor memory.
You open the last drawer, expecting a file folder. Instead, you find two plush dolls, resembling bunnies, laying side by side one another innocently. On the left, a rose pink rabbit, with floppy ears, beady jade eyes, adorning a floppy bow tie and snow white headband. The tuft of what you assumed was hair stuck out from the head, and the tips of the ears were white, as well as the lower half of its face.
Adorable.
The bunny (or rather, hare, you realize) to the right is white and black in color. Bangs cover up the left eye, and even with the bow tie and cutesy appearance, it's easy to tell who this toy is supposed to represent.
You suck in a harsh breath, curiosities swirling in your head.
Quickly, you slide away the drawer and open the second one, finding the file folder you were sent here for and grabbing it. You shut the closet door resolutely, the image of the plushies never escaping your mind.
You can ask her at a later point.
Death comes for all, in the enemies she has slaughtered or in the lives of her children that slip past her. Even for Archons, death comes to, and Arlecchino knows that herself is no exception. Fate will come to her too, either in the agonizing, cruel way that catches the Knave off guard, or it will be in the way like her curse–slow and inevitable, a dull pain that swallows her surely. The curse will continue to rise past her forearms, and head towards her heart in a decade or two, she suspects. In any case, she believes that her death will come shortly, and there are many things that she cannot dawdle on because of that inevitability.
Before her demise, there must be one of two conditions to be met. A self-imposed goal. One, she finds a way for the House of the Hearth to be permanently freed from the Fatui, which in her remaining lifetime is unlikely. The second is that the House of the Hearth has a suitable successor to take her place, ensuring that the children will live safely and contently beyond her.
Lyney is already shaping to become an exemplary successor. There are some more lessons for him to learn, but it will not take long–a few years at most–until he is ready. She is no longer concerned with the survival of the House of the Hearth, as her son would be an even better Director than she is.
So, should death come to her in the near future, she would accept it graciously and without regret. She's fulfilled her purpose, protected who she could as best as she could, and while she has yet learned of what a family exactly is, she knows Lyney is brilliant enough to find the answer. And if not, Lynette, Freminet, and the rest of his siblings will show him the answer. She does not feel that the life Clervie gave her has gone to waste, and to some degree, she has seen and made the House of the Hearth into the ‘family’ and ‘home’ that Clervie had always wanted.
There is not another reason for her heart to beat longer.
Yet, her heart does. She’s discovered another reason for her heart to continue beating.
The Knave is not afraid of death, make no mistake, but when her gaze falls on you she despises that she wishes for her life to extend a second a longer. Thoughts of a longer future are discarded just as they appear, driven away with a mental swat as if they were nothing more than nuisances. Her death will surely approach soon, so why is it that she wants her end to delay? She has nothing left, she has accomplished everything, why must she want more? When her touch grazes you, why is it that all she can think is where next to touch invoke such a flustered reaction? Why does she imagine more of your future smiles towards her?
She does not need one more reason to continue living. And she realizes with a heavy heart that is the chink in the Knave's armor, what makes her most afraid: wanting to continue a future she does not have.
About eight months after she's revealed her true name, you learn of a second name.
A blackened hand raises, stroking your cheek with a rare tenderness that's only extended to you, and your eyelids flutter. Sunlight streams through the window, painting Peruere as an angelic being, and her white hair emits off almost a heavenly glare. Red crosses greet your drowsy gaze, softened by your appearance.
Like every morning for the past year, you've always awakened to the unmistakable warmth that belongs to Peruere. With the blood flames that course through her body, along with her Pyro vision, always on her person, she’s always hot to the touch. You find that you don't mind. On the more crisp nights, when she draws you closer underneath the covers and your bodies fit together like one whole, you can't possibly trade for another place to be. She is your hearth, a sanctuary that stokes the embers of your heart. You live inside of her heart, as does she in yours.
