bumbercar

[bumbercar]

Hold On Tight

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A/N: this is my first time writing again in A WHILE. also my very first time writing this kinda stuff iykyk pls don’t come for me y’all. THIS IS SO SHORT IK. poorly written aftercare! also not proofread oops

warnings: smut w little to no plot, no use of y/n, reader not described as femme or masc, mean dom!abby, brat!reader, afab reader, no features are specified, fingering (r! receiving) edging (r! receiving), overstimulation (r! receiving) [not for long though sorry]

also abby’s strap is referred to as her dick 🫶

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A whine slips out of your mouth as you were once again denied of your climax.

Abby has been playing with you for hours now. You were a complete brat the day before, and you were now facing the consequences.

She was ruthless. Smiling to herself; turning the vibrator to the highest setting as she circles it directly on your clit.

For her, you were just so easy to read.

Once your back arches and your legs start to shake as the look of pure ecstasy is written on your face, she stops.

“Y’know babe, this was supposed to be a punishment,” She chuckles as she slides her middle finger down to your entrance and feels how wet you really are.

“—but it seems like you’re enjoying this a little bit too much.” She taunts.

Your mouth went agape as if you were to say something back, but you’re stopped when she suddenly dips her middle and index finger into your seeping cunt.

“Fuck, Abby—” Your breath hitches from the sudden entrance of her fingers.

“Did I say you could talk?” She gives you a stern look.

You lazily chuckle, rolling your hips against her fingers that were sliding in and out of you at a torturingly slow pace. “Didn’t say I couldn’t.”

You’ve always acted like a complete brat despite your position—it was simply just a part of your plan, since Abby gets to put you in your place. Every. Single. Time.

Abby raises her eyebrow in amusement as she leans closer, you faces now only inches away. The faux cock attached to the harness on Abby’s hips touch your inner thigh as she delves her fingers deeper into your cunt. Abby curls them upwards, massaging the spot she knew very well would send you to over to the edge. Increasing her pace, your mouth hungs agape as your tits slightly move up and down from how hard she was fucking you with her fingers.

“You still haven’t learned your fucking lesson, haven’t you? Hm?”

Before you even realize it, Abby has managed to manhandle you so you were on all fours, roughly pushing your face down on the the pillow below you before you feel a sharp slap on your cunt.

You cry out, and Abby gives you no other warning before she delves in two fingers—in which you let out a hiss at the sudden stretch. Not that you weren’t soaking enough for her to slide right in. She only gave you a few pumps before removing her fingers altogether. You couldn’t help but arch your ass up—trying to get her to show at least a bit of mercy.

Your body covered with a sheen layer of your own perspiration, hairs stuck to your forehead, and your ass arched up perfectly for her to see how your cunt glistens from how long she’s had you waiting.

You hear Abby let out chuckle before her cock starts rubbing up and down your slit. With a hard smack of her heavy hand landing on your ass, she almost effortlessly slides in, immediately filling you to the brim.

You let out a guttural moan in relief, finally being filled up like you begged her to hours ago.

But that relief quickly fades as Abby’s pace gradually becomes unforgiving, turning you into a babbling mess as she relentlessly pounds into you.

“A-Ab!—oh, fuck!”

“Uh-uh. Don’t start with me. You wanna make up for how you acted yesterday, don’t you? Take it. Fucking. Take. It.” Abby pants, emphasizing each word with a harsher thrust, almost knocking the air out of you.

Abby then only adds up to it—putting you in a headlock as she continues to pound into your pussy. Your mouth is hung agape, brows knitted in pleasure as you felt yourself teetering closer and closer to the edge.

In an attempt to ground yourself, you have a death grip on her bicep, marking small crescent shapes on her skin. But you were too far in to notice.

“That’s it, baby, hold on tight for me.” Abby chuckles lowly.

Tears were now streaming down your face as you felt the band in your stomach tighten even more than the previous ones you felt from earlier. Of course, Abby notices—with you not letting her pull out so easily this time. She only slows down her pace for a moment as she grabs the vibrator from earlier, before continuing her rough pace.

Your mind is too fuzzy to figure out what was going on—only letting out a loud yelp when Abby presses the vibrator against your already abused and swollen clit. Immediately, your thighs start to shake, a telltale sign that you were about to cum. Abby smirks to herself as she brings her mouth to the shell of your ear.

