kana-de - Tumblr blog

kana-de · 8 days

Text

let me see - arlecchino x fem!reader (3.8k)

you work as a tutor at the house of the hearth; but the father of the children you teach seems to haunt your thoughts.

cw: not sfw, fem reader. employer-employed dynamics, reader calls arlecchino 'sir', chubby reader, reader is inexperienced. arlecchino calls reader 'good girl' and 'darling'. guided masturbation.

You see your employer only rarely, but that does not mean that you do not think about her often.

It’s in the way that the children - your students, the ones you have been engaged to teach basic arithmetic and reading and as much history as you can squeeze in - speak of their ‘Father’. The look of wonder and devotion and just a touch of intimidation that comes over them, even as they chatter to you about the next time she is coming home and what they plan to do to welcome her. It’s in your salaries; perfectly paid, on time, with extra money left in an envelope and a note in beautiful, sharp handwriting mentioning your students by name and how well they’re progressing.

And, of course, it is in the times you see her - for you do not think anybody could see Arlecchino and not think about her regularly for the rest of their life.

She makes you nervous. There is something about her commanding presence; her lovely marble face, the strangely striking appearance of her eyes, the self-assured way that she stands. You think her beautiful, of course - but you have always had trouble around beautiful people, and so you find yourself stumbling over your words, your cheeks burning hot, coming far too close to making a fool out of yourself whilst she keeps a small, polite smile on her face as she watches you falter.

You worry, sometimes, she knows that you find her at once intimidating and irresistible - that something about the way you hold yourself will give away that you have wondered what her nails would feel like, digging into the soft skin of your throat as she tipped your chin upwards - or that you have wondered what it would feel like to have her corner you like a trapped rabbit and have her way with you--

But they are just daydreams. The truth is that you are as green as they come; you had gone to Sumeru’s Akademiya, a child who could not stop devouring books, who was obsessed with learning - and you had returned back to your native Fontaine to teach, and had no time in between that to pursue romantic relationships. The sum total of your romantic experience is a hurried kiss with another student, another beautiful older woman, who had pulled back and laughed at you, touching your cheek gently.

“Aren’t you adorable?” She’d asked you, in a low, sleepy voice with her eyes half-lidded. “Maybe a bit too adorable for just right now. Come find me again if you’re ever in Mondstadt.”

So . . . your fantasies about Arlecchino are just that. Simple fantasies. You have other things to attend to, after all! You care about the children whose education has been entrusted to you - even those who have now grown too old to need your guidance, who you watch flower and blossom and strike out from the House of the Hearth. Even if they stray beyond the nation you live in, though . . . they always seem to come back, to pay their respects to Father.

But it doesn’t stop the fact that sometimes she looks at you, when your paths crossed, with her head tilted just slightly to one side, and you feel like she knows exactly what you’re thinking. She always makes you feel strangely exposed; you keep up with fashion, because you enjoy it, but something about the fripperies of your gowns and skirts and blouses and the ribbons and the carefully chosen accessories in front of Arlecchino make you feel as though she is stripping you down in her mind, so perfectly poised and tailored. So you drop books in front of her. Your sentences get tangled together. You go hot all over and look at the floor--

But still she employs you, and still you hurry home at night and try to ignore the pounding in your chest and the way your breath goes short at the sight of her. Your paths cross only occasionally, you tell yourself. Next time you will be prepared.

But you are not prepared, the day that Arlecchino meets you in the hallway (your arms full of books and the work of the children that you intend to look over that night), running late with your hair ribbons askew and your dress crooked and she looks at you and says, in a voice that brokers no argument;

“Won’t you stay a little longer and have afternoon tea with me?”

“Do I make you nervous?” The red crosses in her eyes bore into you as she pours you a steaming cup of tea into a delicate teacup. You sit primly, your hands folded in your lap, your feet together, feeling entirely too exposed alone in this room with her. “You shake like a leaf whenever I speak to you.”

You wet your lips awkwardly, your throat dry, as you reach out for the teacup. You notice your hands are shaking and try to stop them, but she leans forward herself and places one of her hands over yours, steadying you. You stare up at her, eyes wide, whilst she looks down at you with something calculating and predatory in her gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice very soft. You can feel your cheeks going hot against your will, and you wonder what you must look like to her - because you feel like a rabbit who is about to be pounced on by a wolf. Arlecchino slowly and purposely guides your hand back down, to put the teacup back on the saucer, and you begin to get the strangest impression that her invitation for ‘afternoon tea’ was actually an invitation for something entirely different. Her hand comes back up, and one of your idle questions is given an answer as you feel her sharp nails dig into the soft skin under your chin, tipping it up as she leans in closer. Close enough that she could kiss you, if she wanted - close enough you can smell the scent of Rainbow Roses and smoke that lingers on her clothes.

