hi question do u write for mha if so what characters slurrpeprp
also! thinking about husband dottore who loves you so dearly who makes the other fatui members jealous because he fucks you sooo good and they could never :(
i’m sowwy i’ve never seen mha :( i hope this makes up for it sweet dolly mwah
dottore’s sweet little wife is well known among the harbingers. it’s often that she’s seen walking about the palace with him and accompanying him on whatever excursion he’s attending next, decked out in classy coats and refined jewelry that speak of both adoration and ownership.
scaramouche seethes in utter jealousy every time your moans ring throughout the labs. it’s like the doctor enjoys getting him worked up before a procedure - scaramouche is just left strapped to a table and waiting while his ‘caretaker’ handles his so called ‘loose ends’ before getting to work. every pitch of your voice and cry of il dottore’s name make scaramouche’s stomach twist in jealousy, so much that it’s covered in white by the time the doctor actually makes it down to the exam table <3
arlechinno thinks it is beyond crude to have you beneath the desk while she’s simply trying to keep il dottore up to date on recent events, though her fist clenches behind her back almost as tight as her teeth. the idea of your sweet tongue pressed against her clit under her own desk almost made her panties soaked where she stood - if arlechinno really strained to listen past dottore’s arrogant voice, she could hear your choked gargles around his thick cock. how lucky he was to have such an obedient little wife on her knees for so long. heaven forbid the doctor ever leave her needy for a moment too long.
capitano can’t help but steal glances at you from under his mask every time he makes his way down to the labs for his medication. he’s as gentlemanly and polite as they come, always regarding you with the pleasantries of a soldier - but the heat in his voice always carried a palpable sense of lust. dottore most definitely noted it, but maybe he just liked seeing you squirm around the undeniable mass that was the first harbinger. the doctor never corrected his single superior, knowing that at the end of the day it was him who made you come undone. capitano never seemed to cross that line, either, his desire never daring to bridge past the low rumble in his larger than life chest.
signora sneers whenever she sees you dangling off of dottore’s arm, dark red lip curling in disgust. how could such a vile creature like the doctor claim such a sweet lamb like you? it was like watching a wolf shred carnage upon grass every time he dragged you onto his lap in the middle of a meeting. how infuriating it was to watch him flaunt you so unashamedly, and how humiliating it was that she wanted to watch it happen. she wanted to find out what about il dottore was so special and why you would choose him over her - was it his deft fingers that peeled you apart, or his sickeningly saccharine words that keep your head stuffed with lies? it was often signora had to remove herself from the room when it came to you two, unable to trust herself to keep her hands at her sides.
pantalone knew the doctor’s hold on you was too tight to even dream of undoing, but that wouldn’t stop him from being a sleaze. sure, his colleague would forever be the one to call you his and would forever have the right to undo you as he pleased, but in pantalone’s books? you were as good as his. all he needed was one lapse in judgement from the second harbinger. one expensive mistake, maybe an experiment gone wrong or a mission under his name that just happened to be sabotaged. all pantalone needed to brand his name on you was a debt, then you would realize how much of a husband you were missing.
bonus; tartaglia who all but begs to fuck you, day and night. unashamedly confident and cocky, the young harbinger basically threw himself at you any chance he could get, presence of the doctor be damned. why was it that every single one of his coworkers be so utterly debauched? were they all so dense as to not understand the devotion of a vow? one needless press from the eleventh was too much for dottore and he finally snapped. seems to be tartaglia is easily restrained when prompted, though the eleventh is much more unhappy with his situation when the doctor starts pounding you in front of him. his pleas from earlier turn desperate and even more annoying, but dottore can drown these ones out easier with your pretty moans to help!! <3
it's been a while, hasn't it?? i'm sorry for being gone for so long, there's been a lot of events happening to me over the past couple of months. enjoy something short while i cook up more ideas
cw: arlecchino x wife!reader, light possessiveness, domestic fluff
art made by cherrymisu_ (tiktok)
The House is quiet, expect for the dull whisper of a quill and the crackle of fire in the hearth.
She hasn’t moved from her desk in hours.
Stacks of paperwork sit like towers beside her, their shadows long and sharp across her desk. Arlecchino doesn’t notice. Her hand moves with machine precision—ink, stamp, signature, next.
You lean against the doorway for a while, watching the fatigue pool beneath her eyes.
“Arle, darling.”
No response.
“Arle, it’s almost past midnight.”
Still nothing—just the faint rustle of another paper being signed. You cross the room and slide a plate in front of her, the warm scent of soup and bread cutting through the candle smoke.
“I told you not to wait up.” She mutters.
“You say that every night.” you reply, taking the quill right out of her hand before she can protest. “And every night, you don’t listen.”
Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t reach for it. “I have responsibilities.”
“And I have you.” you say softly, placing a spoon between her fingers. “Please, eat.”
She stares at the food like it’s a foreign concept to her. Then, with a quiet sigh, she gives in only because it’s you.
“You’re insufferable.”
“You say that a lot.” you tease. “But you never tell me to let you be.”
Minutes pass. The silence feels softer now. She finishes half the bowl before speaking again.
“You shouldn’t have to look after me, ma chérie.” she says quietly. “It’s… not your duty, nor your responsibility.”
You rest your chin on your hand, eyes meeting hers. “Then let’s call it desire.”
Toots ik you got a whole lot of requests but hear me out 🧏🏻♀️
Jealous Arlecchino oneshot with smut or suggestive ending🧎🏻♀️
Like her and her hot af wife (reader) going on a lil mission in a different nation and have to continuously speak with a woman who the Fatui has connections with to help them
And reader and said woman are getting along TOO good and while reader is thinking this is some cute girls-bonding-time the woman is literally drooling over her and trying to keep her away from Arlecchino
Arlecchino notices ofc 🤗
The rest is up to you, but please no degradation or like “you were enjoying her attention” type thing in the smut/suggestive part <3
vexations.
Pairings: arlecchino x fem!reader
CW: nsfw, female reader, afab reader, jealousy, fatui member reader (rank not specified), weird lady get tf away, uh moew, the sigma inside me is yearning for deck, lowkey the no degration part gave me an idea, strap on use, praise, small bit of marking, not proofread.
A/N: GIRL OMG lowkey I love that you kinda said no degradation or the attention relishing thing bc honestly I don’t like that kinda stuff either as u can see from like a lot of my work I avoid humiliation and stuffs I like fluffy sex SO YOURE SO REAL FOR THAT BC IT KINDA FEELS WEIRD YK anyway hope u like this yayayay 🕯️
“Arle hurry up! The negotiator won’t wait forever.”
A soft nudge brushed along the blade of your shoulder as you tilted your head over, noticing your wife leaning at your side upon catching up from behind you. Arlecchino breathed out a quiet hum in response, the crisp winds of the howling sky assaulting your skin in a cold fury. Usually, the weather in Fontaine wasn’t overtly cold as it was now, typically balanced between being fairly warm yet decently cool.
Usually, your time with your dear wife was cut short from the barrage of missions piled up one after another, shrouding her schedule immensely. Mission after mission led to Arlecchino trudging out of the house with her infamous fluffed harbinger coat hung loosely over her shoulders, deep eyes looking back to the opening in annoyance upon being unable to spend more time with you. She dreaded it. The prospect of leaving you all alone so early in the morning scrambling along the fluffed sheets for her touch, only to wake to an empty edge in disappointment.
Although you were in fact slotted in a position within the ranks of the Fatui, you never found yourself venturing out on an array of missions like Arlecchino was. Preferring to keep to yourself as you weren’t exactly the brightest when it came to negotiations. Each day, you found yourself lounged on the couch of your shared home, cheek squished against the flat of your palm in anticipation for the door to creak open to reveal your beloved herself. You could only sigh as the clock hand flicked over agonizingly slow, your eyes lowered as your muscles tensed to await her arrival.
