A Boon from the Tsaritsa

Arlecchino x Fem! Reader

A/N: Reader is a simp

She's beautiful from all angles. That's the only thought that's running through your mind as you kneel before her. Her haunting beauty is a sight to behold, her face like that of an angel. Or maybe, a demon, with the way she tempts you. Even the look of disinterest, of lack of care for you, sends a chill of adoration up your spine. All it took was one glance at her in passing and you were absolutely smitten.

“I was told you requested me personally?” She spoke, her voice echoing off the wall and sending a familiar tingle to your groin. Her words, spoken coldly like ice, made your heart beat even faster in your chest.

“Yes, Sir! I did,” you stuttered back enthusiastically. Her dark eyes were on you and you could feel them practically melting through your skin. And the feeling was euphoric. Her painful gaze was like heaven to you and you wished to bask in it, if only her impatience with you wasn't so palpable, “I did well on the previous mission, sir, as I'm sure you've heard. I'm actually the sole survivor of it. I was told by the Tsaritsa herself that I could have any gift I desire for my job well done.”

Arlecchino cocked an eyebrow, crossing one of her gorgeous legs over the other. The way her thighs squished against the heavy fabric of her pants had you nearly drooling, your eyes tracing up and down her long legs to where the heel of her shoe where she tapped her foot against the marble floor, “I'm assuming you have something you want from my orphanage then, seeing as you asked for me. I do not give my children up, if that's what you're asking for, so I suggest calling on someone else for your ‘reward,”

“I want nothing of the sort,”

“Is that so?” She hummed.

“What I want is something only you can give me,”

“And that is?”

Your eyes fell upon her lips. Plump and wet with gloss. The natural pink shade making them stand out against her pale skin. They were pressed together in a frown, but even that displeasing expression excited you, “I want a kiss. From you.”

She was dumbfounded for a moment, you could see the slightest change in her expression, then she went back to her neutral expression, trying to pretend that what you’d asked for wasn't phasing her. She waved her hands, shooing the other Fatui guards out of the room and they left with little sound, their feet sounding like little patters of rain against the floor.

“A boon from the Tsaritsa is not an easy thing to acquire. People typically ask for things like land or status,”

“I'm aware,”

“Yet, you're giving it all up for a peck on the lips?”

When she said it like that, you did feel a little stupid. But you were steadfast in your ways and insistent on what you wanted. Her lips plagued your dreams day and night. And passing her on your way to assignments made you mentally curse whatever fate kept her from being your superior. Although, you doubted you'd get any work done if you had the opportunity to ogle at her as much as you pleased.

“I do not feel as if I'm wasting my boon, I've wanted this for a very long time,” affirmation coated your words, showing that you meant every bit of them. 

Maybe she could feel that. Feel your honesty in the way you spoke. In the way you look up at her with admiration. Most would be upset that they were made to kneel, yet, you dropped to the floor before her without any hesitation the second the order left her mouth. 

You watched her feet as she stepped towards you, her heels clicking against the floor. She cupped your face, just beneath the chin. You'd never touched her before, how could you? But the feeling of her gloved hands against your skin, of her sharp nails practically testing your flesh, it was euphoric. 

Bending over at the waist, she pressed her lips against yours. You would've melted into a puddle right there, had it not been for her firm grip on your cheeks. She tasted sweeter than you expected, but her lips were as soft as you'd dreamt of. Her smell up close was intoxicating, and even though you would've been more than satisfied with just her lips, you felt her tongue forcing its way into your mouth.

The way she kissed was dominating. It was suffocating. It was heavenly. You let her do whatever she desired, practically sitting there like a ragdoll for her to toy with. You wanted to remember every bit of her taste, the feeling of her lips. Her touch. You savored it, whining in sorrow when she pulled away, her lips wet with your saliva.