“Oh,” says Arlecchino, and she smiles at you and something about the smile makes you go hot and cold all over all at once. “Don’t be. It’s terribly cute.”

You don’t know how you end up sprawled out over her lap, your thighs hooked over the arms of her chair, as she takes control of you - but before you know it, that is the position you have found yourself in. Her hands roam slowly all over you, savouring the feel of your skin - soft and warm, generously curved - beneath her long, elegant fingers.

“These ribbons drove me to distraction today,” she murmurs against your ear, as you melt helplessly against her and she tugs at a brightly coloured red ribbon that trims your blouse. “I kept thinking about tying it around your pretty wrists instead.”

“M-Miss Arlecchino--”

She clicks her tongue at you in admonishment, running her thumb over the seam of your lips.

“Call me ‘Sir’, darling.” You practically fall over yourself to rectify your mistake, your tongue messy and heavy in your mouth, and you win a little chuckle from the woman who has you at her mercy. “You’re just so eager to please, aren’t you? What a good, obedient little thing.”

“Please--” You whisper breathlessly, as she tugs at the ribbon completely and the throat of your blouse falls open. Her nails scratch a slow line over your neck, almost like a threat, and you shiver again helplessly under the touch.

“Please what?” She murmurs against the shell of your ear. “You know, I did employ you as a tutor . . . for an academic, you’re rather inarticulate.” One button of your blouse, torturously slowly. The next, and she smiles against your bare skin to see the way your chest is rabbiting. “One would think you’d never been touched like this before.”

She knows.

There’s an edge to the way she says that, a note that’s teasing and suggestive, and it tears from your throat a little whimper of embarrassment that, in turn, makes her let out a sigh of satisfaction.

“My, my,” Arlecchino says to you - two more buttons, and your blouse is barely fastened. You’re inordinately glad you wore pretty underwear today, though you suppose it must look rather fussy to Arlecchino. “Have you not, sweetheart?”

“Sir,” you whine out, feeling tears spring to your eyes at the humiliation of the whole thing. Despite the humiliation, though, heat spirals out from between your thighs - your matching fancy underwear, you know, is soaked through. “Please-- it’s embarrassing--”

The final button, and Arlecchino’s fingers are running over bare skin now. The pudge of your stomach, the curve of your chest through the ruched cups of your brassiere.

“Say it,” she says to you, her voice sharp in the command. She circles a finger over your nipple through the lace and chiffon and you squirm in her lap at the sensation of the bud puckering and hardening. “If you want me to touch you, you understand, you have to at least have the confidence to tell me the truth. Or I’ll just send you home without your blouse and with your poor little aching cunt untouched, hmm?”

“Sir--!”

She grabs your cheeks between thumb and forefinger, squeezing the roundness of them roughly. The Father of the House of the Hearth, after all, is not one to be intimidated by whining or begging. She has plenty of experience dealing with brats. Her fingers still as she waits for you to do as she asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut and hiccup out a sob of longing.

“I--I’ve never . . . had anyone else touch me . . . l-like this--”

She lets out a pleased purr in the back of her throat.

“There,” she soothes. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Good girl.” She drops a kiss on the side of your forehead like a reward, her hands sliding over your body to find the catch of your brassiere. There’s a brief tussle of movement as she ensures you are shed of both your blouse and your underwear, and then you’re once more on her lap, your entire top half bared, only your skirts and stockings and underwear still on. “And if I’m honest . . .” She moves back to your ear, pressing a kiss on your jawline beneath the earlobe. “I rather like getting my claws in someone before they can learn any bad habits. I, too, am an excellent teacher.”

She takes a firm hold of you, pulling you even closer to her so that her hands can each take a palmful of your breasts. You feel exposed before her; the rolls of your stomach, the way that your chest sags into her grip, but Arlecchino does not seem to care about these things - instead she just sighs like you’re a fine wine she’s sampling, palming and squeezing the heavy weight of them.