However, things were quite different when it came to the Tsaritsa’s request for negotiations in Fontaine’s watchful eye of justice, as it drew caution to Arlecchino having to go alone. It was quite clear on how oddly strict and valued the Nation of Justice’s view on lawful order was, posing a threat to her if she were to even slip up in the slightest manner. Not to mention, the Fatui were in fact highly fixated on and monitored especially in the nation, meaning every waking step she took in the streets would be monitored carefully one way or another. Of course, as the wonderful spouse you were, you had decided to take up to mission alongside Arlecchino, stunning even the Tsaritsa herself at your assertion.
Arlecchino’s eyes traced the fluffed pale clouds heaped along the clear sky, gaze lowering to the heavy stone gate solidly rooted into Fontaine’s earth. The two of you continued to approach the domed gate to one of the nation’s renowned cities, bustling crowds rushing through every corner in a split second once you both step foot through the gate. You found yourself clinging to Arlecchino’s arm at the swarms of people closing in, fingers subtly squeezing the fabric in mild discomfort.
It wasn’t long before she took notice of your visibly cramped form and furrowed brows as you grasped her arm for support, her arm circling your waist closely as a response to the gesture. Pushing past the crowd, you both ended up before a fine establishment resembling a hotel towering above you in an uncountable height of stories above. You pulled out a slip of paper from your jacket pocket swiftly, hand scrambling in the heaps of fluff before letting out a triumphant sigh upon finding it. Carefully, you unfolded the tattered paper, examining the building and the address before shoving it back and nodding to Arlecchino in affirmation.
A hollow gold light spanning across the hotel greeted you upon entering, bouncing off the gold handles before the front desk. Whatever address you had received, the negotiator sure was quite lavish in her tastes. Faint clicks of heels reverberated in your ears, the sound drawing closer with each tap against the floor. An uneasy feeling rocked within you as you could hear them, a sense of deception circling the atmosphere. You only pressed your shoulder to your wife’s to ease yourself, attempting to remain professional upon the negotiator’s arrival.
The woman’s eyes squinted down at you, clearly observing every minute detail that painted your complexion from head to toe, hand rested on her hip in a gust of silence swallowing the air. Blinking in surprise upon her hand stretching out toward you, her expression was strangely amiable, gaze lit up as she seemed ecstatic to meet you. “Ah, hello! It would be a pleasure to negotiate with you!”
You mindlessly shook her hand, puzzled at the sudden shift in demeanor from the woman as she grasped your hand. She breathed out a sigh as she pulled her hand away, huffing in response to compose herself before turning to Arlecchino. Her expression before Arlecchino quickly grew stern, voice dropping to one rather cold and unenthusiastic as they silently shook hands. The interaction alone only made your stomach twist in uncertainty, the sparking contrast in behavior she showed between you two clearly throwing you off.
“I suppose that you are in fact the renowned negotiator with such a high reputation among the Fatui?” Arlecchino inquired, voice low. You could pick up on the fact in no time that she sensed something off about this woman. She only breathed out an unsatisfactory hum in response and nodded, gaze darting back to you in seconds as her face lit up. Within seconds, you couldn’t help but stiffen when her pointer finger traced the bottom of your jawline, experimentally running it along your skin.
Rather amused at your confused look, she only smiled once more, pursing her lips together as she pulled away. Arlecchino’s gaze only grew dark as she observed her movements against you, mind stinging with displeasure at the diplomat’s unusual proximity toward you. She could only shake off that numbing annoyance elusively, looking away from the sight of someone else getting handsy with her darling.
Pulling back, the woman cleared her throat, folding her hands in front of her as she seemed satisfied with your jumbled expression. “Well..shall we begin with the negotiations? How about over coffee?” She mused. You nodded in compliance, glancing over at Arlecchino to note any objections. To which, she hesitantly provided none. Yet, she could only feel her skin bristle at the sight of the woman’s arm snaked over the back of your neck as a way of ‘guiding’ you to the said coffee store. Arlecchino was only left trailing behind, a maelstrom of fury embedded below her usually unfeeling face.
—
“Mm…(Name), sweetie, do you like the coffee I bought for you?”
You breathed out a puff of steam, expression relaxed as you only grinned at her in response. Perhaps she was to be trusted, as the negotiator had been nothing but kind to you, only treating you with the highest degree of affection and respect. Her adoring actions only led you to ease up around her, growing fairly close with her as if you were speaking to someone you already knew for years. Despite the relief that she was friendly, you couldn’t help but being unable to shake off the same uneasiness that jabbed at the back of your brain at her initial arrival. Plus, paired with her dismissive treatment toward Arlecchino only served to throw you off, shrinking away from trusting her altogether.
“Ah. Yeah…you really know your stuff here don’t you?” You chuckled in response, occasionally glancing over at Arlecchino who was left unchecked throughout the entire course of your “negotiations.” Arlecchino noticed your eyes frequently darting over to her, causing her to sit up from her slight slouch and dismissively wave her hand toward you. Nodding, you turned back to the negotiatior, elbows propped up onto the table and palms on either side of her face as she pushed her shoulders forward.
Suddenly, your wife couldn’t hold back her words for the sake of something so silly intruding on your original mission, leaning forward as she spoke up. “About the negotiations-“
The woman only shot the harbinger a sharp glare, cutting her off with a frown. Yet, it was plain obvious that Arlecchino wasn’t the meek type, a stir of hatred boiling within her for this sudden diplomat who came to snatch you out of nowhere. She held her tongue, yet not out of submission, but rather out of restraint—afraid she would be unable to keep her composure and snap at the high authority figure to quit her rather hands on approach toward you.
Throughout the course of the uncomfortably drawn out conversation, consisting of downright lewd hints thrown out from the negotiator toward you only felt like an eternity of malaise tainting the atmosphere. An annoyed scoff from Arlecchino finally caught your attention as she stood up, the silverware and glass rattling against the table from the sheer force of her palms planted onto the table for support to raise her to her feet. She huffed out once more, shoulders hunched over in order to retain her emotions boiling up within her.
Fangs of jealousy sunk into Arlecchino as she walked away from the table without a word leaving her lips, the bitter taste seeping into her mouth only pushing her further into a deep annoyance. She typically didn’t show any sort of emotion that would come close to nearly eliciting this type of anger from her, yet perhaps her sole affection toward you only fueled her otherwise closed off heart. Her guarded heart that only beat for you.
—
“A-Arle- mm..please..”
You lay helpless below her touch, soft gasps sharply rushing past your lungs as her lips glided along yours in a slow, passionate rhythm. Her darkened hands only curled around your wrists to hold you down, continuing her flaming kisses burning against your tongue as your eyebrows raised with that needy expression she loved oh so much. Quiet pants echoed in your ears as Arlecchino pulled away, eyes glossed over as the woman hovering above you looked foggy from your slightly blurred vision.
You couldn’t help but relish in the feeling of her sharp nails dragging along the protruding veins of your wrist in slow circles, crimson lipstick smeared across a new area of your throat every time you looked down. Arlecchino only hummed in satisfaction against your flushed skin, her own body weight along yours locking you down in place as the strap fastened around her waist pressed down onto your lower abdomen.
Muffling through your endless barrage of whimpers, you managed to breathe out through her relentless assault on your body. “I- ah- m’sorry Arle..I- didn’t realize she- mm..was doing that..I promise I didn’t enjoy-!” Your voice resembled that of a choked back sob, immediately hushed by Arlecchino’s soothing voice vibrating from her throat.
“Shh. It’s okay, darling. I would never think so lowly of you, and I know you aren’t that kind of person. The woman I fell in love with is below me, only desiring my actions in this moment, right?” She assured, lips stretching in a gentle smile as her pointer finger dragged down your chest all the way to your stomach.
You only heaved a sigh of joy, which was almost immediately cut off by a high pitched moan upon feeling her middle finger trace your slit. Your panting came out in shallow breaths as her x-marked eyes bore into you, gleaming red like that of a blood moon shone brightly to illuminate your complexion. Her touch was all that you craved in this moment, feeling a wash of affection overtake you at your wife’s calming presence soothing you in even your greatest moment of uncertainty.