“Go on, baby. You’ve earned it. Know you want to.” Abby gives her permission, and you were cumming in an instant. Your climax runs you over like a bus—having been teased for the whole day. Your moans were loud and uncontrollable as Abby never slowed down her hips.

When you finally rode out your orgasm, that’s when you start to squirm. Because you realized that Abby was nowhere near stopping.

Your brain was now a total mush, so you could only try to writhe away from the toy pressed against you clit, and the Abby’s cock that was reaching the spots inside you that made your world fucking spin.

But there was no escape.

You couldn’t move from Abby’s grip even when you tried, her strap reaching even deeper when you tried to move away from the vibrations. You could only take what Abby was giving you.

“Aww,” Abby mocks.

“You wanted to cum so bad earlier, didn’t you? Now, I’m going to make you cum—until I think you’ve learned your lesson. You hear me?” Abby says, her pace finally slowing down, but her thrusts now reaching impossibly deeper. She lets you take a breather, removing her arm around your neck as she noticed you went completely nonverbal from your last orgasm.

Abby’s voice turns gentle, stopping her movements as she checks in on you.

“Hey, baby. You okay?” She softly asks, tucking your disheveled hair away from your face. There, she was met with your dazed eyes, flashing her a lazy, toothy grin which then makes her chuckle.

“Do you wanna stop?” Abby checks in, caressing your hair.

“A break would be nice…” You hoarsely reply and Abby nods, helping you lay on your back as your legs immediately gave up—laying flat on the bed.

“M’gonna go get a towel so I can clean you up, ‘kay? I won’t be long.” Abby gets up from the bed.

You weakly grab onto her arm. “But you haven’t even…”

Abby clicks her tounge, shaking her head with a small smile. “I don’t mind. Gotta take care of you first. You can make it up to me tomorrow if you’re not too sore,” She sends you a wink and a quick peck on the lips before going to get a towel.

…and some new sheets.

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A/N: THIS WAS SOOO RUSHED BUT IT WAS SO FUN TO WRITE. THANK YOU ALL FOR READING AHHH

IF YOU HAVE ANY REQUESTS, I’LL GLADLY DO MY BEST TO WRITE EM!

[bumbercar]

Don't worry angey, i too would lick the shower water off feixiao's abs.

I hate drinking hot or warm water, but licking it off Feixiao’s abs is the only exception to this rule (any woman’s stomach I would lick off honestly) 🤤

Imagine her fox ears twitching in pleasure as she watches you slowly tracing the tip of your tongue across her muscles, making eye contact with her while she tries not to growl and pin you to the shower wall. Feixiao will be gentle with you most of the time considering her tremendous strength, but when you tease her like that with your hot, wet tongue, staring up at her so innocently like you have no idea how crazy you drive her, it’s hard to hold back her urge to ruin.

Oh, and if you keep up the act long enough, expect her not-so-little friend to stick up and brush against your throat. Almost like it’s begging for your tongue’s attention too.

[bumbercar]

♥︎ THE GHOST OF YOU ♥︎

+ warnings: mentions of death of a character, wlw relationship

+ ft: ghost!beidou x pirate!fem reader

+ wc: 0.9k

+ for @edgeray's halloween event <3

+ note: this is kinda angsty, but i couldn't help it y'all. dead captain beidou gets to your feelings for reallll.

men dni!!

the sea was silent.

it had felt that way since she died. her hearty laugh was gone, the slaps against your back whenever she got a bit too excited and drunk.

and most importantly, her in general. her chapped lips against yours, her firm hands running across your body, embracing you when the storms were heavy.

she had been your captain, but she was also your love. she was your everything.

and that damn pirate had to kill her.

after that, you had taken your leave from her crew. you couldn't stay, it hurt too much to see the jolly roger the two of you had designed as children. those days had been rough, the two of you working for whatever scraps, but you were happy.

you didn't know how you could even be out on the sea right now. everything about it brought her flooding into your mind, from the smell of the salty sea, so the feeling of sand on your feet when landing on a shore. it all still stung.

you lay in your empty bed on the small ship, tossing and turning endlessly. a small wind had picked up, lanterns banging against wood disturbing that former silence. it helped, just a bit, to take your mind off her. but it would never fully soothe the pain.