“Do well again,” Arlecchino spoke in a hushed whisper right against the shell of your ear, “So you can get another.”

john b made sure to never get angry at you. but sometimes it was just unavoidable.

even you can admit that you’ve been a brat all day long. whining and moaning about every other inconvenience, slowing things down by purposefully getting them wrong, being snarky, and foremost, teasing the absolute hell out of your boyfriend.

so it was no surprise to you, that the moment you get home, you’re being folded over his lap and spanked hard enough to send you right into that little subspacey haze that you and John b both love so much.

but right now, John b isn’t being sweet, he’s being mean, because he’s mad. because you made him mad. you assume that the harsh slaps to your ass are the only punishment you’ll receive. so when he lifts you up you go to curl into his chest.

he tsks “not yet baby, gotta finish what you started.” you don’t quite understand what he means until he’s lowering you to your knees in front of him and undoing his pants to reveal his already hardened dick. “why don’t you take care of this, huh?” his voice reeks of casual annoyance and dominance. he leaves no room for argument.

so you get to work, at first just suckling and kissing at the tip and jerking the rest of him with your hands. and then beginning to take him further, at your own pace.

your boyfriend lets this happen for a couple of minutes, to build a false sense of security. but the moment he begins to get impatient, he pushes your head down so that your nose is buried in the small bush of dark curly hair that surrounds the bottom of his shaft. “yeah, just take it, good girl.” he chuckles nearly sadistically as you gag harshly around him.

he doesn’t let you go, not much at least, maybe once every minute or so to let you take a proper breath. it’s the fourth time that he’s pushing you down when it gets messy.

you can feel it coming before you’ve even taken all of him in, the bile that’s rising quickly up your throat. you frantically try to pull away, to avoid the pure humiliation that you know is about to come.

you whimper as he bucks his hips up, desperately trying to preserve your dignity. he’s clearly caught on. he leans down to speak to you, a smirk corrupting his usually sweet face, “s’okay sweetie, you can let it out. you know daddy won’t mind.”

that’s what pushes you over the edge, that’s what has you immediately choking up your lunch whilst still having him buried to the hilt in your throat.

tears stream down your face as you try to keep any more from coming up, but it’s far too late already, you’ve been set off, and all there is for you to do is finish.

you keep him in your mouth, at some point during the ordeal feeling the warm ropes of his cum slide down your throat.

John b pulls you off of him after that, lifting you onto your feet and standing himself. “had to make all this mess just to teach you a lesson, gonna have to think twice about bein’ such a little priss in the future aren’t ya?”

Missing your presence

Pairing/s: Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel x GN! Reader [Separated Established Relationship]

Warning/s: Angst / hurt / comfort

Summary: What would be their reaction when you left without a word… then came back again.

A/N: I stopped playing LnDs for a month and when I came back a few days ago, I received these messages from them and thought I should write something angst with a bit of comfort headcanon about it. The devs do be really know how to pull our heartstrings huh?

Masterlists | commission sheet + socials

—

Xavier

He missed you, like a lot.

Despite not getting responses from you, he continues to message you now and then. “Why are you so quiet?” “Did you go to the no-hunt zone alone again?” “Are you hiding from me or is something bothering you?”

Even when he sleeps, he sees you in his dreams, hoping someday you would come back again.

When there’s no Wanderer around, he goes to the places you and him enjoy each other's company.

Then you return – you saw him in the cafe that you and he visited often, he was sitting near the window and the drink that he ordered remained untouched then he saw you walking on where he sat.

He’s not dreaming, is he? He’s not dreaming. “So it’s not a dream? Can I pinch you, (Y/N)?” You gave him a small nod as you sit beside him and he did pinch you – not enough to hurt you of course but just to see if you are actually real, with him. Then without any word, he embraced you. “I missed you a lot when you were gone.”

Zayne

Busy as usual.

Though his co-workers noticed that he’s been checking his phone from time to time so often, “Respond when you have time.” “I saw a hunter wearing their uniform at the airport and… I thought it was you.” are some of the messages that he sent to you, waiting for you to reply, but nothing came. 

It’s a weird feeling from him honestly, he missed your presence, your messages – like any updates from you on what had happened on your day. He still hopes that you’re doing okay at least even if you missed your monthly check-ups from him.

