Synopsis: How mean are the Fatui ladies in bed?
Characters: Columbina, Arlecchino, Sandrone, La Signora, Crucabena x Fem!Reader
Content Warnings: MDNI! Cunnilingus, body worship, soft dom, a bit of angst (Columbina), strap-ons, pillow princess in denial, tsundere talk (Sandrone), suggestive teasing, bathroom sex, nippleplay (Signora), Arle has a dick, doggy-style, finger sucking (Arlecchino), boot riding, spanking, collar and leash, orgasm denial, edging, hard dom (Crucabena), sesbian lex, established relationships
Word Count: 2.6K
A/N: I know i said i won't write for post-Natlan characters, but i think ive got a solid idea of Columbina and Sandrone (solid enough to write smut about them, that is). Also, why is there no content about Crucabena?? Like, I know she sucks but i thought we were into that :,)
[ COLUMBINA ] - 0%
Columbina couldn’t be cruel to you even if she tried.
Sex with you is like a divine ritual to her. Simplistic in nature, alluringly slow, and maddeningly gentle.
Gentleness… that’s how Columbina views love. To retract one’s claws and open up to the humiliation of intimacy.
She descends upon you like the setting sun, her head nestled between your thighs as her moonlit eyes flutter shut. Her frosty breath brushes over your heated core, drawing a shudder out of you. Her dainty fingers massage the soft globes of your ass as her tongue darts out to lick a strip between your folds.
“I can taste the divinity within you, my dove.” She coos.
Despite her mild mannered body language, there’s one crucial imbalance between the two of you. You’re a human. Your vessel is fragile and mortal. Columbina is something much more divine, therefore much more durable than you and often unaware of her own strength.
And while she may start off easy, it’s not long before she too gets lost in the sauce and starts devouring you. Her tongue swipes up and down with terrifying speed, plundering in and out of your pussy at a merciless pace. She nuzzles her bunny nose against your clit, letting you ride her face all you like. Other than that, the only thing you can do is writhe against the bedsheets and try to keep your head from spinning.
She pauses her ministrations every so often to check up on you. She often mistakes your cries of pleasure as vocalizations of genuine pain and quickly retreats. You try your best to soothe her worries; biting down on your swollen bottom lip and nodding excessively with tears in your eyes. She lingers for a bit, unsure, before returning to the half-finished meal between your legs.
Even after slurping up your fluids from your puffy folds, she doesn’t give you a break. She crawls up to your budding chest, cupping the weight of your tits in her soft hands. She gives them a gentle squeeze before leaning in to pop one in her mouth. Her lips pulse around your nipple as she tries to lick it without accidentally sinking her teeth in your pliant flesh.
You have to gently push a hand in her face and lift her head to snap her out of it. She opens her eyes to blink at you in confusion.
“Have I hurt you, dearest?”
You cradle her hands in yours and sit up. “No, you haven’t. I just… want to make you feel good as well.”
Columbina is used to being used. Most who come to her want a piece of her authority as a moon goddess; prosperity, luck, power, immortality… Most of her relationships are transactional.
But not you. You want her to feel good. So, you gently lay her down on the covers and get to work. Much like she did, you also eat her out.
She barely flinches or moans. Her melodic sighs are your only form of correspondence. So you keep going, occasionally pulling away from her blossomed pink clit to assure her that she’s doing great.
She doesn’t give you a chance to lap up her cum though. The moment you retreat, her limbs are locked around you and she’s intending to keep you hostage in bed for as long as possible.
“I believe something greater than fate has brought you by my side, my beloved…”
[ SANDRONE ] - 25%
Sandrone isn’t the most expressive girl on Teyvat.
The complicated song-and-dance she follows on her daily interactions with you applies in bed as well; dismissive and sassy on the outside, painfully human on the inside.
That being said, you’ll have to dive through layers of petty dom behaviour before she reluctantly reveals that sometimes, she just wants to be a pillow princess.
You’re sprawled out on her desk, tools and messy notes carelessly shoved aside to accommodate your shuddering half-naked form. The Marionette is especially strict when it comes to her workspace, so indulging your desires there is a love confession in and of itself.
Her gloved hands force your hips in place as she lifts her ruffled skirt to reveal an impressive strap-on (methodically engineered by yours truly, of course).
“Tch… can’t even stay still. I have to do everything around here, don’t I?” She scowls as she spreads your thighs and lines herself up with your entrance.
She tries to play rough at first. Gotta keep up appearances, after all. Her hips snap back and forth with an impressive speed that betrays her doll-like frame as she rams the tip of the makeshift dick against your G-spot. She tries to pretend that the mere sight of your face twisted in ecstasy doesn’t make her knees tremble.