a wailing sound soon joined the mix. it sounded like some lost soul, crying out for whoever.

fortunately for you, you didn't believe in ghost stories. davy jones, dead crewmates coming back to find you, it was all pirate bullshit meant to scare away youngins, right?

then why did it sound like your name being wailed? as if you were being summoned.

you open the door from your chambers, stepping out onto the deck. oddly, everything went silent again. you shake your head, thinking you must have had bad booze, or the food had gone bad.

as you turn to walk back to your room, a cold hand touches your shoulder. quickly, you turn around, hand on the holster of your gun.

and there she stood.

your lover, in all her glory. black hair cascading down those broad shoulders, the red satin covering one eye still clinging to her face. the scars, running down her body, decorating her tanned thighs and arms.

"i-it can't be" is all you can whisper, all you can mutter. there's no way its her.

and there it is. that laugh, the one from deep within her belly, the one you'd kill a man for. "i told ya, sweetheart, not even death could take me from you."

you reach out, slowly taking her calloused hand into yours. it was cool, and a shiver traveled down her spine. "h-how is this possible?"

"i told ya! those ghost stories were real." she chuckles again, bringing you closer to her cold, translucent body, hugging you tightly. "why'd ya abandon our ship though?" beidou ask.

"i-i couldn't bare it, my love. you were everywhere, it made me sick, it made me mad... besides, didn't we start out on this very tiny ship?" you ask, letting her cup your cheek.

"we did, didn't we?" beidou admires the ship she stands on with you. "i-i didn't think i'd ever see ya again," she quietly confess, a change in her usually loud and proud demeanor.

"i didn't either." you confess back.

the two of you stand in silence, holding each other dearly, not daring to speak again. finally, you open your mouth, a single question racking your mind:

"can you stay?"

beidou meets your eyes, a somber look creeping across her face. "'m afraid not, my little seal. but i promise to visit from time to time, mkay?"

her promise fills your heart with a tiny bit of hope, knowing that she wasn't gone forever, just not always by your side. "i'm gonna hold ya to that, beidou."

"i know ya will." she whispers, kissing your lips softly. her forehead presses against yours, and you suddenly forget everything: your anger, your hatred, your despise of that man. all that mattered was her, right now, in your arms.

"can ya stay the night?" you whisper, scared of what her answer might be.

"yes, my love, i can. and i will." beidou kisses your lips again, the tender action pulling at your broken heartstrings.

you wish she could stay forever, be by your side all over again. but this would do.

and so, you guide her back to the tiny bed, the one you two shared when you first began your trip as pirates. she holds you close the entire time, letting you tell her about your adventures, stealing a kiss every now and again.

finally, sleep washes over you, as you fall asleep in your lovers arms, your dreams finally sweet again.

but as you wake up, beidou is gone, all but a note that says 'i will return' in her messy handwriting. you hold dearly onto the letter, letting the tears stream down your cheeks.

you know she'll be back, but for now, and when she does, you'll find some way to keep her forever. for now, her little visits would have to suffice.

©2024 roronoaism - please do not repost or translate my works on other media sites ♡

[bumbercar]

──────3 MINDFUCK ༺♱༻

WEEK 4 | SINNERS SAVAGERY + APART OF @edgeray EVENT

| Synopsis | Demons linger where shadows play; in silence, hearts betray, whispers echo, and desires catch fire in the haunting depths of the night.

With every kiss, a scythe may cut, in which terror envelops one's gut; together they dance on the edge of fate, finding beauty in a love that is too late.

So let the night weave its spell, for in the dark they know so well, and though demons are whispering fright, in their twilight, the lights are ignited.

| Starring | Slasher!Arlecchino x Investigative-Psychologist!Reader

| Setting | SLASHER/SERIAL KILLER AU

| Scenario | [ ONESHOT ] SMUT Porn with plot. Long Introduction. Dark romance. Intersex Arlecchino. Manipulation. Body worship. Dacryphilia. Obsessive & sadistic Arle. Cunnilingus. Fingerfucking. Degrading & Praise Kink. Implied cannibalism. Mastrubation. Unreliable character. Female anatomy for reader, pronouns are not mentioned. 