He tries not to be angry at you, a bit disappointed but… maybe it’s a personal matter that’s why there’s no word when you left.

Then you return – It surely is a coincidence to see him on the restaurant that you and him had lunch together, you saw him making a snow replica of the cat that you’ve seen a lot here at the restaurant.

With the food that you ordered on hand, you walked over to where he sat. “Is this seat taken?” There was a minute of silence between you two, Zayne registering if it’s really you in front of him and yes it is you. “Is this your way of punishing me?” “No- I, absolutely not..” Then you explained to him what had happened for the past few months, he then gave you a head pat. “Hm, if that’s the case then, can we stop this punishment now?” 

Rafayel

He was frustrated for a week or so.

Why did you leave without a word? You are his bodyguard after all, shouldn’t you ask for a sick leave or something before you leave? But you didn’t.

He’s sure to himself that you are capable of taking care of yourself, so why is he worrying too much about you? He still continues to message you even though he knows damn well you won’t respond to him.. “... are you asleep?” “Come find me when you wake up.” 

He tried his best to enjoy the things he does every day even if your presence is not there, it’s not really a big deal really. (p.s: it’s a big deal to him to be honest.)

Then you return – His studio was a mess, Thomas already tried his best to cheer him up to tidy his studio but it was always different when you’re there and… there you are facing his back as he continues to paint a new art piece, you assume. 

“So you finally decided to show up, huh?” There is the sassy Rafayel you knew, now facing you. “By the way, I went to art exhibitions, sketching and painting alone, no big deal really.” He didn't even realize how much he misses you, with a sigh and giving him an apologetic smile you couldn’t help but laugh lightly on his antics – whenever he crossed his arms and pouts, you couldn’t help but offer him a hug. “... are you mad?” “Hmph. I can’t get mad at you and.. Welcome back my bodyguard.”

—

the messages I was referring to, like 😭😭😭

A lightee ask than usual but do you have any food or eating habit thoughts?

Ooohooohh, I did a whole ass seminar on the history of food. Failed it because I almost bled to death but I got to keep all the material! I've got.... a lot of thoughts and feelings about food culture. Too goddamn many, tbh. This got really long so I'll have to do a part two for other characters if wanted but lol enjoy.

Alfred:

 —Actually pretty gourmet little shit when he's got time and effort. He's made food Maria loves so often she has to give up on pretending she didn't enjoy it because fucking hell, he makes good chilaquiles after they've been drinking and fucking. There is, however, a non-zero chance he hasn't eaten a vegetable since the Nixon administration.

 —With that combustion engine metabolism, he's also perpetually hungry, so he eats whatever is around him. His guts do not like this, especially when it's a lot of dairy.

 —He has that kind of lactose intolerance that's tied to his health and stress, so if he's been particularly freaked out lately, he'll remind the world of his nuclear arsenal when he's got to use the toilet after that triple cheeseburger with a side of deep-fried cheese curds.

 —He's a stress eater too. He eats every negative emotion he's ever had especially when he's trying not to binge drink or do drugs.

 —He’s exceptionally food-motivated. They didn’t call one of his first major historical eras ‘the starving time’ without reason. He has preferences, but food is also food, and he’ll genuinely enjoy it in most forms as long as it's not rotten or otherwise godawful. Cowboy coffee and beans for ten days straight, and he will genuinely be the only man on that cow trail not sick of it by the end.

 —This also goes into why he’s so generous with food. He’s big on homemade food. He’ll make a whole big ass batch of like some sort of mac and cheese, and all the neighbours will get a big ol’ bowl of it with an ‘oh just return the Tupperware whenever,’ and it will genuinely be one of the best things they’ve ever eaten in their lives. Europeans recoil in horror, but our portion sizes are almost never single servings. It’s a generosity and hospitality practice except drinks. He really will down like a 2 liter of Slurpee in a single sitting.

 —He doesn’t mind eating alone. Actually prefers it sometimes. He loves eating in his car. American frontier culture, especially mountain men, had an often hyper-individualized, almost mythic culture of spending long periods alone in the woods and not being very sociable; thus a lot of situations where single servings were a thing, eating alone in quiet without something to do can be a real goddamn luxury.