Underwear nearly dropped down to your ankles, Arlecchino only seemed entranced by your slick glistening along your folds as such a gorgeous sight to behold. Her eyes darted back up to you once more, gaze meeting yours.
“May I continue?”
To which you only nooded eagerly, eyes flickering to her silicone cock pressed along your stomach. The second you felt the tip intruding along your walls, you immediately gnawed on your lower lip defensively, suppressing your inevitable noises.
Her lips pushed against yours once more, capturing you in a deep, languid kiss as her hips rolled against yours in circular motions, length fully pushing into you with each thrust. Your walls clamped around her faux cock like a vice, moans bouncing off the walls as her cock continued to massage that one spot within you. Everything was absolutely intoxicating. Arlecchino’s scent, her praises, her body pressed to yours, the way she was buried inside you. It was all as if she was so deeply connected to you that she never wanted to let go—as if it went to show how much she loved you with everything she had.
“Just like that. Archons, you’re fucking gorgeous.”
It didn’t take long for the sensation bundling up within you to finally snap, your walls tightening around Arlecchino’s cock to make sure she couldn’t pull back. Your juices coated the strap all over, the messy fashion of it dampening the sheets below you as she let out a satisfactory breath in response. Slowly, Arlecchino waited for you to come down from your high to loosen your grasp around her dick, her palm pressed to your face gently as she thumbed at your cheek in a reassuring manner to take your time,
Before long, you were strewn out on the bed, exhausted as Arlecchino’s arm was draped over you protectively. Her face was nuzzled into the crook of your neck, taking in your warmth as her nerves eased up. As she law curled up beside you, protecting you in her arms as you slumbered, it was as if all her vexations had disappeared from earlier today, her mind was finally put at ease.
That you were hers. And hers only.
—
The next morning, you met up with the negotiator once more, with her face twisted in confusion and mild hint of disappointment at the sight of Arlecchino holding you up to help you walk. Surely your legs weren’t functioning well enough after the previous night. The woman only tapped her chin with an unintelligible grumble, eyes darting away as you let out an awkward chuckle.
“I- ah..ahem..shall we discuss the negotiations..?”
Funny how quickly she had switched up the second she realized that you wouldn’t even think about leaving Arlecchino’s side. You loved her far too much to detach yourself from her arm even. You nodded toward her as you leaned your head onto Arlecchino’s shoulder, eyes dreamy and filled with a sort of solace tinged into your soul as you gazed up at her.
She stared back down at you with the same affection that she would only reserve for the likes of you, hand tightening into your protectively once more.
And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
A/N: WOOOO DID THIS ON A SCHOOL NIGHT IT IS 12:43 AM I THINK IM FUCKED BUT THATS OKAY 🔥🔥🔥
FINISHED MY PHYSICS LAB FEELING GOOD I LOVE EATING THE WALL I AM HORRIFIED TO SLEEP CAUSE I JUST WATCHED SMILE 2 AND HOLY SHIT THEY WERENT WRONG ABOUT NOT WATCHING THE MOVIE IF YOU WERENT IN THE BEST PLACE MENTALLY BUT THATS OKAY BC IT WAS GOOD AND I LOVE NAOMI SCOTT. I’m still fucking scared of the curse and the stupid entity tho
Why am I dumping this what this was a long ass a/n rant probably bc I’m traumatized from the movie lol I don’t wanna step foot in my hallway in the dark.
Anyway please enjoy dinner is served and back to school but break is soon so we’re good
(This idea has been requested by several lovelies and anons who wished something along those lines. It was a long while back, so I apologize if I couldn’t tag or respond to one specific ask.)
(Platonic, gn reader is a child. Short domestic satire)
Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Tartaglia (+ small Arlecchino bonus)
✧ Due to some mysterious circumstances that were too irrelevant to reiterate, Pierro was known to attend to all matters regarding your well-being. Though the Jester himself seldom graced the Palace of Snezhnaya, the sight of a diminutive, silent child was even rarer. That small, elusive child – was you.
“As your knowledge blossoms, so will you understand the merit of growth. The more hunger for knowledge you possess, the greater your intellectual progress shall become.” – The Jester spoke formally, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed off into the snowy horizon behind the window. “To withhold knowledge is to forsake power, and thus, you must wield it as a weapon.”
But when Pierro turns to face his audience, all he can see is your peering eyes barely peeking from the enormous desk. Sitting on the armchair that is way too big for you, your short legs barely touch the ground. And it doesn’t help that Pierro’s words are perhaps too… eloquent for someone your age.
“That is to say, little one, I am telling you forgot to do your homework. Again.”
You blinked.
“Little one,” – Pierro began carefully, his eyes narrowing. He knew your innocent silence was a cunning sign. Sensing his suspicion, you hopped off the armchair with agile speed and darted away. “Little one-! Return here at once!”
But your small form carried you off in the palace hallways, hopping under tables and chairs, you tested Pierro’s resilience as he chased you. Panting and screaming that you’ll “never succumb to the enemy” that is your homework; you refused your academic tasks and yearned to be what you truly are - a menace to the Jester’s sanity.
Yet despite the countless times you ran away like a little criminal and the many times that the Harbinger caught you swiftly in his gloved arms, he could never raise his voice at you. His scoldings would be met with sulking. Your woeful expression always softened his sternness, leaving him with two outcomes: either you would tire him out by running, or he would tire you out by following you.
And as the night wore on, the result always remained the same. Both of you found yourselves dozing in an armchair, wrapped in a cozy blanket, and lulled into slumber by the crackling fireplace. Pierro nodded off gracefully, his head resting gently on his knuckles, while you, enveloped in sleep and warmth, lay cradled in his arms, protected from guilt in the peace of Pierro's private sanctuary. Running around does tire one out, after all.
✧ Impressive in his ominous stature, Il Capitano towered above the smaller child. Despite your shy demeanor, you still stuck closely to Il Capitano's side, often hiding behind his coat; your hands clutching the fur as you shielded yourself from the intimidating Fatui troops working alongside him.
Capitano, however, harbored reservations. The training grounds were no suitable habitat for a small one like you. He was hardly a natural caregiver and yet, he knelt beside you, his pitch-black visage peering straight down at your awestruck expression. He expected his unwelcoming helmet would frighten you off, yet all you did was place your tiny palms on his helmet and exclaim: “Capi!”
“This place is not for a child like you. You shouldn't wander around these parts, darling. They are dangerous and you're much too small for the many sharp weapons stored here.”
You smiled at him, curiously trying to reach for the golden chains around his helmet. It seems you weren't afraid of him.
“You may be a fearless little warrior, but you must stay on your guard. What if an enemy came to swoop you up, small one?” - Capitano lifted you high, his armored hands careful so as not to poke your smaller figure. You just emitted a small happy “wee!” in response.
How easy it is to crack a knight's exterior solely with a childlike smile.
That's how you found yourself under his protective wing, never once heeding his warning as you continued to follow him diligently. Whenever the Harbinger was training, you watched. Whenever he did his usual warm-up push-ups, you tried to mimic. You obviously failed and quickly plopped onto the floor by the second push-up.
“Easy there,” - Capitano offered you to sit cross-legged on his back while he continued his pushups. You were much smaller anyway, so whether you hung on his forearms whenever he lifted weights or did pushups, it barely posed a physical challenge. You, however, were beyond gleeful to be involved in his training, your face awash in wonder as he hoisted you up with ease while you perched serenely on his back.
It's comical how this captain's reluctance turned him into now a caretaker of a small wee one; and an excellent one at that. He often carries you around, ensuring you are eating well after he is done with his morning training, and silently relishing your little yawns whenever you fall asleep by resting your head on his shoulder.
✧ Il Dottore sat behind his desk, the solitary glow of the desk lamp casting long chiaroscuro shadows that slithered across the lab. It was another silent night, save for his swift scribbling over scientific reports. Suddenly, The Doctor felt a tug at his leg. Humming in response, he glanced down to find none other than you looking up at him with a small bundle of your favorite comforter clutched tightly in your tiny hands.