► RADIO CHANNEL [ Author note ]

⚝ TAKE OFF MY CLOTHES, OH, BLESS ME, FATHER.  ⚝ Ended on a cliff hanger lmfao, I will probably expand on it since this is only ⅓ of the ideas I have for Slasher Arle. ⚝ Anyway, thank you so much to Ray for letting me participate in this event <3 Even though it’s quite late but nonetheless thank you for accepting my work as a part of your event…! ⚝ This is how I imagine Slasher Arlecchino to look like or basically arlecchino from commedia dell'arte

[ Word count: 5147 ] | Art credit: Nut_nog on Twitter | Heart divider gif

"In and every heart that is meticulously dissected by my hand has its part in orchestrating the string of fates to bring you closer to me... and further away from life, my greatest tragedy."

Those were the exact words spoken to you during a mysterious call on the very first Halloween Eve when the infamous Mirthless Harlequin made her debut as a renowned and feared killer.

Frightened citizens have declared many titles for the Mirthless Harlequin, such as The Jester who doesn't laugh, The Living Embodiment of Demons, The Surgeon, and The Heart Collector.

Yet all these titles are of little to no comparison to the true identity of the beast that lies dormant behind that twisted, sinister mask.

The muted saturation of the walls is splotched in what is most likely the victim's blood; written on it is the detail of what had transpired before the crime scene occurred, and the freshest blood drips down the wall, spelling the name of the person responsible for the attack as if in pride or apathy toward the fallen soul.

At the centre lies a chair and a small table draped in a deep velvet cloth; an organ rests atop it, the very one that would become a trademark for the killer's distorted way of leaving a mark behind. A heart, perfectly preserved with it carefully wrapped in crimson ribbons, each twist and turn creating intricate patterns that speak volumes about the attempt at humanising the organ.

Around the table, papers of various poems and photographs of the victim's missing parts were scattered across, but even with those morbid aspects, one letter in particular has caught the eyes of the world. A letter in which a cryptic note rests inside, hinting at an obsession, not towards the killing but towards the person who will, no, whom she wants to investigate and find the truth behind the "Mirthless Harlequin."

The second paragraph was quite strange, switching from the gruesome details of the first to quoting a poet and novelist for children and young adults as follows:

Walls have ears. Doors have eyes. Trees have voices. Beasts tell lies. Beware the rain. Beware the snow. Beware the man. You think you may know.

But it wasn't until the very last paragraph that you would finally choose to be the one in charge of leading the case; there your name is written repeatedly, blood surrounds it like the base of a cake, and an unknown white substance decorates it like frosting, a substance you come to identify and regret upon investigation.

A mask which you dreaded oh so much, a mask which you wanted to rip apart, and yet when that day arrived, you prayed to the Lord above to take away the sight of what lies hidden by the mask, a sight of the unmistakable face your body and soul have fallen into the grasp of. 

The aroma of caffeine envelops your senses, overshadowing the aching desire to rest. Although it keeps your consciousness awake, you cannot replicate the same for your body.

Your blinks began to weigh your eyelids heavily with their slow momentum, and at any second now, you feared your body could give out on you and you would fall face-first onto the office coffee machine.

Much anticipated, your body did give out, but the harsh feeling of the appliance never came into contact with your skin; rather, a calloused yet careful hand pressed against your forehead, strong enough to prevent you from falling over.

"It's no wonder you haven't answered my messages or calls," an inviting yet foreboding voice sounds beside you. "Working overtime isn't going to earn you an easy ticket to an ongoing decade-long murder case—"

"I know, I know, you don't have to lecture me like everyone else; I have heard it about a thousand times already," you grumbled, grabbing her wrist and using it to straighten yourself before your eyes made contact with her crimson-crossed ones.

Arlecchino's eyebrows are furrowed, darkening her expression further; her eyes, which are often alluring and enigmatic due to her ability to hide the complexity of human emotions, seem to take on a more dangerous underlining.

Whatever tiredness had anchored you suddenly disappeared as she pulled your hand off hers, switching it so that she would be the one gripping your wrist. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second tightening the tension in the air and reflecting her thinning patience. She leaned down, her head turned to the side to whisper into your ear, but when she parted her lips, no words sounded out—a rare occasion showing the intensity of her frustration.