 —He’s a really big protein guy with his metabolism. Sometimes exists on protein shakes but is more often a beef or barbeque or ham or alligator jerky. And a somewhat chunky Alfred is a healthy Alfred. A perfectly cut no flab Alfred is an Alfred who might be severely dehydrated and on several kinds of uppers.

 —He has better tastes than Arthur who didn't really realize food was supposed to taste good until like ten years ago but his combinations can be equally wild and unappetizing as they are batshit tasty.

—He loves spicy food. He's got so many opinions about hot sauces.

—He’s always hungry. If he isn’t hungry or turns down food, its genuinely a bad sign. If he turns down anything or just is just picking at it his food alarm bells should be sounding. He’s either about to declare war or puke all over the table or keel over dead. Peckish or food coma is his default state. Like if he was a smaller guy someone would say he’s got a binge disorder but he’s tall and beefy so he’s pretty okay.

 —Incredibly adventurous eater too. People will assume since there’s that old school culture of Anglo-American who eats the same 7 meals every week and might keel over dead if the meatloaf is slightly different he’ll be a bit hard to please but then he’s absolutely charmed by everything from Korean kimchi to Lithuanian Lašiniai.

 —He loves anyone who feeds him, just got to be a bit careful because he’s got surprisingly delicate stomach for the world superpower.

 —That American obsession with authencity means he’s surprisingly good at remembering people’s food culture or eating norms. He figured out chopsticks in ten seconds and quickly picked up the cues and manners of eating in any given culture. Still struggles with modulating his voice and personality, so he can often come across as rude, but he's so excited to do so. It's almost frustrating how happy he is to try and adapt to people around him and how happy he can be to fit in.

Matt:

 —He's a very good cook when he's putting in effort for other people, but he's not really like Alfred, who he'll make a whole ass meal for one just to relax on a Sunday.

 —He does tend to eat more vegetables than Alfred, but only because his northern vitamin deficiency has him binging them when he can afford them or they're available during the summer.

  —He can be weirdly picky on his own, but no one ever really needs to ask about his favourite food or how he likes anything because he always just goes with the flow around other people. “Just get me whatever you’re getting.” comes out of his mouth often.

 —There's a lot of sour cream/crema and yoghurt/coconut milk involved when he eats Mexican or Indian food for as much as he loves it.

 —Katya was singlehandedly responsible for his ability to maintain a normal weight during the 20th century by adding rye bread and perogies/vyrenki to his diet. He craves mushroom-umami flavours when he misses her, which is most of the time.

 —When he’s normal and eating the Anglo-North American diet, but he isn’t always eating it, he gets some strong sugar cravings, especially when he’s west of Manitoba. He’s as fond of birch syrup as a flavour as he is maple; there’s just less production. But the kind of deprivation he got and his own tendencies to not eat sometimes cause white sugar to just straight-up burns.

 —There's very much something of François to Matt's dietary habits, but less in his personal tastes and more in that he might be more sensitive to flavours. He has that kind of discerning and slightly oversensitive palate, but he’s a shitty perpetually broke frontier settler colony. He knows better/feels too guilty/is too embarrassed of himself to really indulge it.

 —He kept too much of his peasant communalism in his eating habits. Where Anglo-American communities did have a lot of cooperation, communal eating was a special occasion. The norm was based on the individual household. In contrast, French Canadian habitants still technically lived on medieval land plots and owed labour to a lord while also having a culture of seasonal male work, so Matt grew up used to communal ovens and eating most of his meals around others. Later, in Arthur’s jurisdiction, it was usually the same. He got a plate of whatever he was given, and it wasn’t something he had ever had to initiate himself.