It always takes a while to break the comfortable silence between the two of you. With how busy the Haringer is, finding quiet, intimate moments like these throughout the day is difficult. Basking in each other's company makes it all worth waking up and trudging through the day, then falling into each other's arms at night. Words are needless now, not when every touch or gesture is enough to communicate what the two of you need. After some while, Peruere breaks the silence by recounting what must be done today. Today is no different.
“There's someone I’ve needed to see for some time,” she says, breaking your trance from admiring her lips.
“Do you need me to see them?”
She remains silent for some moments. “No. But I’d like you to.”
An unusual answer from her. Who is this person she'd like to meet? What kind of person are they, if Peruere wanted you to see them? What is their relationship? You could count very few individuals whose presence Peruere tolerates enough that she'd want you to see them. It's likely not Fatui-related in that case, not when she could hardly endure a minute with her fellow Harbingers, and her patience wore rather thin with other operatives. From her personal background then?
You try to recall what you've learned about Peruere’s past. A frown forms when you determine that it's very little. You knew not of how she became a Harbinger or her circumstance before taking the mantle of ‘Father.’ What you knew amounted to what she gave you about her curse, her real name, and the stuffed animals. You had never asked about, but occasionally the image of green buttoned eyes and the scarlett bunny flashes through your mind. If Peruere represents one of them, who was the other one? For now, you shove away the thought.
“Then I'll go, if that's what you want,” you finally answer.
Peruere nods, before wordlessly rising from bed.
Arlecchino treks the same path up the mountain as she has times before. Her feet move on their own, as if the pull to the ruins were ingrained in her very muscles. Every time she's visited, it's always a sullen journey, as alone and cold as what remains on top of the hill. With each step, the air seems to thicken, and the bloodflames lick away at her veins, daring to consume her. Her frozen heart hardens until it grows heavy, dense enough that she feels it sinks into her stomach and that familiar suffocating, oppressive weight settles inside like an insidious parasite.
Her heart is relieved by the most miniscule amount with your presence. One clasped with yours, and the other firmly holding the bouquet of Lumoudice Bells, she continues. She wonders if you can feel the way her heart thumps so erratically, so unlike the strict and unfeeling Father, the ruthless diplomat. How can one measly life disturb her when she's taken the lives of so many? She banished the thought away, because she knew her first love would never be just ‘one measly life.’
If you knew of Clervie, what were you to think of her? What were you to think, with the knowledge that her first–and only–friend died in her arms, her blood stained on her hands, and pierced by her sword? If you knew she had clung to Clervie beyond death and forced her day after day to wander, afraid, distraught, and alone, around a house whose walls haunted her, what would become of her in the eyes of you?
Perhaps, you would see her as the monster Crucabena raised–maybe you too would burn from her cursed flames, and she'd be left with the only fate she could not defy: being alone, like how a wretched monster is supposed to be. Her only company would be the curse that gradually chokes her until she is buried in the ashes of all those close to her, and her life too will be snuffed out like fading embers.
The blood flames nicks her, and she momentarily embraces the sting that spreads through her form.
“Peruere,” you softly call out, concern dripping from your tone, and oh, how you do inexplicable things to her heart. She opens her eyes, and for a moment, she thinks she sees a glint of viridian in your eyes, before it flickers out of existence in a blink.
She shakes her head to dismiss your worries, before looking ahead. The ruins come into view, and she wills the blood flames passive. Her forearms itch.
It's been nearly four years since she was last here, these crumbled walls and the overgrown stone floors make the resting place for both Clervie and her shadow. The sun–the same sun whose warmth Clervie had always wanted to feel–beams over Arlecchino just as it had done on the shadow.
(Arlecchino wonders, when she held the dying girl for the first time, whether the warmth of her cursed flames could ever replace the sun's warmth. Would Clervie have been just as content, just as free for even a second, were she in Peruere's arms? For as cursed as she was, were her flames enough to be Clervie's Hearth?)