“You’re such a pretty thing beneath the flounces,” she says to you, plucking idly at your nipples between thumb and forefinger - the movement sends hot lightning flashes of pleasure right down to the space between your legs. “If I were in charge, I think I’d leave you naked in my bed. Much more practical like that, don’t you agree?”

“I--”

“What about kisses?” She asks you, not letting you say anything. Your head is spinning pleasantly, and you cannot say that you are annoyed she’s stopping you from making a fool of yourself. “Are you as unversed in those, too?”

“I--I’ve kissed . . . someone--”

“Just one?” She laughs, a not unkind noise. “Oh, just the one kiss, I see. Poor thing, your cheeks are like Pyro slimes. Come here. Let me show you how to kiss someone properly, hmm?”

Arlecchino pulls you into a kiss that is so unlike the one you once had that to call them both by the same name seems a great disservice. There is no other way to describe it; she claims you, her mouth like a conquering king, your own the battlefield. Her teeth tug at your lower lip and you are helpless to do anything but open your mouth, let her tongue sweep over yours. She tastes like fire and tea, some of the little cakes she had offered to you - and you whine helplessly, clutching at her slacks because there’s nothing else you can reach in the position she has you in.

She lets go of your face with a satisfied sigh, and your head lolls back against her shoulder as she delicately wipes a smudge of her lipstick from the corner of your mouth.

“Let’s get this off you,” she says, tugging at the frills of your skirt. “Let me see you, darling.”

You’re only too eager to assist, embarrassed but needy, wanting but nervous. The fastenings at your waistband are unhooked, and then she is carelessly sliding it off of you until you are back before her in nothing but your underwear and your stockings, digging into the fullness of your thighs. For a moment, you are embarrassed again of your softness - but Arlecchino grabs your hips, pulling you back bodily onto her, and you realise from the possessiveness of her movements that she does not see it for a moment as something to be ashamed of.

Arlecchino’s hands are hungry as she squeezes at the softness of your thighs, as her palms sear hot across your stomach, as her fingers drift towards the gusset of your underwear. Her touch is feather-light, there, but you keen even so - terribly aware of every movement, even the smallest brush of her fingers. Arlecchino clicks her tongue against your ear again.

“So sensitive,” she whispers. “I’m afraid I might hurt you, and I’m afraid I’d very much like it. Why don’t you show me how you touch yourself?”

Your breath gets caught in your chest. Her suggestions so far have been, perhaps, embarrassing - have put you at a disadvantage due to your lack of experience. But nothing so far has been quite so brazen. You burn with the unease of it, but Arlecchino is already grabbing your hand, placing it over your soaked underwear.

“Don’t worry about making a mess,” she murmurs into your ear. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that. My pants are soaking.”

She seems to enjoy watching you squirm as you whimper again, face hot. But her hand does not move, keeping your own anchored against your underwear until you do as she asks and shyly, nervously, rub at yourself through the sodden fabric just a little.

“Oh, darling,” she breathes, condescension dripping off every syllable. “You’ll never get anywhere like that.” You are inarticulate with your touches, still trembling and shaking at the strangeness of all of this - and you have done this, of course, but never with an audience! Never spread out over someone’s lap as they critique your technique!

“Sir, please--”

“You’re supposed to be a teacher,” she admonishes you. “You’re supposed to know everything, are you not? Have I really got to help you with something so simple as touching yourself?” She’s enjoying it; the sight of you, normally so prim and shy, utterly undone by her every word and action. Her hand moves over yours, holding it, guiding you to press two of your fingers together and circle over your swollen clit through the underwear.

It’s different, with her guiding you. You turn your head to try and bury it against her collar as she continues to mercilessly guide you into circles, sniffling pathetically - but she just coos, just nudges you back so you watch the visual of her hand over yours between your thighs.

“Shall we get your underwear off too?” She phrases it as a question, but it’s not one - she is already peeling off the frilly cotton, inching it down your generous thighs. She laughs a little meanly when she sees just how large the damp, darker patch is, and you think you will cry. Every feeling you have ever had is magnified a thousand fold here, in this incredibly vulnerable position spread over the lap of your employer.

(There are whispers that Arlecchino is even more than that; that there is a secret purpose behind the orphanage you have been employed by. But you do not put much stock in rumours, even when the children look at each other strangely and whisper when they think you cannot hear them. The thought of who you might really be letting touch you . . . You wish it did not stoke a fire in you even hotter and brighter than before).