 —Partially, he's sometimes exceptionally bad at eating when he has to choose to do it himself. Especially since the Americanization of the food culture took hold in the '80s and '90s. Whereas Alfred is food motivated from going without when he was little, Matt learned how to block out physical sensation until he collapsed because it was rare that someone, including himself, cared about what kind of state he was in. He just doesn’t eat at all when he’s stressed or anxious. And now it's his sole responsibility to do so as there aren’t the same community structures. He has a lot of Alfred’s abundance now, all the brunch and BBQ places anyone could ask for, but it hasn’t meshed with his eating habits. His people gave up so much of their communal eating in exchange for various choices and then wondered why they were so lonely. So he’ll just microwave a potato or a packet of Kraft dinner a day for a week straight and wonder why he feels dead because, technically, he did eat something. It’s seriously a miracle he got as tall as he did.

 —Feed him nothing but hardtack for three years, and he won't complain until he's dropped dead of scurvy. If Arthur puts some sort of godforsaken mixture of plum sauce or gin-infused spag bol in front of him, he’ll compliment it before he disassociates to get at least some of it down.

You asked for Solangelo asks, so…. HEADCANONS GO!! Everything from little outings there went on, Nico meeting Naomi (assuming you HC her as alive), small things they do to annoy each other, angst, etc. literally anything!! Go wild!!

i am shaking like a feral animal with too much energy and no outlet omG Will hurt his wrist once when he was younger, practicing archery with Lee. It was a delicate thing, the way Lee wrapped him up with an ace bandage and smiled at him. "You did good! It's okay." A golden smile that managed to stop Will's tears. He's older now. He can't remember the last time he hurt his wrist. He wears an ace bandage every day of his life. His siblings, the younger ones that weren't there to remember, question him. Will smiles and ruffles their hair "It's okay! Everythin's good, don't worry bout it." Some part of him wonders what Lee would think.

Will is actually good at many things. Healing and medicine is his main focus, but that's because it's the only thing he thinks he's good at. Many demigods, many of Will's siblings, have one specific thing that they excel at. Which is why Will feels so horrible that he's not good at anything. He is though, he's just too thickheaded to realize that. He sings well, maybe not as good as his siblings or his mom or whoever else, but he's got a good campfire/lullaby voice. Soothing and warm, crackles like a fire or a candle light. Calming, always skewed by a smile. If he could only hear himself... Will gets tattoos for every patient he doesn't save. At first, the idea had come up to him because he couldn't stop thinking about it. The feeling of blood wouldn't wash off his hands, every time he closed his eyes he could see that strain in their face... He needed to do something about it. Then it became something to help him remember. New campers come every year, and they don't know the stories of those that passed before them. It feels unfair, to let those people's memories fade. So for each patient he can't save, Will gets a singular black line tattooed on his forearm. Will is very good at volleyball. I have nothing else to say about that. (well, maybe I do. I like to think that Nico sits off by the sides of the court, a step in "water boy" for Will's team. He gets so distracted, though, he may as well not even have the title. Kayla and Austin tease Will about his "cheerleader") Will uses petnames and nicknames like it's the only thing he knows. Kiddo, sweetheart, hun. Tacked on to the end of every sentence. It's not anything big when he starts coming up with nicknames for Nico, that's just how Will is. Nico, however, doesn't understand nicknames. He doesn't know how they're supposed to be used, when it's appropriate and when it's not, how close you have to be to a person to use a nickname. It's a big deal, the first day Nico calls Will "sunshine." Not a teasing statement, like it normally is, but tied on to the end of a sentence. Nico stutters over the word, his cheeks flushed red. Will stops what he's doing to stare at Nico, slack-jawed.

Nico doesn't like to sing. He doesn't like to talk, really. His voice is raspy, he can imagine it grating on the ears of those he speaks to. It makes him nervous. Will loves Nico's voice. Nico doesn't ramble much but, oh, when he does... Sometimes Will asks Nico specific questions that he knows to get a rise out of the boy, just to hear him talk

Nico was very nervous to meet Naomi. Will loved his mom (mama, he calls her) very very much, that was obvious to everyone. With more time to relax, Nico tries to dig up memories from his past. He doesn't remember everything, but he does remember how much he loved his mother. How beautiful she was, in her fine dresses, perched on a chair watching her children. She was a proper woman, manners were a necessity, etiquette was too. In some was, Sally Jackson reminded Nico of his own mother. A knowing smile, the tilt of her head when she spoke to you. But other than that, she was so different. Nico doesn't know how to act around Naomi. He had already asked Will on a date, had already come out to the whole camp, before Will suggests going to Texas for a few days. It brings Nico a bit of peace, knowing that he'll have the chance to ask Naomi for her permission to date her son. But it terrified him regardless. The conflicting emotions gave him a headache. Will thought it was sweet that he cared so much.