“Hm? Can't sleep?”
You nodded.
With great care, Dottore lifted you to his chair and placed you beside him. One hand resumed its task, grasping his pen to scrawl his intricate research calculations, while the other rested securely on your back, ensuring you were steady on his lap. With a sleepy haze, you observed his writing - so many big words and different numbers. You pointed at one and inquired:
“Dottie… what is this word?”
“This is pronounced ‘metamorphosis’. To describe a transformation or change from one form to another, like a caterpillar changing into a butterfly.”
“Meta-fofis…” - you imitated to the best of your comprehension.
"Meta-morph-o-sis."
You parroted in a murmur, to which The Doctor rewarded you with a hair ruffle. While his reports were nearly complete, he paused, pointing to another word on the page: “And this, little one, how do you pronounce it, remember?”
“Um, axono-trophy.”
“Indeed, well done. And what is the meaning of Axonotrophy?”
“A condition where axons are destroyed due to disease.”
A prideful gleam graced Il Dottore's features. Your answers reflected not only a keen absorption of the various biological terminology but also his own success in mentoring you. Perhaps for regular children, such tedious topics are far from entertaining, yet The Harbinger saw the way your eyes beamed with curiosity at the many tomes of books, reports, and vials. And he would never forbid your curiosity like his homeland once did.
“A brilliant scholar in the making, little one. Excellent job,” - he patted your hair, letting you comfortably settle on his lap to rest. You hugged your comforter as he continued to work, a big yawn escaping you. Unaware of when you succumbed to the lulls of sleep, you drifted off, cocooned in warmth and security while Dottore silently finished his reports.
✧ Scaramouche released a vexed sigh, his patience being tested. He wasn't on a Fatui mission by any kind, yet his solitude began to wane as a smaller figure kept following him around in a less inconspicuous manner.
“You know you're not being sneaky, right? Stop following me around, kid.”
You flinched. The Harbinger turned to glare at you and you felt even smaller as he scolded you. You hid the item you brought behind your back, trying to conceal your bruised knees and scratched little fingers.
“I’m… I'm not following around, mister,” - you defend meekly, but Scaramouche only crossed his arms. “I made you a gift!”
What sort of present could a child even muster for a Fatui Harbinger, Scaramouche mused to himself. You looked so unkept, hair tangled, and dirt stuck to your sandals as if you stumbled somewhere around a grassy hill. The Balladeer raised an eyebrow but reluctantly obliged. He kneeled before you – “Spit it out, kid. What do you want?”
You stepped closer and with naïve determination - you handed him a crocheted little toy. It was far from a professional mastery, with some knots uneven, but the vision was clear. This little toy resembled Scaramouche, with short dark hair and a funny flat hat.
“I made this for you! Mister looks very pretty, like a doll! So I tried… to make one.”
Scaramouche stared silently, his lips parted. The black buttons of the round doll stared back at him. A brush of a certain memory swept him like the gentle breeze of early autumn; your bright determination, so radiant while you were so small, left him frozen. He saw all this before when he donned a different name, a different time. And although he wished to scowl and say ‘Why the hell would I want a doll?’ - he never dared to.
Instead, he held it up carefully and muttered – “Hm, I suppose it looks like me. Not bad. You did this all on your own?”
You nodded eagerly. The Harbinger decisively offered his hand, your smaller one clutching onto him as if he were an older sibling.
“Come on, kid. Let's get you cleaned up and tidied. Goodness knows when you last had a good meal, too.”
✧ What a jubilant day it was for Pantalone. He has just returned from a shopping venture; his servants aiding him with bags of newly ordered accessories and state-of-the-art attires. Little you sat plopped on a soft cushion, yet even to someone as minute as you comprehend the Harbinger's energetic pacing. It was one of those days when the 9th would go on some tangent about Mora. Again.
“You see dear, Mora is the true physical leyline of the human world,” - he stood behind you, busying himself with styling your hair delicately while you sat in front of a dresser. “It is what ensues power, gaining influence of the world's machinations.”
You watched as he proudly brushed and styled your hair, spending more time picking up the newly brought ties and accessories than actually styling.
“But there is more to it!” – Once satisfied with your tidy appearance, the Regrator picked you up in his arms, lifting you to his level. “I am not speaking about monetary gain, my little gem. I am speaking of what you value most in your life.
With one arm securing you, his second arm reaches for various items. He sets out some precious jewelry on one side, their shiny gemstones gleaming with pristine silver. Then he set down some soft plushies. Even the Fontainian toys he purchases are of foreign mastership with unique designs. And on the other side of the dresser, the last item he placed was stacks of your favorite books and pencils.
“Say, little one. Of all these things, which is most important for a young gem like you?”
Pantalone held you securely in his arms, a thoughtful look on his expression as you blinked in wonder. It seems he tried to give you some sort of speech about the difference between monetary gain, hedonistic lifestyle, and the value of work. Shiny riches, toys, or books. He waited patiently for you to choose, hoping that the simple representation of items would convey the seriousness of his questions.
You, however, simply blinked and peered at those jumbles of items. Instead, you turned to inspect him and decided on a straightforward answer: “Pantalone!”
So you just wrapped your arms around him.
The Harbinger tried not to weep. He never considered himself an option when comparing his value to Mora. He embraced you tightly in response, you were already wiser than him in many regards.
✧ the 11th of The Fatui Harbingers, Tartaglia, was no more. Now there is only the Greatest Toy Salesman in Snezhnaya. Or so would be his title if it was a synonym for beating bad monsters because you believed it most earnestly.
Eagerly, you followed whenever Childe was training, thinking that the shiny big weapons were something of joyous intrigue. The young harbinger would drop everything at once and swoop you in a hurry before you touch the sharp blades.
Interesting gauntlets worn by Anemoboxer Vanguards? Touch.
Interesting pyro-infused rifles held by Pyroslinger Bracers? Touch.
Dual blades gleaming whenever Pyro Agents tossed them? Also must touch.
All that and more were followed by Tartaglia’s hurried ‘No!’ as he rushed to your side. You were a small bundle of energy. And suddenly Childe realized how much of a nuisance he must've been to his dad when he was younger.
“Kid, how many times have I told you,” - he sighed, pulling you up over his shoulder. “Touching is a no-no if something is sharp!”
Hence, to put your curiosity into use, Childe made a miniature wooden bow for you, your new toy. Decisive in teaching you the baby steps of handling a bow, Tartaglia considered himself to be well off in the art of shooting lately; his posture even became better when aiming the weapon. This will be a good start to mentor you.
You were ecstatic, even if your arrows would plummet to the ground or way behind the shooting range. After all, similar to your curiosity, Ajax was also once a restless child like you.
✧ You stared up at the red crossed-out pupils boring into your soul. The tall lady stared back, her gaze locked into a cold narrowed shape. Arlecchino regarded you carefully, seeing your hesitation when you noticed her ashen black hands. Was it your child-like curiosity or fear that struck you to freeze still? Because the 4th of Fatui Harbingers knew the scent of gullible reticence.
“Go on now. Why the hesitation, child? Something struck your curiosity or is it fear?”
You stayed still, mustered up your courage, and stated: “Eyes… pretty! Red and black.”
Father’s narrowed gaze falters. It seems she misjudged you, you weren’t skittish like the usual little youngsters. A spirit of curiosity at such a young age must be nurtured. Thus, The Knave offered her hand, and your smaller one eagerly held onto it, inspecting the unique markings on her fingers.
“Hm, if it's a curiosity of the unknown you are displaying, then you must be a brave little one. But if it's flattery you’re trying to achieve, then know that it will get you nowhere.”
You obediently picked up the pace, walking alongside her, hand in hand, while Arlecchino’s heels clacked against the floor. Her shadow cast upon your smaller one, enveloping you like an unassailable eclipse against the world.