Her jaw clenches. "But you still refuse to listen; how can they depend on their best investigative psychologist when the one in question has not a single sane cell left to think with?" she asks, a rhetorical question you noted, but her words come out more like a growl demanding an answer.

"I am sane enough to work, and excuse me...! I didn't study my fucking ass off for nothing; I will have you know that just because I let you have your way with me so often doesn't mean I am not independent; for fuck's sake, I graduated with high honors!"

You expected her to fire back a remark rebutting your claims, seeing the twitch of her mouth, but she quickly caught you off guard when she placed her hand on your knee and held you over her shoulder.

You let out a surprised sound, instantly yelling with fisted hands coming into contact with her back in a furious retort, "ARLE! LET ME DOWN."

"Stop acting like a child; this is for your own health."

"I AM PERFECTLY HEALTHY-" Arlecchino interrupted you, her voice booming throughout the entire police department. "Healthy is a word that perfectly describes the OPPOSITE of what you are; you have been skipping your meals and overworking yourself to the point of passing out."

You tried giving your two cents, but sensing your next moves, her voice increased in volume. "I WILL be taking you back home, and you WILL have a warm bath, eat a proper meal, and go to sleep; end of statement."

Like a cowardly dog, when its owner is disappointed in it, you can only soak in annoyed silence and mumble incoherent, derogatory language that Arlecchino chooses to ignore.

Arriving at your car, Arlecchino put you down in the passenger seat, buckling your belt and closing the door for you before going to the driver's seat herself.

You turn to look at her the moment she has settled down, leaning as close to her as possible with the seat belt wrapped around you.

"Peruere-! You don't get it, Halloween Eve is coming up in a few days, which means she will be committing her 13th crime this year! Thirteen victims-!"

Arlecchino slowly turns her head to you, her facial features clearly expressionless to the naked eye, but to you, this is the most enraged you have ever seen her.

"Do you hear how insane you sound right now? You're obsessed. To think a criminal has you acting this way; I would even dare say you sound downright in love with this murderer." Arlecchino leaned in closer, and instinctively you flinched away slightly. "Don't tell me that you would prioritise your parasocial relationship with a killer over the person whom you married." Although it doesn't sound like a question, it was phrased like one by her tone.

You bite your bottom lip and slump back into your seat with an audible groan; it wasn't because you couldn't answer the question, no, far from it. If it were any normal argument between you two, then you would've easily answered no; you wouldn't choose a killer over her, your lover, but the fact that she would assume such things from you has hit a spot you never knew she could. How can she think so lowly of me to presume the worst betrayal of all, obsessive towards THAT forsaken woman? Can someone not do their job without any intent of malice anymore?! The absurdity of the situation has your head aching, to believe that it all started because you wanted to make sure no one else would die from the 'Mirthless Harlequin' anymore, all because you chose selflessness over selfishness.

The ride back home would be in complete silence as you stubbornly refuse to apologise for your actions, nor would Arlecchino stoop so low as to abandon the facts and satisfy a brat.

"I'm going to prepare your bath; don't do anything unnecessary while I'm gone."

Arlecchino has calmed down from the argument during the quiet ride back home and is rather friendly now; monetarily, she places her hand on top of your head and ruffles it as she makes her way past you.

"I'm not your kid," you groan, running your hands through your hair to fix the mess that she made.

Your lover only glanced over her shoulder with a glare, a silent threat to your words, but nothing you couldn't handle, and thus she left for your shared bedroom to prepare a bath.

You stand in the hallway, confused about what to do next as you're not usually this free; it's not that you overwork often; it's that you're often way too engaged in what you are doing. Admittedly, you couldn't really say that 1 a.m. is early, especially for most people, as they are asleep by and/or before this time. You turn around for a split moment to make sure the door is locked before you take off your shoes and place them in the wooden shoe rack.

"Might as well analyse that data report Navia gave to me earlier."

You stifle a yawn as you walk up the stairs, turning the corner into the hallway that leads to your office and shared bedroom. The quiet of the night surrounds the house with the exception of the light sound of water coming from the bedroom, a perfect blend with the soft creak of the floorboards beneath your feet.

You perk up and see the many portraits displayed across the hallway of you and Arlecchino, some of them including your friends and coworkers. For what seems like the first time in a long time, a curve is formed in the corner of your mouth.