Twice, here, she had said her farewells. Now, it's the first time that she's greeting Clervie since they first parted.
She doesn't remember when or how she made her way here. Before her is a crude gravestone that she made after Clervie's death, hidden behind some rubble. She can still recall the way her hands terribly trembled and ached, as she hand-carved every letter and number onto the stone. She could barely register the pelting of the rain as she dug, and dug for what seemed like an eternity, but the weight of her body as she raised and lowered her seemed etched into her muscles, and–
“Peruere,” you say, and it is your warmth that jolts her when you intertwine your fingers with hers. “You're shaking.”
Indeed, her hands are trembling by her side, the bouquet bunching tightly. Inhaling deeply, she recollects herself, willing her hands to stop.
“This is Clervie. She was…” Arlecchino begins but just as quickly pauses. She detests how difficult it was to grasp onto words when speaking was just as effortless as breathing.
‘Everything’ she almost wants to say, and even the admission makes her chest churn agonizingly, her heart compounding into itself as if it wanted to hide from the truth. Those words are far too vulnerable, too revealing. Arlecchino attempts to find an appropriate substitute for the word but for once, she is at a loss. In an effort to reclaim some of her composure, but when she spots your gentle eyes, she sees a patience unfound by her from anyone before, an empathy that would swallow her whole if she continued staring into the abyss. A look that completely disarms her, that loosens her lips, that cracks her hardened exterior, and the emotions that have been welled up inside of her for years thrashes against its restraints, barging against her throat to escape. Peruere finds herself at the center of ravaging waters–waves of buried memories, of reserved sorrows–and even the cursed flames underneath her skin threaten to sear her. But even as the tides crash over, Peruere stands steadily. Here is not the place for her to crumble, not the time yet for you to see all of her walls peeled back. So, for now, she beckons the currents back into the well of her being.
Her eyes flick away from yours, instead, looking up at the expanse of the sky. Peruere sees white clouds, reminiscent of Clervie's dress. “She was dear to me. She was my sole companion for much of my lifetime.”
You do not say anything for a few moments, long enough that Arlecchino starts doubting herself that you were even there until you finally say, “Do you miss her?”
Miss her. Those two words can not attest to the amount of longing she has had since Clervie's death. Even now, a pang strikes through her, the bittersweet image of an adult Clervie–a Clervie that had the chance to grow up–appears at the forefront of her mind. If Clervie was here beside her, she would describe all the things the clouds resembled. “I do. But I would imagine that she would be at better peace now than with me.”
Another bout of silence. This one is shorter than the last, cut with a simple question. “Would you like to talk to her?”
She has never once thought of talking to Clervie's gravestone. What could be said to someone who could not respond? Arlecchino supposes, however, that there is no harm in doing so. She glances back down onto Clervie. Even if they never reach the intended audience's ears, it will act as a release for all of the unsaid words Arlecchino has. “Yes, I would.”
“I'll wait for you. Take as long as you need, Peruere.” The grass crunches behind her as you walk away, the sound growing quieter until it fades away. Once it does, she crouches down to place the bouquet of Lumoudice bells.
“Clervie,” she addresses softly to the gravestone. “It has been a while. I apologize for not visiting sooner. I hope that you are faring well.”
What should she say? Arlecchino does not often converse with the dead.
“The House of the Hearth remains lively as ever.” She stops, recalling the more memorable events that occurred. Clervie would surely be amused.
“We saw another addition to the family just a few months ago. I had taken in another child, Claude. He appears shy, but I believe that he will soon find his place among the rest of his siblings. Like you, he is an avid reader. Lyney has expectedly made earnest attempts to befriend him, but Freminet, with their akin quiet nature, would likely be more successful. Speaking of which, Lyney and Lynette's magic show has been prospering, and Freminet is included in some of the shows as well. He is becoming an increasingly beloved performer among the fans, and I do hope this will boost his confidence.”
She ponders for a moment of what else to add.