(as always, thank you everyone for the kind words and messages! Dw I see and read your asks❣)
warnings: smut (mdni), wlw content, fem!reader x transfem!drider arlecchino, dark content, stalking, breeding, oviposition, fingering, you're her human pet ♡, collars, arachnophobia, size kink, tummy bulge, nipple play, arle uses her webs to tie you up
a/n: kinksgiving yippee lmao
𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖋𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗
she watches you curiously, tied up so prettily in her webs while you squirm around in a futile fashion. your eyes are so wide, desperate, frightened as you struggle, oblivious to the creature watching you.
she creeps forward through the shadows, easily maneuvering through her own webs as she steps just hard enough for you to feel the vibrations and freeze up.
she'd been watching you for quite some time in that little cottage you lived in at the edge of her woods. she planned this perfectly, setting out bait of berries and herbs she knew would draw you in, only to trap you in her sticky web.
it was almost adorable how easily you fell for it. clearly you needed her to keep you safe. little more than a sweet pet, too curious for your own good.
as she revealed herself to you, your eyes almost brightened, and she wondered if you knew she was watching you. perhaps you actually had been hoping she would snatch you up. from how your breath turned shaky, your struggling ceased, she realized you were intrigued.
how... sweet. yet so foolish.
she helped you out of the silky strands, instead cradling your smaller frame to her body, carrying you back to her den. you were so pliant, she already knew you'd make a wonderful mate, and, perhaps, an excellent mother.
you had such a pretty body, such a sweet little look in your eyes when you'd kneel for her, dressed in nothing more than a collar she made for you.
clothes? you didn't need those anymore, right? she kept you warm, ensuring you stuck close to her side, enjoying her body heat while she enjoyed your soft form pressed against her.
and, oh, you were just as soft on the inside as you were on the outside. even better were the sounds you produced when her fingers slid into your sweet little cunt. she learned your anatomy rather quickly, easing the prettiest sounds from your lips as she crooked her fingers into your sweet spot.
"there, there," she hummed, pulling yet another orgasm from you as you shook against her body, feeling her limbs wrapping around you.
"c-can't-" you whine for her, despite your hips still humping against her hand. "too much-"
"hush, human." she merely mumbles, holding you tighter, rubbing her palm into your clit as you squirm. "i must have you ready for me."
your head was fuzzy, but you had enough sense to listen. "ready for...what?"
she pushed her body up against you, letting you feel the hardness pressed up against your back.
oh.
the squeak she received had her twitching, fingers pumping in and out faster. "it's my mating season, pet. we've talked about this previously, yes?"
you dumbly nod, remembering how she'd given you a long lecture on taking and laying her eggs. though, at the time, you zoned out, merely picturing her inside of you.
"good." she praises you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as she slowly pulls her fingers out, savoring the slick you leaked onto them. she picks you up easily, moving you to face her, your pussy hovering over her cock.
it was pretty, but thick, making you whimper when the tip brushed your hole. you squeezed around nothing and she sighs, rubbing herself across your slick entrance. "you must relax, human."
"you're... too big." you admit softly, your voice both nervous and needy. and it has its intended effect, softening the seldom sweet woman as she leans in, pressing her chin atop your head.
"you can take it, i can assure you of that." she pushes the tip into you, hearing you softly moan, grabbing onto her biceps the further she slides in.
she's thick, stretching you out but filling you with a pleasant warmth that makes you feel even fuzzier as you pant, head falling forward and onto her shoulder. "ah-" you squeak, back arched as she pauses, letting you grow accustomed to half her length. "full..."
she nearly purrs, breasts brushing your own as she feels your perked nipples. "there is still more to take." she tells you, but she pauses at your soft noise of confusion. "i...suppose that can wait if you're not ready. there is always next time, hm?"
you nod eagerly, hips shifting on the half of her fitted inside you, already feeling a little bulge in your lower tummy. one of her limbs slides to tease your clit and press on the bulge, earning a cute little yelp from you.
she eases you up and down her cock, little more than a toy for her as she eases just a bit more of her length into you with every thrust. she grunts, feeling you squeezing around her, your slick dripping down her cock and giving the dark flesh the prettiest creamy ring.
just looking at it has her twitching in you, needing to cum inside of you to watch it drip out all the same.
she begins to give you the same lecture on her eggs, though from the way your eyes have gone glassy and the way you begin to beg for her cum, she figures it's lost on you.
her thumb slides to your clit, rubbing little circles until you cum around her like the good pet you are, giving her the perfect opportunity to fuck you deeper, pushing her eggs into you as your face scrunched up, hands gripping onto her while your nails leave indents into her skin.
she groans, clearly pent up from how thick her cum is inside of you, already dripping out of you as your back arches up, nipples at the perfect height for her tongue to flick out and tease them until they're swollen.
she keeps you on her cock, plugging you up and admiring the image of her eggs in your stomach. her hand brushes over them, picturing the perfect family you'll both have so soon... and how she can't wait to do it over and over again just to see you completely fucked out.
her beautiful little pet.
she kisses your forehead, climbing back into her web, keeping you snuggled against her body, plugged up nicely while you fall asleep, pleased and comfortable together.
imagine being banged by both arlecchino and zani. zani would have white haired bush around her base while arle prefers to have hers shaven. while arle’s dick is on thinner side, it more than makes up for its length. i feel like arle’s tip would huge asf though. the type that would be caught in your entrance every time it goes in and out and its big enough to touch that one spot near your hole. zani’s girth would be thick and heavy and it doesn’t matter if she’s turned on or not, her dick always has veins popping and angry.
they’re both very stressed so any sexual intercourse with them is spicy to the t. the best position they like is of course any position they can be inside you at the same time. zani would pound your ass until its the shape of her dick while arle’s dick would be kissing your womb. sometimes they would feel each other throbbing and moving inside you. sometime’s zani would give your ass a few slap while arle pinches your clit from the front. sometimes arle would be biting your neck while zani fondles your breasts from behind.
they’d both have you on your knees as their cocks twitch in front your face. their mush covering your nostril and intoxicating you deeper each time you smell. both of them would slap your face with their cocks and have you thanking and worshipping their dicks the next moment. you’d kiss it lovingly while they smear their load on to your face, mixing with your tears and drool. they’d have you gagging and crying and screaming and you all would go at it for a whole night like animals in their heat. i mean thats what happens when you mate with two monsters.
Tags Vampire Arlecchino x Fem reader, blood, hunting, stalking, murder, face sitting, religious imagery, stone top arlecchino MDNI
Summary For an entire two months, the town of Kholodet has been terrorized by especially brutal vampire attacks. As a hunter, it's your job to put an end to the savagery, but it proves harder than you thought when a woman with glowing ruby eyes catches your attention.
A/N i haven't kept up w the main story since the end of Fontaine so it might be a tinyyy bit ooc
The crunch of boots against snow leaves a trail of footsteps behind you. Moonlight shines over the crystalline flakes of white surrounding you. The blizzard has calmed by now, making your job easier.
Snezhnaya is hell.
It's been two months since the attacks started. Each one has been brutal. All of the victims were unmarried men, found with a single ruby propping open their lips, like a suckling pig. Their limbs are bound behind them in a hogtie with black rope, twin wounds adorn their necks, and their skin has turned gray and cold from the lack of blood. Naturally, the murders have cause great scandal. Suspicions of an enraged woman, resentful of men for not committing to her, have sent the town into a witch hunt. It does not matter if the attacker is clearly a vampire and the accused have been seen out in daylight without burning. People want someone to blame.
Two innocent women have already been put to death. With the frigid air running through your hair and sending chills down your spine, you sit down at a nearby bench. A leather bag rests beside you, holding all the small pieces of newspaper and pictures related to the bloodshed—- as well as tools needed when confronting a vampire. Shivering, your gloved hands tremble as you take out your journal to review the notes. Its nighttime. The moon is full. You're sitting near where all the attacks happened, behind the church, looking out at a big empty field, with no lights other than the slight flickering of candles through the windows of the chapel behind you.
A heavy, oppressive pressure on your shoulders distracts you from the task at hand. Something is just not right. Despite being close to a church, God's grace does not reach this place.