Contrary to popular belief, Nico does not cuss. He has a very vivid memory of his youth, messing with Bianca and saying very specific words just to annoy her. His mother had heard and made him wash his mouth out with soap. Percy cusses, casually enough, but never in front of an authoritative figure. Nico frowns at him when he does, and Percy laughs. Jason doesn't cuss, but he uses just about every filler word known to man. Reyna doesn't cuss, but she doesn't have to. The change in her tone, her composure, is scary enough on it's own. Hazel doesn't cuss. At least, not until she's angry. She has the foulest mouth Nico has ever heard. Will cusses like it's no bodies business. Strings of foul words in a southern drawl yelled as someone walks into the infirmary on Will's day off. Nico gasps the first time he hears Will speak like this.

ugh and there's more in my brain but i feel like i've already said too much so here you go!

Generally I think the 2023 Camelot cast recording does a very good job of conveying the onstage vibe of pretty much all the songs with the dialouge snippets. However in my heart of hearts I truly believe the Simple Joys of Maidenhood feels incomplete without the moment of Arthur realizing Guenevere has run away and right to him after she sings her intro. I'm sure I could choose many hills to die on for cast recording opinions but apparently the one I feel the most is a particularly good delivery of the word shit.

do they ever just…make out. like lay there for half an hour and just do it for the hell of it. or are they like hmm but we COULD be fucking let’s do that

Of course they do! It just wouldn't be very interesting to read.

funniest (/s) irony about my pains is that the only painkiller that actually helps (mostly, not entirely) likely also makes them worse in the long run. i just love having a body and being alive!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“it must be so nice being tall you can do so much” no one will ever hold you like you hold them and even at your smallest you were treated like you were bigger and more capable than anyone else

OMG HDU NOT REBLOG LITERALLY EVERYTHING U LIKE?!?!

I did notice that some people (vagueblogging) who go on about how LIKES DO NOTHING YOU MUST REBLOG EVERYTHING and YOU MUST SUPPORT CONTENT CREATORS WITH REBLOGS OR YOU MURDER FANDOM actually run quite tightly-curated blogs themselves. So either they just happen to only enjoy (and thus - of course! - reblog) content very similar to what they make themselves or... they're not actually reblogging everyone else's posts the way they demand we do of theirs. Is this because, I venture, they want to keep their own blog to fairly consistent themes, because they know that if they just reblogged literally every post they appreciated in some way they'd appear on their followers dashes so often that people might go "they're getting a bit spammy, I can't keep up with this flood of widely varying content I have no personal interest in, I'll just unfollow them"?

There have been one or two angry posts about the moral responsibility to reblog everything you see where when I go to the OP's blog it's oddly coherent in theme and consists mostly of their own content or already popular content that I don't know was mostly there to maintain a reciprocal promotional relationship but like... I do wonder.

I just happen to only like things made by popular people who make content similar to my own, okay?!?! You though... you need to put my desire for fame and tumblr popularity over your own desire to curate the content that appears on your blog, as well as over any concerns about 'spamming' your own followers. My content could never be considered spam, by anyone! Why don't you support me? THIS IS HOW FANDOMS DIE YOU KNOW!!

i just need everyone to know once in a while of meikerio okay dress up games i know people love them! and theres website right there! have fun!

i wish society as a whole could slow down. only way i can explain is rn we’re like emails when we should be like faxes 😔

I miss all my old friends and it's sad to think that they probably don't feel the same way

"Not actually out but also no one who sees me doesn't think that there's something going on" is a fun state to be in

Today is one of those days that I would drink if I had the money to

I can't wait to get the fuck out of this apartment