“The children persuaded me to allow them to keep another stray cat, an abandoned kitten they found in an alley. I believe they called it Pumpkin, though I am certain it is a cover name for a more crude title. Two weeks ago, while I was working in my office, I was disturbed by an explosion. It appears that Foltz and Heloir were baking cookies, or what I can assume they were with the charred remains of their efforts.”
Arlecchino lets out a huff of amusement, before continuing, “[Name] scolded the two quite thoroughly. They did not take to their given punishments so graciously, or at least less graciously as they would have had I issued the reprimand. [Name]’s generosity grants them that freedom, yet I cannot find myself especially irked with this. It is a welcome addition–[Name] is a welcome addition to our lives. The children have grown quite attached to [Name], and I…”
A beat of silence, an instant to formulate adequate words.
“[Name] is precious to me. They remind me of you, Clervie, in their kindness. You would have loved them. I had thought I would not find another person that would stay. But [Name] did. They are still here, and they do not intend on leaving. I cannot be any more grateful. They are attentive, gentle, and protective of the children, and to me… I cannot tolerate being without them. I could have never thought I would long for another just as I had for you, Clervie.”
A deep inhale then exhale.
“I had always wondered why you had given up your life for mine. Was the life I had lived worth yours in exchange? As of recently, I feel content with my life. Not yet satisfied, you know I am far too selfish and greedy to be entirely satisfied with this, but this is a life that I do not regret building. I am closer to the family we have wanted to build together as children, and… I think [Name] would be a good ‘Mother.’ Is it okay to ask [Name] to take your place? To be the ‘Mother’ we have always wanted?”
There is no answer, nothing but the moan of a wind, but Arlecchino is satiated.
“I should part soon with you. The children will wonder about my whereabouts, and [Name] grows anxious when they are away from the hotel for too long. I will visit you again. Next time, I promise a slice of cake so I ask you to wait for me until then.”
“Farewell, Clervie. Rest well.”
Arlecchino stands up, but stops before she fully turns around. “I nearly have forgotten to tell you. The aurora was just as beautiful as the ones in the pictures.”
It starts with a red rabbit and a white hare. The children are all largely asleep, and in the comfort of your shared bed on a quiet, intimate night Peruere takes out two plushies, the same two that had mystified you ever since you discovered them in an obscure drawer. Finally, you knew of who the other plushie belonged to.
“I met her at the House of the Hearth. We were both raised there for as long as I can recall, underneath the former Director, ‘Mother.’” Peruere sharply inhales, running her thumb over the face of the Clervie doll.
“Clervie was Mother's biological daughter, and she was the only one of the other children that could see past ‘Mother's’ facade. Mother liked to sweeten us as if we were candy, only to spit us out when we could no longer satisfy her. However, our siblings never saw beyond her cloying words and faux affection. From the very beginning we were trained to fight each other. Mother isolated us from our peers, so naturally, a friendship grew between us.”
“I spent every breathing moment alongside her, despite ‘Mother's’ attempts to separate me from Clervie. ‘Mother’ favored me because I was her strongest among my siblings, while Clervie was the weakest. But that did not dissuade Clervie, even when my other siblings feared me. In fact, my lack of companions only emboldened Clervie to become my friend. Clervie was my sole companion for years. Much of what we had was shared: meals, books, beds, clothes. Whatever I had was Clervie's, and what was Clervie's was mine. And so were her dreams.
“One day when we were six, she came up to me, bright-eyed and determined despite the numerous bruises she gained from ‘Mother's’ punishment, with a declaration. Clervie wanted to make a real family, one that shed no tears or blood, one where she would be a mother that loved her children equally, and her children would love each other. She wanted to make that family with me.
“I do not know of what a family looks like, and I do not suppose that Clervie knew either. But even when ‘Mother's’ cruelty shed away her naivety in the later years, she still held this dream dear to her. Clervie took to fantasies much more than I did, but I played along. We would imagine ourselves as parents of our pretend family, Clervie, the gentle ‘Mother,’ and I, as the stern ‘Father.’”