“There we are,” she murmurs. “Good girl. Look at you. Look how pretty you are.” She deals your sex a short, soft slap - her palm comes away sticky, the noise indecent in the little room she had brought you to for afternoon tea. “I wonder how much prettier you’ll look with three of your fingers stuffed inside of you?”

Another strangled noise from your throat at the easy way she says the filthy things, and Arlecchino merely makes a soft huff of laughter.

“Carry on touching yourself for me,” she says to you. “Let me see.”

It’s an order, and you know that orders from Arlecchino are to be obeyed. Shyly and hesitantly again, you bring your fingers back to your sex. She rests her head against your shoulder, and moves her own hand; uses two of her fingers to make a ‘v’ shape and places them on your sex, using them to spread the plump outer lips aside so that you have better access to your clit and your entrance, still soaking and leaking slick out onto Arlecchino’s lap.

You’re hot and awkward as you touch your clit; as you try and mimic the circles that she had drawn on you earlier - but you are not brave enough to keep at it, and before long you have returned to your own faithful back-and-forth motion on your clit, your hips moving in little thrusts to try and prolong the sensation. You can hear yourself in the charged air; the hot little pants, the whimpers of frustration that none of it feels as good as it did when she was in charge. Arlecchino, though, merely watches you struggle.

You cannot see her face, but you can imagine the look upon it; the barest quirk of the lip, the single raised eyebrow. You carry on as best you can, trying to think of all the things you would usually think of - but it all spirals back to where you are, what is happening, and the fact no fantasy can truly compare.

Her voice is a little thick when she speaks next, and you realise with a strange jolt of pleasure that your inarticulate touching is still having an effect on her. It’s almost unnoticeable - but Arlecchino’s normal tone is so very poised, even the smallest change feels like a blaring siren to you.

“Put two of your fingers inside of you,” she says. And then, as you inexpertly slide two of your fingers inside your channel, she lets out a shuddering breath. You’re wet and tight around yourself, aware that you must look a mess - but Arlecchino’s fingers are sliding between your sex, moving to touch the space on your clit you just vacated, and your entire mind goes blank. “Don’t stop. Let me see you move them.”

You do your best, but Arlecchino’s own movements are just too much. The sensation of her dragging the pads of her fingers over your swollen clit; the way she circles and flourishes and swirls . . . you try, desperately, to keep your fingers in some kind of rhythm as they slide in and out of you, but before you know it you’re using your other hand to clutch at her arm and whimpering as you hump upwards into her touch.

“I ought to stop you,” she tells you, but she doesn’t for a moment stop her ceaseless assault on your clit; the wet, sticky clicking noise of your slick between her fingers. “You’re being a brat.”

“Please, Sir,” you whisper, babbling, “I’m . . . it feels so good--”

“Flatterer,” she murmurs, in that low, hungry voice. “You’re lucky that you look so very pretty like this, and that I am perhaps more soft-hearted than I appear . . .” Tears are running down your cheeks, sniffling, whimpering, helplessly moving your hips in time with her touches. Nothing seems to exist but the feel of Arlecchino’s fingers on your clit and the firm, certain way she touches you. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

The order tips you over the edge. The knot of heat in your belly comes undone and you whine helplessly as you buck into her touch, and you feel a gush of your own slick wet the fingers that are still stuffed inside of you. Your thighs try to clamp shut around the sensation, but the position that Arlecchino has you in with your thighs over the arms of her chair stop you from doing it - and so does she, still working her fingers over your clit through every trembling moment of your orgasm.

You come back down, panting, aware of the wetness between your legs and your nakedness, the stiff points of your nipples and Arlecchino’s fingers on you and the fact that Arlecchino is still dressed exactly as she was when she caught you in the hallway.

She moves her hand, and to your surprise she presses her fingers against your lips, forcing your mouth open.

“Taste yourself,” she tells you, and you are still so in awe of her that you can do nothing but obey - the slightly tangy taste of you lingering on your lips. You’re even more surprised when she uses her other hand to pluck your hand from between your thighs and guides the two fingers that had been inside of you to her own mouth, her tongue hungrily drinking in the wet webs of your slick. “Well. Aren’t you sweet?”

The unprofessionalism of what you’ve just done begins to creep up on you, shame drenching your back. All of those talks about ethics that you’d had at the Akademiya - but Arlecchino takes your head and turns it and gives you another firm kiss, another bite to your lower lip, another conquering that makes you feel weak at the knees. Your own taste lingers in your mouth, but, too, it lingers on her lips, and she seems supremely satisfied as she pulls back.