She tries to stay unimpressed when you cum all over her. And no, your heaving chest, layered with sweat and her hickies, is definitely not doing anything to her. Get your mind out of the gutter, dollface.
“Already undone? And here I was hoping you’d last longer than last time.”
She loosens her strap on and faces away with a scoff, trying to ignore the painful ache between her legs. But you’re perceptive, so you’re quick to seize her by the wrist before she can dismiss you.
“Uhm, do you have more time? I want to help you out.”
Pink dusts Sandrone’s cheeks and she attempts to hide it with a frown. “It’s not that crucial, doll…”
“But I insist.” You coo.
With careful movements, you help her lie down on the table, like she’s made of porcelain. You secure the strap-on around your waist before driving into her. She presses a hand against her mouth in a futile attempt to muffle her moans. Still trying to play it nonchalant, she comments on your performance, but soon realizes that you know what you’re doing.
You set a proper pace, drawing out of her halfway before slamming right back inside. And just to be safe, you occasionally rub your thumb around her swollen clit. This completely undoes her. She throws her head back with a cry, and you swear you can even hear her artificial joints popping every now and then.
Make no mistake, she’ll make sure you remember your place after this. It will take ten more instances of her being on top before she’ll agree to bottom again. And she admits the fact that she enjoyed it in the most begrudent way possible.
“Fine. I suppose we can try it again next time.”
[ LA SIGNORA ] - 50%
La Signora’s face says it all; she likes to tease.
Seeing your flustered face is worth everything. Of course, she’ll allow you moments of respite where the two of you simply enjoy vanilla sex like any other couple.
But don’t get used to it. She can and will strike when you least expect.
Another boring business dinner, another opportunity for Signora to toy with you. While her colleagues go on and on about trade deals and politics and whatnot, her hand will slip beneath the tablecloth to trail its way up your thigh. She glances at you discreetly, smiling when she spots the faint blush on your cheeks.
She doesn’t stop there. Her hand slides beneath the hem of your dress to find your panties. She’s delighted to find that you wore her favourite pair; lacework, of course.
You chew slowly, trying not to flare up as Signora’s manicured nails dip beneath the fabric to caress your folds. They work maddenignly slow, thumb rubbing circles around your clit and index finger lightly probbing at your entrance.
You can’t take it much longer. With a stifled cough and a lowered head, you politely excuse yourself and rush to the bathroom. Signora is quick to follow, excusing herself under the guise of checking in on her darling.
“It must have been the fish. Archons know she can’t stomach it.” She laughs.
Upon entering the ladies’ restroom, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re the one occupying the lone closed stall. Signora gently knocks on the door.
“Darling? Are you okay?” She asks in a faux innocent voice.
You timidly open the door to glare at her with weak, needy eyes. “This is all your doing.”
She giggles as she lets herself in and shuts the door behind her. “My, my. Someone’s especially feisty today.”
She deduces that she’s had her fun getting you all worked up. Now it’s time to stop fooling around and enjoy you as thoroughly as she can. She lifts you by your ass and presses your back against the tiled wall. Her crimson-layered lips latch onto your neck, leaving a trail of fiery butterflies in their wake.
You’re already panting and burning up beneath your clothes, so you sink your nails in the fabric of her dress and nuzzle your face in her hair, messing up her regal hairstyle.
“Signora… please…” you whimper.
With a flick of her fingers, her bra falls loose and her breasts spill free. You don’t need to be told twice. You lean down to latch onto one of her tits, swirling your tongue around her nipples and your hand works on the other. Signora throws her head back with a moan.
She detaches her lips with a pop! before lifting her head to meet your hazy eyes. She runs her tongue over her glistening lips as her hand works to pull down her dress by the straps.
“I know, dearest, I know. But you must do your part first.”
“That’s it, dear… keep going. Only good girls get rewarded.”
[ ARLECCHINO ] - 75%
Arlecchino is firmly dominant and it’s non-negotiable. Take it or leave it.
She likes the view from above, her thrust game is godly and she can undo you like nobody else can.
Of course, she has her moments of domestic tenderness, but they’re few and far between. Sex is serious business to her, and she will treat it as such.
Arlecchino just got back from what you can only assume to be a particularly irritating meeting amongst the Harbingers. She’s impatiently shedding her clothes and huffing under her breath. Meanwhile, you’re lying on the bed, flat on your stomach as per her commands.
You’re on the verge of drifting off when suddenly, a familiar clawed hand finds your hips. Shivers erupt along the delicate curve of your spine as you glance over your shoulder, but a hand quickly pushes your face against the mattress once more.