Eyes darting around, you rub your hands together in a pitiful attempt at creating any sort of warmth. Still, there's nothing heard or seen around. Not even the sound of owls hooting softly. It's odd. After a few minutes of skimming over the lines inattentively, you decide to put the journal away. You already went through all your notes a million times anyways, you could recite everything line by line in your sleep.
A large sigh tumbles from your lips. The warm breath clouds and puffs up, smoke dissipating into the freezing Snezhnayan air. Your ears ring from the eerie silence. There's something there, you know it, it just doesn't want to be seen yet. The treeline seems to get farther and farther away the longer you stay sitting. Carefully, you ruffle through your bag and grab your source of security. A rosary—- silver, of course. That way, even if it tries to approach, it'll have a hard time getting to you. Your thumb runs over the smooth beads, and the anxiety beating away inside your chest settles.
"Aren't you cold, sweetheart?" A composed voice speaks up behind you—- with no tremble in their words, or chatter in their teeth. You gasp, turning around quickly to face the person behind you, hands reaching for the front pocket of your bag thoughtlessly. It's as if you were a lone rabbit being stalked by a wolf with glinting, sharp white fangs.
Standing before you is a woman with the most haunting eyes you've ever seen. Bright red, like rubies. The soft glow draws you in—- it's difficult to haul your gaze away. She steps closer. "I apologize if I startled you, but you're sitting here all alone. I'm sure you can understand my curiosity."
Your breath stops. Is it her? She approached you even with the silver prayer beads in your hand. Any vampire would have avoided you completely. She made her way over to the other side of the bench, sitting down. Politely, you move your bag, reclining it on your lap. "I'm just… thinking," you respond. If she is the vampire, she doesn't need to know you're out to get her.
"All alone, at night? In the same place dozens of people have been killed?" She crosses her legs, eyes piercing into you. A wave of heat rolls down your body—- settling in the pit of your stomach. Her presence commands power immediately. Spice, musk, and the faint scent of cigarettes invade your nostrils. Every one of your senses is being assaulted by her overwhelming presence.
"All the victims have been men, I think I'm safe." You wrap the rosary around your fingers absentmindedly. The red in her irises seems to sparkle. "The tide could change at any time," she warns. It sounds more like a threat than anything. Blood rushes through your ears. All you can see is the way her nails look like claws, how her breath doesn't seem to smoke up in the cold like yours does, and how her canines look so much sharper than they should.
"Why are you here? For church?" you ask carefully, hands tightening around the beads as you feel a squeezing around your throat. Maybe it's just fear clouding your judgment, but if it is her, you'll be ready. "No. Worshiping an undeserving god does not interest me," eyeing the gleaming string of beads between your hands, she purses her lips slightly, "but it seems like you disagree."
A deep hatred of religion. Could be normal, or it could be another sign of vampirism. You look into her eyes quietly for a few seconds, but the fiery red suddenly feels so icy and distant—- revealing nothing. Carefully, you turn back to face the open, snowy field. "It's not about worship for me. It brings a sense of comfort."
Her tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth—- lips twisted in a sort of displeased grimace. "The control and guilt bring you comfort?" She asks sarcastically. bitterly cold wind whips past the you, snaking up the many layers underneath your coat, and numbing the tips of your toes. No matter what, there is no escape from the Snezhnayan winter. Its relentless—- almost violent in the way which it engulfs everything. Not a single leaf or rock is left untouched by the thick layer of ice eating away at it. Little by little.
"Okay, I get your apprehension, but isn't guilt a healthy emotion? If no one ever feels bad for what they've done, they'll never try to be better." You reason, taking off your gloves and feeling the beads beneath your fingertips. The engraving of the virgin Mary in the middle has eroded, and turned the piece flat. Hardly anyone would have known it was there unless they looked for it.
Claws tapping rhythmically against the metal of the bench, she huffs. "I have felt more than enough guilt for simply existing, I don't believe being judged for everything else is necessary."
The trees go still, and the howling stops. Her face is blank. Expectant. Like she's waiting for you to lash out at her any second. Should you be? Feeling shame for being alive—- it must be for a reason. And you have a suspicion you know why. Blood growing cold, your heart freezes. "… why would you feel ashamed just for existing?" you ask warily. Your tongue is stiff from the arctic conditions, so getting the words out is already difficult enough, and it doesn't help to be alone with a suspected monster.
The woman stays quiet, staring into your eyes. Her ruby red irises seem to catch in flames. The faint glow of the candles from the church flicker against her pale skin. You never noticed how gray it looks—- how unnaturally it stretches over her bones. Breath catching in your throat, your hands curl up, looking for any semblance of warmth as a prickle stings at the back of your neck.
Silence stretches on eerily, while the anxiety gnaws at you, like frostbite eating away at whatever is left of you until it's all barren and useless.
"What are you?" Your voice wavers slightly, afraid of the answer.
Her eyes narrow. "Do you really want to know?"
Knuckles creaking painfully, your fingers twitching for a split second is the only warning she gets before you swiftly reach into your bag, hand curling around the silver dagger you had already prepared.
Unfortunately for you, she's faster.
With an icy grip, she twists your wrist hard, wrenching the blade from your hand. She presses the cool tip against your throat, in a silent threat. "If only you weren't so predictable," she mocks, "I was starting to contemplate whether you'd ever figure it out."
Without a second thought, you hike your leg up, planting the sole of your boot against her stomach and kick as hard as you can. A maelstrom of pins and needles spirals up your leg painfully. Her lungs wheeze out a pitiful breath before her eyes burn like inflamed coals. She barely feels it physically, but her first instinct at your weak struggle is to squash you like an irritating insect.
Gripping the dagger tighter, her thumb comes up to hold the cool silver against your neck. There's a loud sizzle and smoke rising from where the blade touched her skin, but she is undeterred. Your head rests back against the bench as you try to get as far away as you can, but her hand follows.
"You humans think you're the only ones who deserve to live," she spits out, "countless efforts to wipe us out have proven useless, and yet you still won't give up."
If you lean a bit forward, the sharp knife will surely cut through your skin like paper. Although you are the hunter, this woman is vicious—- easily holding you down. Her muscles are tense and ready to pounce no matter what move you make. For a few seconds, you stay still, just looking into her eyes and trying to think of something. You are completely surrounded by her, like a cornered animal. Her scent is inescapable and the burn of her skin on your shoulder is difficult to ignore.
After a minute, she seems to relax the slightest bit, and you take that as your cue to push against her chest—- finally getting her off. You only have a split second to try to get away from her—- from that monster. Rolling off the frozen metal, you crash into the snowy ground. She's much stronger than you anticipated, you must not hesitate for even a second. Quickly, you find your footing once again. She watches with shoulder hunched over, low to the ground—- you're the prey, and she does not intend to let you escape her relentless grasp.
In your panicked daze, you retroactively realize you forgot your bag—- the one with all your weapons—- on the bench. She notices how your eyes drift towards it, smiling frighteningly. Glossy, sharp fangs hide beneath her reddened bottom lip. Your hands clench as you try to think of a way to get it back. She would undoubtedly stop you from taking even a step towards it.
With no other option left, you launch yourself back towards the bench. A flash of black, white, and red darts behind you, as her claws tangle in your hair—- stopping your body midair. You crash back down onto the soft fluffy snow, the same one that will probably be covered with your blood and innards by the end of the night.
"Did you really think you'd be able to get me that easily?" she taunts, straddling your hips and pushing your cheek into the snow. It burns—- like shards of ice scraping at your skin, gradually eating away at the top layer of flesh. From the corner of your eye, you can see her contemplating, her head tilted as she observes the side of your face. "I have to say, i imagined you'd put up more of a fight. Who sent you?"
"None of your business." you respond, trying to swat her away. Her clasp on your hair constricts, pulling your head back harshly. An unintentional, pained groan escapes your lips as she leans in—- fangs dangerously close to your throat. An alarm goes off in your head. Your blood pulses, limbs throbbing, muscles tensing. Was this how it would end? At the hands of a vampire? An abomination to the world, a mistake? If so, God has a really sick sense of humor.