“I’ll be away on business for the next week,” she tells you. “In Snezhnaya. I’ll bring you something back.”

“Sir--”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she continues. “That little apartment you live in - well, it seems a shame, when we have so many empty rooms, and a live-in tutor would be far more beneficial - don’t you think? The children do adore you, and it seems so very practical.”

It’s a bizarre time to be having a business meeting, with your slick staining her clothes, with your own clothes a crumpled pile, with your position so terribly open and exposed - but all you can do is blink at her, and she smiles at you like a cat who has gotten the cream. She pats your cheek.

“Besides,” she says. “It will give us far more time together. And I do have so much more I’d like to teach you.”

#kana reblogs #HELLLLOOOOOOOOOOOO ?????

739 notes · View notes

kana-de · 13 days

Text

hollow.

⭒ summary: arlecchino comes to your lands in hope of getting your gnosis non-violently. having hidden feelings for the harbinger, you offer a bargain, which she ends up accepting. it hurts both of you in the end.

⭑ cw: suggestive (no nsfw). angst. a lot of angst. angst no comfort (i warned you). hidden feelings. archon!reader. reader and arle both feel, and i mean feel.

⭒ wc: 3.4k.

⭑ a/n: oh wow. hi. this is like, the first fic i've written that was so long. ended up beta reading it with grammarly for two straight days. also tried improving my writing style, hope it looks like it lol. please like and reblog !!

"so, lady arlecchino," you started. your gaze remained cold but calm despite the inner hesitation you were feeling while facing the harbinger. "what business do you have in my lands?"

an unexpexted visit of the fatui delegation along with the fourth harbinger visiting her homeland was quite the news to you this morning. having no other choice than to face them, and you knew precisely why she would visit, hearing the news from the archons of other regions from last months.

it scared you, in some way. but you were expecting they would eventually reach you.

arlecchino slowly lowered herself into her own comfortable chair opposite of you before looking at you again. her face became expressionless again.

"It's a pleasure to see you too, miss [name]," she retorted in the same calm manner, despite her words clearly having a mocking undertone somewhere deep down. her eyes studied you as she continued, hearing you not reacting to her words.

you didn't change much from the last time she saw you. she didn't want you to, anyway. the same eyes, hair, accessories, manners... so on. she remembered every little detail.

"miss [name], do you really think you can rule this region on your own for the rest of eternity?" arlecchino suddenly asked, crossing her legs and arms simultaneously as she leaned back in her seat, seemingly making herself very much comfortable.

you blinked in confusion, head tilting the slightest bit. the woman had the dignity to let a corner of her lips raise upward at your reaction. she knew this "start" of the conversation wasn't what you expected.

"...i'm sorry?" you asked, not quite getting the meaning of the question.

"i'm sure you've already guessed what i'm here for. what i'm getting at is..."

arlecchino leaned forward in her chair, her eyes studying you. her face became expressionless once again, but a dark half-smile was painted on it. her voice became slightly threatening, nearly causing goosebumps to run across your skin. she knew your exterior wouldn't be cracked so easily - you're tough; much tougher than many people she's met in her life. but this was a start.

"...what do you want in exchange for your gnosis?" the question was almost a demand. she simply voiced her intentions - get your gnosis, and it wasn't an invitation of any sort.

your eyes narrowed, eyeing arlecchino. what is this? a negotiation? it does sound like one. but is that really it?

"and when did i mention something about giving up my gnosis, lady arlecchino?" you asked calmly.

"don't pretend you don't understand."

arlecchino's voice now held the slightest hint of threat to it, but her face became a little kinder and she continued in a more calm and friendly tone. or she only intended for it to sound friendly. uh, these diplomat things.

"i think we both know perfectly well what I want to hear from you; a clear answer. why don't we come to an agreeable conclusion and you'll give up your gnosis to me? certainly with no harm, you have my promise," she said, her voice getting a more expectant undertone as she spoke the last words, then looked at you in anticipation of the answer.

you leaned back in your seat, unsure of what to make of this whole 'visit'. it was suspicious, you couldn't deny it, but the pull towards the forbidden was finally getting to you, and your bottled-up for centuries-on-end feeling might be getting outside right at this moment.

this is an opportunity you have once in a life, your heart screamed at you. use it.

despite floating somewhere deep in your thoughts, you could easily feel as if arlecchino kept trying to burn a hole in you. and her eyes - especially the shape and color of her pupils - weren't helping either. she did look intimidating like this, but nonetheless, she was willing to wait. at least for now.

you weren't the type to risk, but...

so, an opportunity.