“I said stay still”, she growls under her breath. The unmistakable flushed head of her dick probes at your hole. Not even five minutes in and she’s already rock hard. Archons know how agitating that meeting must have been.
It’s not long before your nails are uselessly clawing at the bedsheets, tears streaming down your cheeks and pitiful whimpers escaping your rosy lips as Arlecchino thrusts in and out of you with animalistic hunger. She rams against your G-spot repeatedly, lifting your ass to get a better angle and bury herself to the hilt. Her blackened hands grip your hips so tightly you can already feel the bruises forming.
And whenever she softens up in the slightest, she leans down to whisper gentle praises, even as she’s panting and grunting.
“You’re doing so well, little flame. Such - ngh! - such a good girl for me…”
At this point, you don’t know what gets you more wet; her sharp commands or her rare praises? You can’t decide.
The first round is always the most heated one as Arlecchino pumps out her built-up frustration in you. After that, she tends to be a lot more merciful. Though she won’t pass up the opportunity to get more sounds out of you.
Her clawed fingers tangle in your hair, lifting your head from the bed. She presents you with her index and middle finger. Her intentions are clear, even without her saying a word.
“Suck,” she commands anyway.
And with that, you close your plush lips around her fingers, running your tongue over and around them. She rewards you by speeding up ever so slightly, hips rolling against your ass.
“Good girl,” she purrs again. You can almost cum from the sound of that alone.
When all is said and done, she will extend an arm, inviting you to curl by her side like a cat. She combs her fingers through the sweaty locks of your hair as you trace abstract patterns on her abdomen. If she detects the slightest hint of doubt or insecurity in your expression, she leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead and murmur sweet nothings to you.
“Perish your troubling throughts, my dear. You did just fine.”
[ CRUCABENA ] - 100%
Crucabena takes her role as Mother seriously. And you’re not spared from the shadow of her authority either.
Whenever she tells you that she wants to play in a sultry tone of voice, it’s a coin toss as to whether she’ll edge you until you’re sobbing or make you cum over and over again until you pass out.
One thing’s for sure; she’s the one holding the reins in this relationship.
Right now, you’re bowing before her, naked and on all fours. Only a designer leather collar decorates your neck, double-functioning as a leash that leads back to Crucabena’s gloved fist.
With a sharp flick of her wrist, she beckons you forward. Trembling, you try to keep your knees from giving out, but it’s hard when you’re dripping from your puffy folds. Crucabena notices this and clicks her tongue.
“My, you’re quite frail today. I thought I trained you better than that, Y/N.”
She never uses petnames. Not unless she’s trying to coax you into doing something fishy for her. But now, she’s not playing around in the slightest.
She lifts her leg gently, stretching it below you until finally, the pointed toe of her leather boot nestles against your flushed clit. A desperate gasp escapes your chapped lips, dry with anticipation and need.
“Crucabena- ah!”
A gloved hand spanks your bare ass harshly, leaving a stinging mark in its wake. You whimper pathetically.
“Wrong name, pet.” She hisses.
You suck in a shaky breath and get your act together. “Mother… please.”
She hums sweetly, pleased that you know your place. “That’s better. Now, please what?”
You curled your hands in fists against the floor and humbly raised your head, teary eyes meeting with her foxy emerald eyes.
“Please, let me ride you.”
Crucabena twirled the leash around her fist thoughtfully before eventually conceding. “Very well. Give me a show. And when I say stop, you stop.”
Eagerly nodding, you finally enjoy a shred of relief. After what felt like centuries of being denied your release, you descend upon Crucabena’s firm boot, squeezing her leg between your thighs as you start grinding against it.
She watches with cruel amusement as you pant and whimper, leaving glistening fluids all over the expensive leather. Your pace is sloppy and desperate as you chase some kind of remedy for all the torment she has put you through.
And just as you’re about to cum, she quickly retracts her leg.
“Mother!” You cry out, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks.
She can’t help but giggle. Your heartbroken expression combined with the sight of your weakened body does something to her. It’s like a drug she can’t get enough of. Teasing you will never get boring for her.
“Oh, hush. Your pace was brutish, so I had to put a stop to it.”
She reached down to cup your salty cheek in her hand, brushing a tear away with her thumb. You whimpered like a wounded animal. She clicked her tongue again.
“Your pathetic expression will get you nowhere. So, let’s take this from the top.”
She is a very special Harbinger. Pose her a question, and the answer you receive will be entirely unpredictable, if she sees fit to give a proper answer at all. Regardless, any answer you do receive is sure to be an interesting one. ⋆˚꩜｡