"I can feel the life beating inside you," she whispers, "I can tell you're terrified, sweetheart, so I'll consider sparing you, but you need to answer my question first. Who sent you?" Her nose grazes over your artery, filled to the brim with warm blood. She's so much stronger. It feels impossible to escape. She's even willing to get burned in the process as long as you don't get ahead. The rosary is still clasped in your hand, but it can't help. It's not like a dagger—- like the one she ripped away from you, ignoring the sizzling of her skin. Your eyes dart down to look at the hand she'd grabbed it with before discarding it somewhere in the snow. It has a large gash. The top layer is still bubbling angrily, eroding away the meat and sinew.
"No one," you relent. "I found the case myself and came to investigate." A low chuckle echoes through the otherwise silent air.
"And what? you thought you'd be the town hero? That you'd catch the big bad monster terrorizing the village?"
"That's not-" you start.
"Shut up." Her burnt fingers come up to wrap around your throat tightly. Not enough to stop your breathing, just enough to get her threat relayed to you. "I know what you insects are like. You're all the same. The earth does not spin for you, yet you act like you are the only life that matters, supposed apex predators. Well… I'll show you just how wrong you are. There is always a stronger animal."
Your building protest is cut off by her canines sinking into the soft tissue of your neck. Searing hot pain bursts through your veins as her mouth latches on like a leech. Electricity thrashes through your synapses violently—- stilling any planned movements. It's like nothing you've ever felt before and all you can do is watch in horror as the rosary slips from your fingers and she hungrily pulls you closer. Like she's afraid someone will try to snatch her meal from her.
Briefly, your mind wanders back to your old life. It will all have been for nothing soon. All those vampires you had caught before were nothing compared to her. They'd easily been subdued by a little holy water and a silver bullet. It's almost unfair. How could you have ever prepared properly? You want to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but deep down you knew this was how it'd end eventually.
It doesn't even feel like you're in your own body anymore. Helplessly, you watch from above as your skin grows colder and grayer. The coat doesn't help, and neither does her icy skin. You just wish, for once, you could feel the suns radiant rays on you one last time. To die warm and happy—- not frozen in the hell that is Snezhnaya.
Just when your eyes start closing, and your heartbeat feels faint, she pulls off, licking the excess dripping from your throat—- relishing in the shiver she draws from you. "I almost got carried away." she hold your head up with uncharacteristic gentleness. "You taste much better than anyone else I've fed from but… I wouldn't want to accidentally kill you."
"Hm?" is the only sound you manage to jumble out through your muddled thoughts.
"Confused huh?" her cold lips brush over your ear. "You are far too cute and much too delicious to let die… it would be better to keep you for myself." Carefully, she turns you to lay on your back. From this angle, you can see the light bouncing of her now-flushed cheeks. Wind floats through her black and white hair. You couldn't find a blemish on her perfect face if you tried. She looks alive. If you didn't know better, you'd think she was an angel—- sent down here just for you. There's a hollow in your chest at the sight of her. It's difficult to pinpoint just what it is.
The night is still as you two stay there watching each other—- waiting for someone to make the next move. She expects you to kick and scream, but the ache that accompanies a punch never comes. Even if you tried, she's too strong for your weakened state. The air and snow are nipping at your covered skin, but you can't seem to care enough to move. Her eyes are captivating. You've never seen anything like them in your life. Were they this bright earlier in the night?
Cracking skin covers your lips—- rupturing painfully with every gasp of breath you take. Inattentively, your tongue peeks out to wet them, tasting the metallic drop of blood seeping through the fissures. The woman's eyes darken. Her thumb gently presses against your bottom lip, gathering a tiny bit, and lapping it up. A hum reverberates through her chest pleasantly. You can't help glancing at her wettened lips, the way her sharp teeth glint in the moonlight.
She glances back down at you hungrily.
The sudden weight on your chest and the lips on yours are a pleasant surprise. Pleasant is an understatement. She's like magma—- hot and all consuming, swallowing everything in its path. For the first time the entire night, your toes and fingers tingle with warmth. Stiffly, your hands come up to rest on her hips.
She's relentless. Her tongue drags against your lips, demanding access. The heat feels like its fried your brain. You gasp out softly and she takes it as her chance—- deepening the kiss. Menacing claws grip your chin, forcing you into the angle she likes best. Numbly, you register the feeling of her canines against your skin, and you wish they'd sink in the rest of the way—- drawing sweet drops of blood. Heart thumping hard against your ribcage, you respond with just as much fervor, tangling your fingers in her black and white hair, pulling her closer.
Raw, arrant hunger consumes you. Her lips press against your jaw, working their way down, stopping at your artery to feel the frantic pulse there. "Even after taking so much from you… you're still so full of life."
Annoyed that she stopped, your nails dig into her scalp—- as if to urge her to hurry. She listens. Crimson eyes fluttering open, her burning gaze is on your face as she sucks and nips at your jugular. The hands snaking down your body don't help the overwhelming tremors wracking your body. You can barely move. "God…" you wheeze out.
"That's not my name," she sneers. Her sharp nails bite into the soft flesh of your hips punishingly.
"You never even told me your name!" you whine out, briefly struggling to loosen her grip on you. It only makes her squeeze harder. Her lips return to the assault on your neck.
"Arlecchino. You better remember it," she puffs out between kisses.
"Arlecchino…" you repeat breathily, head tilted back to lay on the freezing ground. Your eyes can't even focus on the empty black sky. Every time you try to glance at the radiant moon, your lids force themselves shut. Maybe its deserved. You shouldn't be allowed to glance at anything so beautiful again.
The woman slides down your body, pressing a knee between your thighs. "You've suddenly gone so soft." She crushes her hot, swollen lips against yours. "How could you possibly consider yourself a hunter when you're so weak for me?" The breath is sucked out of your lungs. Dizzy and delirious, you try to undo the buttons on her jacket but her burning hands stop you. "Not yet."
The scent of tobacco and spice is addicting. You wish you could capture her smell and keep it in a candle forever. There's just something about her you can't get enough of. Your tongue aches to drag against her skin. Fervent need pools deep in your stomach. The rosary is long forgotten in the snow. If she told you to get on your knees for her at this second, you'd be scrabbling on shaky legs to do as she says.
Electricity charges at the base of your spine as she presses her thigh against your clothed clit. Her watchful eyes observe your reaction—- the way your hips jerk down in desperate need of friction, the way the column of your throat is exposed, the way your eyelids shut tight. A low growl escapes her mouth. "I can't wait anymore." Her voice is low and raspy, filled with lust.
Bony, deft fingers undo the buttons of your pants, practically ripping them off as well as your boots. She tosses them somewhere in the general direction of the bench. Frost eats away at your nerve endings, leaving them frayed and split open at the ends. Her pointy nails hook over the hem of your panties and pause, as if waiting for your permission.
You find yourself unable to refuse.
Cautious not to hurt you with her razor-sharp claws, she pulls the offending fabric down your legs. The first thing you notice is how heavy her once-shallow breaths have gotten—- ragged and uneven. Her scorching gaze roves over your body, stopping between your legs. She licks her lips and wastes no time in hooking her hands underneath your hips, lifting you up with her strong arms to stay with both knees on either side of her face. A low buzz in your skull makes it challenging to process what's happening. You don't feel the cold anymore, just the warm huffs of air grazing your inner thighs.
A warm, wet tongue presses against your folds. Your limbs shiver uncontrollably, a quiet whine clawing its way out of your esophagus. Unable to stay upright, your hands brace themselves in the unstable piles of snow on the ground. "Arle…" you pant out. It's overwhelming, your body is frozen in shock. The whirring in your brain turns into a blizzard as she focuses on your clit, rolling it between her lips cruelly.