"now, what was that you said about getting something in exchange?" you inquired, exhaling a soft, quiet breath as you got out of your mind. shouldn't have entered it in the first place, you thought. too much of everything.

arlecchino smiled and her eyes gleamed a strange glint you couldn't quite decipher what meant.

"oh, it's good that you're interested," her voice became inviting again, almost soothing, but behind the façade was clearly a not-so-hidden intention. "i wouldn't want to use force against you if this escalated any more."

"of course i wouldn't just take your gnosis from you. i am a woman of honor and deal, miss [name]. if you'll give your gnosis to me i will, of course, give you something in return," she leaned back in her chair and stared straight into your eyes.

"would you like to hear what i would offer you?"

"no," you instantly replied, dismissing the woman. "i already have something i want to ask of you. but first..." you looked around the room, noticing a few fatui soldiers standing here and there. you didn't need extra ears from here anymore. "i need them to leave us alone."

arlecchino's lips curled slightly upward, resembling a smile.

"i see no problem in that. if you're planning on saying something personal, they don't need to witness this conversation."

she glanced at her soldiers and then turned her gaze back to you. the fatui left the room instantly, with no further words said.

"and now to the important part: what can i offer you in exchange for the gnosis, miss [name]?"

you kept silent for at least a minute. you licked your lips, then let your teeth bite down into her lower lip as you thought. arlecchino already seemed to notice one thing that stood out the most - you hesitated.

a deep inhale and the same deep exhale.

"my offer is..." you started slowly, eyes drawn to the table. you simply just couldn't bring yourself to look the woman in the eyes when saying what you were going to say. "we spend the night. together," you said, knowing that she clearly understands what you're talking about.

"and in the morning, i will grant you my gnosis, and we won't have any more business together after that."

silence.

this was precisely what arlecchino was hoping to hear from you.

she raised an eyebrow after a few moments of processing your words, expecting something like this, but still surprised by such a straightforward proposition. however, she quickly regained her composure, leaning back in her seat.

she knew where you were getting with this. she knew you craved this since you both ever saw each other. this was seemingly what you and her needed, but it was so much more complicated than just that.

she also knew that you would hurt so much the next morning, after giving up that gnosis, if she accepted this deal.

for the first time in a while, arlecchino felt torn by the thought of someone being hurt. surprisingly, it's you she was thinking about at that moment.

"my, my... i must admit such a proposal from you is a shock to me. so bold of you to assume that i would accept your deal so easily," she gave you a look, which held the tiniest bit of sympathy and compassion. she had mixed feelings about this.

"however, i'm indeed sure that you mean no harm, especially to me. so, i'll accept your offer on one condition."

she accepted it, immediately flashed in your mind. she accepted it almost instantly. your heart seemed to take a leap, no, a thousand of those as your eyes widened at the realization.

what was going on between the two of you?

you finally found the courage to look up at the woman. hearing no further elaboration, but wanting to hear it right now, you pried further, "that condition being..?"

arlecchino's eyes found yours, as if trying to read you from the outside, and she leaned in closer to the table separating the two of you.

"we keep this a secret," she said, eyes narrowing slightly and voice becoming nearly a whisper. "from the fatui and from everyone else."

"do we have a deal?"

you nodded. "i thought it's only logical that we keep it a secret. so, of course," you continued, eyes focusing on the woman. you didn't want to look away from her for a second, afraid she might disappear. "we have a deal."

a small smile played on arlecchino's lips as she gave a slight nod of satisfaction in response to the fact that you agreed so eagerly. her voice became slightly louder now, as if to not cause any suspicion if someone were to listen from the outside.

"very well. i accept your terms. and i give you my word to keep this... arrangement, a secret from everyone else," she said. her piercing gaze met yours, but the smile on her lips did not disappear.

"where would you like to meet, miss [name]?"