These,” Peruere holds up the plush version of herself, “were the results from that. Our ‘children.’ Children often take on the appearances of their parents, so we likened them to ourselves. My look-alike was Clervie's, and hers was mine.”
“But that dream did not last. As our time inside the House of the Hearth grew, Clervie realized that making our home into a true family was impossible. So, Clervie began to dream of freedom. Freedom for not just herself, but for our siblings as well. When she became shy of a teenager, she made attempts of escaping. ‘Mother’ would always stop her and make an example out of her to dissuade any attempts from the other children.
“At sixteen, we finally learned why we were being taught how to fight. From the very beginning, ‘Mother’ had been grooming us to be participants of our very own death game– we had to fight each other to the death. Only the strongest would arise alive, and would be crowned with a meaningless throne over the mountain of their siblings. Clervie had always tried to get the others to draw, to reduce as many deaths as possible, but ‘Mother’ had always made sure that there can only be one victor.”
“Clervie and I were the last alive out of our siblings. One by one I dominated the duels and slaughtered our siblings. The night before our duel she said to me that she sought freedom, and the only way she can achieve it was in her death. I granted her that freedom and became the sole survivor. I trained nonstop everyday after her death to be strong enough to kill ‘Mother’ and I had achieved that a year later, in the exact same place I last held Clervie.”
Peruere finally stops, silence filling in the space between you. You are breathless, trying to piece together her past. What could even be said after that?
She sets down the plush on the bed, silently offering it to you. You take the plush with delicate hands, as if the toy would shatter upon the slightest touch. Knowing the history behind its owner makes it feel heavy, dense with the foreseen tragedy you know appears in Peruere's and Clervie's story. You cannot imagine the current Knave holding such a cutesy toy, but the vision of a smaller, baby-faced Peruere cradling the plush to her chest like it was the only comfort the world would grant her… it clenches your heart agonizingly. Knowing that she was so small but endured so much… you wish that you could give that tiny Peruere and Clervie all of the care and love they deserved.
Pushing back the tears that emerge from the corner of your eyes became difficult. When Peruere noticed your tears, a blackened hand came up to your face to wipe them away. You lean in against the warm hand, your sobs coming in more rapidly. Oh, Peruere, you can not help but think, how is it that she is still so full of love? How is it that the child that grew up to be the love of your life, someone who would dedicate her entirety for each of her children, suffered so much? How could fate be this unjust to such a kind soul?
Nothing held you back from practically lunging at her, grasping onto her and sobbing into her chest. You look up at her through a blurred vision, and even now there is hardly a hint of affliction on her. For how stoic she was, your entire body wracks with sorrow, for all of the emotions she herself could not express, you experience two fold. She holds you the entire time wordlessly, and never stops wiping away your endless tears.
“You were so small,” is all you can comprehensively babble when your sobs begin to recede and you start hiccuping. “It’s not fair. It's not your fault. It can never be.”
Peruere's eyes widen by a fraction at your statement, her lips part in a stunned silence, and her body tense, as if she was in disbelief. As if you had just healed a broken part of her that had been that way for her entire life. Her hand twitches, and her expression smooths out when she brushes away the last of your tears. “I apologize for making you cry.”
You shake your head, refusing the apology. Sinking further down into her embrace as if trying to weld with her, you cling onto her, assuring her that you would never leave. Your hiccups ebb away, and the two of you lay together, bound by one another's entangled limbs. Your ear is pressed against her chest, listening to the rhythmic drum of her heart.
There is one more break in the silence before the two of you succumb to slumber.
“Would you like to see the aurora with me?”