If you suddenly let out a pathetic squawk, or accidentally crush her head with your thighs, she pretends not to notice. Your limbs tremble and jerk out of your control, like a puppet on strings. Every cell in your body has been set ablaze. How are you going to leave this encounter alive? Embarrassing slick sounds fill the desolate atmosphere. God help you. This woman is voracious.
She's coming for your body now, and your soul next.
Excruciating spasms of fire shoot deep in your bones, coalescing in the space behind your eyes. The moon is barely visible to your glazed over eyes anymore. Her tongue snakes between your folds, reaching far too deep for normal person. A thrill of terror clenches down on your lungs—- getting oxygen into your bloodstream is far too difficult a task with her fangs so close to you.
When the fear takes over—- when your body slows its dumbfounded reactions, and when your skin feels the brush of winter against it once again—- Arlecchino's unnaturally long tongue reaches a spot deep inside you that makes stars flash disorientingly through your vision. "God- Arlecchino," you correct yourself, "Don't stop." You don't notice the way your voice has been reduced to hushed whispers through the pleasurable haze.
Her tongue abuses that spot, pressing and teasing until you've curled into a ball, barely able to keep yourself from falling face-first into the snow. A sob catches in your chest. It only makes her more eager. She purrs out a pleased "hmm" before pressing a single manicured thumb to your clit. Your body jolts like its being ripped apart and pieced back together. At this point, that might not be so unpleasant.
Muscles warm and loose, your heart feels ardent. The flares in your eyes are so bright you could've sworn it was summertime right now. Swamped by the sensations assaulting your body, your fingers curl in the snow—- not minding how the dirt and ice bury themselves in the space underneath your nails. Despite the chaos wrecking through your nerves, you can still feel the slow, churning build of lava in your lower belly—- slow and steady.
Arlecchino can sense it too. She notices the way your erratic pulses seem to plateau into an even rhythm, and the way you clench around her. It only makes her work that much harder. How her jaw isn't aching, you're not sure.
You finally look down at her. At the black and white locks splayed out on the ground. At the way her eyes are closed in pleasure, eyelashes gently stretched over her pale cheeks. Red splotches dance over her skin with life. She's breathtaking.
"Fuck, m'gonna.." you murmur airily, unable to finish your thought. Arlecchino pulls you down against her more, nails digging into your flesh possessively, urging you to do it. Your fingers trace over her hairline vacantly, watching as red blood rises to the top before settling down again, and her skin goes back to her usual lifeless color.
By now, the boiling in your gut is too vigorous to ignore. The lava rises steadily, exponentially gaining more force as it does. One last, harsh press to the spot inside you is all it takes for the gentle pressure to explode with passion. Your ears ring loudly, and your body is taut—- strung tightly and compelled to act against its will. It feels like your blood has been replaced with liquid fire.
As you come down from your intense high, you fuzzily register how you try to climb off, and how your shaky hands reach for her suit jacket before being redirected away. The last thing you hear before your vision goes black is her voice, oddly gentle. "Shhh.. don't worry about that, relax."
Your room smells off when you wake back up. It's the same as you remember, but it feels like something is missing. Everything is there. Your leather bag is resting on the floor where you always leave it. The desk is still messy and filled with different newspapers. The curtains are shut like always. What could it be?
Groggily, you stumble over to your desk. Your knees are reddened and sore. You know why, but you didn't anticipate it'd hurt quite so much. Pain shoots up from your ankles, calming when you finally sit back down, riffling through the different papers. They're all future cases. You'd planned to do them after Arlecchino's case, but with her still out there, you're not sure if you should. First, you should finish what you came for. Her.
Content with your decision, you look through your bag. She gave you back the knife, but unfortunately you lost the prayer beads along the way. The hollow in your chest stirs remorsefully. It's just a rosary. You can't explain why it's so upsetting. It just is.
You sigh and decide to go back to bed.
For a month, you wait for the next attack. Every night, you go back to the same spot. If she comes back, you'll be ready this time.
But the next murder never comes. It didn't usually take her so long to drink again. Did she go somewhere else? Should you try to follow?
Alas, no clues lead back to her.
Reluctantly, you start up work again like normal. The first case you take after Arlecchino's is in the town of Kartina. As soon as you settle in for the night, the air feels different. Much like it did that day. However, the assaults don't have her usual style. The killings are indiscriminate—- draining child, woman, man, and animal alike. You head out briefly to get something to eat.
When you return, silver glitters at you from the bed. Your eyebrows furrow. Carefully stepping closer, your eyes dart around for signs of a break in. They find nothing. The object finally comes into view and you can't help the shocked gasp that rips out of your lungs.
There it is. The rosary you though was lost forever—- now embedded with rubies. Your hand stings as it travels over the smooth metal and jagged rock. Was she intending to finish the job?
You barely sleep that night, it feels like the beads are burning a hole through your bag. The anticipated attack never comes. Within a few days, you finish the case and move onto the next town as quickly as you can. In case she is planning to kill you, you don't want to linger. A simmering buzz lays low just beneath the surface of your skin until you finally make it out safe.
The next case is in Nozh, a slightly larger city. Like usual, you set everything down and head out for food. Its livelier, with people milling about the town square, shop owners urging you to buy their products. As you look around, enjoying the chaotic air, a newspaper article catches your eye.
"STRING OF BRUTAL MURDERS IN KARTINA"
The picture is simple—- one of the victims, smiling. A man in what looks to be his late thirties going by the thinning hair on top.
Kartina? The town you just left? Your mind goes blank. In a daze, you rush over, paying the owner for the paper and reading through it as fast as you can.
There were five victims attacked in one night. All men. Tied with their hands and feet behind them, in a hogtie—- with a ruby propping open their mouth. She's sending a message. Is she coming for you next?
Your body tenses and you can feel heat on the back of your neck, like someone's watching. Whipping your head around, you find… no one. Only regular townspeople milling about and the treeline pushed back behind the plaza. No scarlet eyes or black and white hair. Strangely, you feel unsatisfied.
Completely forgetting what you went out for in the light of new information, you return back to your hotel room. The walk is filled with anxiety. Your eyes play tricks on you, making out shapes in the darkness of the trees and the howling wind certainly does not help. Something deep inside you gnaws at your overactive heart. The moon isn't out today, there's no light to guide you back—- just total, all-encompassing shadow.
The door creaks open loudly, hinges groaning around the years-long building rust. Its dark inside. Your hand clenches, trying to stamp down the slight tremble. You flick on the light, expecting to see her there on your bed, but she's not. That doesn't mean she won't come.
Tonight, you sleep with the silver dagger under your pillow. You won't miss this time.
She never arrives.
You finish the case in record time—- two days. You consider going back to Kartina to find Arlecchino, but there's a horrible feeling in your stomach telling you she's not there anymore.
The next case is in Kot. You follow your routine blindly. Get settled in, get food, rest, work. This time, you don't get that weird feeling in your chest. The air isn't as oppressive. No news coming from Nozh about vampire attacks. Nothing. It's a relief although… slightly disappointing.
You finish the job in a week. It's your last morning in Kot before moving on to another city. Deciding to indulge, you dress up warm and walk out towards a small breakfast place in town. It's been full all week, so it must be good.
Stopped once again at a newspaper stand, you look in horror as there's more stories than ever about brutal murders in all three towns.
"TEN KILLED IN NOZH"
"THREE FATHERS MURDERED IN SUSPECTED VAMPIRE ATTACK IN KOT"
All of them happened just last night. All in her signature style. There's no doubt about it now. She's following you. You need to confront her.
Your attempts to find her prove useless. She doesn't want to be found. You can always feel the prickle at your neck and the heat from her gaze when you're alone, but there's no sign of her anywhere.
As you move from town to town, more attacks follow. No matter what you try, you can't throw her off your scent. She's faster. Always.
Sometimes, when its dark enough and you're lonely, you'll catch a glimpse of her in the shadows, or across from you in a pond. But that's all it is. A glimpse. A flash of light. A lingering scent of cigarettes and spice. And when you have another sleepless night, you try to pretend you can't see those bright, burning eyes watching you from the window.