—

you didn't know how you both made it to your room, but the second the front door was closed and secured with a 'click' of the lock, arlecchino's lips crashed onto yours, as well as you found your back to quickly meet the wall.

there were lips biting one another, hands everywhere, tongues intertwining, your own heartbeat loud in your ears as you kissed, your hand shooting up to grab the back of arlecchino's neck... and you were hoping to forget about the gnosis just for this night. just for the duration of these hours.

just for one night. and then it'll all be over in her morning.

arlecchino's lips felt soft and warm as they pressed against your own. her tongue gently licked your lower lip, teeth tugging at it slightly as her hands roamed all over you. she didn't seem to want to pressure you into something, but she wanted to show you how much she wanted this, too. she then broke the kiss to catch her breath, eyes gleaming with hunger for more, despite the softness in them.

her fingers tangled in your hair as she looked deep into your eyes, "you're even more beautiful than i imagined."

with those words arlecchino pulled you closer, pressing herself against you, as her lips found their way to your neck, kissing her way down to your cleavage, before finding her way back onto your lips.

you felt like you were suffocating; suffocating in arlecchino. in her touch, lips, breath, and in your own sensations of all of the above.

"not here," you managed to whisper out breathily, already panting. you were sure your lips were already red and swollen from all of this. "left door."

arlecchino's lips came back to trailing kisses down your neck, biting softly in some places, but she seemed to obey you. her hands seemed to settle on your waist as she led you to the said left door.

"are you sure?" she whispered in your ear, her lips brushing against the skin there, and you immediately felt shivers crawling down your spine.

"are you sure you want this?"

"are you?" you asked in return, words barely a whisper, brows furrowed a small bit as if you yourself contemplated your choice.

you didn't. not for a single second.

"i am."

with that, arlecchino pulled you closer to herself again and claimed your lips once again. it was a hungry kiss, filled with passion and desire and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of longing.

"i want you," she whispered against your lips before kissing them again. the sound of your heartbeat was so loud that you were sure the woman could almost hear it in her own ears. her hands wandered over to your shoulders, pushing you through the door and into your bedroom, and she pushed the door with her leg to close it.

"all of you... i want all of you," arlecchino murmured, letting her lips detach from yours for a split second, eyes finally meeting yours, seeing all the need and yearning in yours.

she craved this a lot, but she knew you craved it more.

"then have all of me," you whispered in reply, ignoring the fact that the loud pounding of your heart in your ribcage seemed to reach the limit of its loudness, almost drowning out all other sounds. you pulled her along with you, your back falling onto the bed with a soft thud, leaving the woman to settle on your hips and watch you from above.

if arlecchino was sure, then you were also sure. you knew it wasn't how that worked, but you could let yourself forget that just for tonight.

arlecchino seemed like she was about to pounce on you, the hunger and lust in her eyes increasing rapidly as she watched the rise and fall of your chest; the way your breath would increase as she looked in your direction. her eyes wandered over your body, taking in every curve, every muscle, and every movement you made. her own breathing became slightly more ragged and she licked her lips.

"you're so beautiful," came out as a soft whisper, arlecchino's eyes now resembling a newfound tenderness that wasn't there before.

she leaned in closer, warm breath caressing your neck, her scent filling the air around you as her palms settled on your cheeks and jaw, thumbs caressing the skin mindlessly.

"may i?"

gods, she still asked for consent.

you exhaled shakily while realizing that; that she didn't want it to be just a decision in the heat of the moment. it warmed your heart, even if a little bit.

"anything."

arlecchino suddenly felt loved and wanted, and it was almost the same feeling that she always wanted to feel from no one but you.

you were giving herself up to her for one night, and she was going to make it count.

she kissed you like it was the last kiss of her life. she kissed you deeply, heartfeltly, lovingly, and with such intensity that it was like you two were the only people in the world, and both your and her touch screamed please, don't let me go.

—

you awoke just as the sun had begun to rise, the light from it shining through the curtains and onto the bed. the woman beside you shifted, too, seemingly being already awake for a little while.

arlecchino had watched you for a little bit while you slept. it was a sight she couldn't tear her eyes from away even if she wanted to. duties and titles long forgotten, this was what she wanted to see every day.

you blinked as the light found your eyes, rubbing them for a few seconds before focusing your gaze on the woman on the other side of the bed. neither of you spoke, for now.

you sat up on the bed, having the blanket cover up your naked, marked, loved body. arlecchino followed your every move, eyes only once wandering down to your back and back up to your face.

your heart hurt at the realization that it was already morning.

the night had ended.

you didn't want it to be over so fast.

looking down at the woman, you averted your eyes, feeling the need to blink away the sting of tears threatening to find their way out. one of your hands moved up, palm facing upwards. your fingers trembled as you exhaled shakily.