Author's Note:
please don't let this flop please don't let this flop please don't let this flop
sorry for not uploading anything for 2.5 months. does this make up for it? i've had this idea worked on since last year, if I'm not mistaken, since at least august, and I only had just recently started working on it after I gave up on it for a good while. after this ill work on whatever i feel like. but it might be slow.
if you like this please talk to me through my inbox im very lonely also i spent forever on this. 😓 feeding my ego will motivate me to write more btw
context: your wife just can’t get enough of you <3
cw: heavy cunnilingus, pussydrunk cantarella, squirting, overstimulation, involvement of aphrodisiacs, not proofread sob
this is so short but i just HAD to write for her.
nsfw utc, MDNI!
your wife loved creating her own little mixtures of surprises in a bottle. wether it involved poisons, sleep aid, sedatives or… aphrodisiacs.
and she loved trying them out on herself. never on you. she wouldn’t dare in her wildest dreams. of course, the poisonous ones barely affected her due to her resistance but the more… „playful“ ones on the other side…
„ca- ah-!! i-i can’t-!!“
they had a rather strong effect on her.
when you were sprawled over the sofa in front of the aquarium with your wife‘s tongue lapping up every possible fluid that she drains you of, concentrating became a bit hard. especially after your fifth orgasm, legs quivering around the matriarch‘s head as she committed herself to the sweet dish in form of your pussy before her.
groaning. nails digging into the plush of your thighs as they keep you strictly spread open for her mouth to feast on. the purple lipstick already sticking to your inner thighs. the same thighs that were covered in your own slick from you spraying your arousal over her face.
yet she was still hungry.
but can we blame her?
the sex potion she dunked down earlier to your arrival just made it impossible for her to resist you. the moment you stepped foot into the room she was all over you. hands only getting rid of the most important stuff before shoving you butt-naked onto the sofa where her ancestors used to handle out important deals, negotiations and… assassinations.
only for cantarella fisalia to eat the living daylights of her wife out on them. the satin was soaked to the brim with your slick, just as the rest of you.
just how she likes it.
she loves the little mess she always reduces you to.
glassy eyes. smeared makeup. hands that didn’t know where to hold on. a swollen clit that was screaming for her lips to treat it to another massage.
you were so utterly perfect like this.
and the aphrodisiac seemingly worsened it. only making you seem like heaven incarnate to her. did your juices always tastes this good?
she wasn’t sure. didn’t care enough.
all she cared about was drinking you up the like the finest liquor stored in her cellar. your cum coating the flickering tacet mark on her tongue as she quite didn’t notice the jellyfishes that started to idly float around the room.
eyes rolling into the back of your pretty head when her two thumbs spread you open for her tongue to plunge into your warmth. you didn’t even wanna know about the servants listening to the pleasured cries of the matriarch‘s wife.
but you also didn’t care.
not when with your cum gushing over her mouth once again. what didn’t fit down her throat was now running down her chin and dripping over her beautiful tits, which you will have to clean up late of course.
with your own tongue.
don’t get fooled and think she is already done with you! she didn’t even get the chance to rub her own wet cunt over your own as if you were just a mere toy for her to get off to.
the sweetest poison inside porto-veno castle will always be you.
First time I'm ever putting an ask, its not really an ask tho just me putting down some thoughts, but as the 2am thoughts got to me last night, my brain decided to remind me of your latest angst fic and had me re-read it. I did and I proceeded to sob. So I'm just going to say great fic, loved it 20/10 will read it again.
Then, as i scrolled through your blog, I saw that you are planning on making part 2 👀 here to say that you have another person in line patiently waiting for it in case you do end up writing it and praying you make it fluff because I really need it. The fic was angsty enough, I need some fluff in life. My brain created a fluff version that I'm coping with, but I fear that isn't enough.
Anyways, hope you have a great day/night! So sorry if I have bothered you <3
hello hello! the face u were up at night and thinking about my fic is so wild 😭 i hope i have time to write a part 2 lmao ive been a little busy and demotivated but ill make sure to try my best ahaha!
and also ur not a bother! little asks like these really cheer me up ahah