you got lost in your thoughts for a few moments. what if arlecchino won't take the gnosis? was that even possible in a situation like this?

certainly not, you must be daydreaming of some kind of hope.

glowing a soft light, floating up and down over your hand was your gnosis.

you stared at it, not blinking, then stared a little more, and then your hand shifted and offered the gnosis to arlecchino.

it was over. as simple as that.

arlecchino's breath hitched as she sat up to have a look at the small, glimmering chess piece. her hand slowly reached out and she took the gnosis from your hand, her fingers closing around it. she examined it closely, as if making sure it was real. to you, she looked satisfied with your deal.

"thank you very much, miss [name]."

you immediately noticed the change in tone. it became professional in just a few moments, leaving you confused.

she then stood up from the bed and started to put on her clothes. it was the sign that the deal was over and that her mission was complete. she didn't even look back at you, you thought. oh.

"well then... i guess my work here is done."

"...i guess it is," you could only reply quietly, eyes rooted to the woman's back as she got dressed.

you noticed the change in the woman's attitude, in her voice, and your heart basically shattered. it was like there were no kisses shared between you two just hours before, no compliments whispered, no intimate connections made. like the night before never existed.

you were just another mission.

of course it would be like this, you thought. you were the first to suggest that you both will never see each other again after this, and you were the one to fall for all of this.

but it still stung.

"you never meant it," you whispered in the end, realizing those words spoken and whispered so intimately were, apparently, just in a haze of situation. how predictable. you fell for that yet again.

arlecchino paused for a moment before she picked up her remaining clothes and turned to face you. her gaze was cold and emotionless, but she hesitated, before her expression purposefully changed into a more serious expression.

she needed to make you feel like she didn't have any feelings for you. it would be better for both of you. no bonds. no strings attached. she never wanted you to pine for her, as she was certainly not the one you needed to have beside her.

an archon and a harbinger. comical.

"i was agitated," arlecchino replied, voice turning back to previous hardness and flatness, zipping up her pants.

she hated saying the next words.

"you were just a means to an end."

pause.

your chest hurt. your eyes stung.

you wished you'd never heard any of this. you weren't ready to hear any of this. but now, these words will surely be engraved into your memory.

you didn't reply, and thus, there was silence. a loud one at that.

arlecchino felt the said silence like no other. she knew she'd achieved what she wanted just by witnessing your reaction.

you didn't stop looking in the direction where the woman was getting ready. neither did you react, just blinking away the tears from her eyes, preventing them from appearing.

your chest suddenly felt hollow, and not because of the gnosis that was no longer there.

arlecchino finished getting dressed quickly, since the silence in the room was getting more and more uncomfortable. it was a sign of your defeat, and she hated the realization of that.

she wanted to say something. wanted to take it back. to hug you. to kiss you again. to make love to you again. she wanted to tell you that she had fallen in love with you and that she wished everything was different.

but she knew that she would only end up hurting you more if she did so.

"i will be taking my leave."

you bit your lip hard enough to draw blood just trying to hold back your tears. your emotions. you weren't allowed to feel, but you felt, and it was suffocating you, dragging you towards the bottom.

"good job," you could only mutter, voice barely a whisper, gaze shifting back to the blanket.

arlecchino felt so much guilt for the words she had said. she knew how much pain those words were causing you, but she couldn't take them back even if she wanted to. the hurt was necessary.

she wanted nothing more than to go over to you, pull you into her arms, comfort you, and whisper how much she loves and cares for you. she wanted to apologize to you; wanted to tell you how sorry she was for hurting you.

but she didn't. she couldn't, because no one could know about the true feelings she had for you.

not even you.

so she just got dressed in silence, the weight of your gnosis in her pocket feeling heavier with every moment that passed. it's not like she could do anything other than that.

you heard arlecchino's hand placing itself on the door handle, and the woman paused momentarily, eyed wandering over to your form on the bed, scenes of the previous night flashing in front of her eyes as she looked at you.

the door clicked open, and she took one step outside your room before speaking her last words to you.

"it was a pleasure doing business with you, miss [name]."

the door closed.

#srb #self rb #genshin impact #genshin x you #genshin x reader #arlecchino x fem reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino genshin impact #arlecchino genshin #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino #genshin wlw #genshin x female reader #genshin x y/n #genshin smut

329 notes · View notes