You stand in front of your office door, eyes gazing at the portraits beside it featuring Arlecchino and you back when you first started dating one another; you still remember that day vividly. It was 12 years ago, a week before the infamous killer first appeared. Your eyes narrow slightly; what a coincidence, you think; life works in such mysterious ways, but it's still often shocking how different destinies are all tied together in the pathway of fate.

Shrugging it off, you grasp the wooden handle of the dark oak door leading to your workspace, twisting it before cracking it open slightly. Just then, a memory of the earlier argument between Arlecchino surfaces, piercing your thoughts.

"Don't tell me that you would prioritise your parasocial relationship with a killer over the person whom you married."

Now that you think about it, Arlecchino has been acting quite out of character today; when you usually have over time, she isn't as mad as she was today, but then again, you did ignore her messages and calls for almost 24 hours. However, in your utmost defence, you need to have your phone on silent mode so you won't be distracted and procrastinate. Coupled with the recent data, you and the rest of the Harlequin investigation team have been hard at work accumulating it over the last few months.

In one of the meetings discussing the various sources gathered for the infamous killer case, a single piece of evidence caught your attention: "A single white hair strand," you mumbled.

"What are you muttering about?"

A shiver runs down your spine, a moment of fear clouding your mind at the sudden sound of another voice, but you're quick to calm down once you recognize the voice belongs to none other than Arlecchino.

"Peruere..." You turn around and say, "Don't creep up on me like that again; it's scary."

Arlecchino raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms and shaking her head in disapproval. "You are standing in front of the door, mumbling incoherent words to yourself in the dark; if it were any other person, wouldn't you be considered the unsettling one?"

Blink, blink, blink. You couldn't even deny it because she's right, and the truth hangs in the air like a balloon waiting to pop.

"Arg... Whatever, forget what you heard and saw; I was thinking about work. By the way, you're done with setting up the bath, right?" You grab her hand, not waiting for a reply to lead her inside and into the bathroom.

"You wanted to bathe together?" Her voice softens, tinged with an unexpected apologetic tone for not considering this turn of events. "I'm afraid I can't; I need to prepare dinner for you since you have been eating only processed food lately, and it's detrimental to your heart."

"Ah..." A wave of embarrassment crashes over you as you realise how swiftly you had dragged her inside and assumed the fact that you would bathe together before even asking for her permission or if she was in the mood to do so in the first place. "I see... It's okay."

Seeing the flustered and disappointed undertone of your words and expression, Arlecchino devises a solution to improve your mood.

"If I am fast enough, I can join you later; is that alright with you?"

Much to your shame, you nodded way too fast for your liking, which in turn resulted in a light smirk from Arlecchino sent your way for the sudden clinginess. Her dark, tattooed hand rises and descends gently, resting on your head as she pats it lightly. The gesture is both comforting and oddly intimate, a soft reminder that you are her lover and the only one capable of seeing this side of her, seeing Peruere.

"Call me if you need anything."

"Mkay, I love you," you whisper, getting closer to the bath as you begin to take off your clothes.

"... Yes, I... love you too."

You didn't question the odd pacing of her words, assuming that she's still not used to saying those words back even after a decade of being together. The door closes with a soft click, and you're fully undressed, a sigh leaving your lips as you step foot inside the hot bath.

You allow your body to relax in the tranquil warmth of the softly cascading water, sinking deeper until only the features above your nose remain above the surface. The gentle flow conceals you whole, creating a cocoon of serenity, an occurrence that is rare for the likes of you. As you close your eyes, the world outside seems to fade away, leaving only the soothing sounds of the water and the faint echoes of your thoughts. In this moment of peacefulness, you allow yourself to let go of all the things that have weighed you down, allowing comfort to wash them away and ground you in a sense of much-needed peace.

Your thoughts linger on what food Arlecchino will be making for you, how pleasant her skin would feel against yours right now, and the upcoming Halloween Eve.

"A single white hair strand? How do I know this isn’t some sort of ploy she set up?” You question Navia, arms crossed in a vice-like grip, as you analyse the hair under the microscope. “Is it fake hair or from a doll?”

"Haha, it's simple, Dr. Snezhevna, because she herself stated in this letter that the hair strand belongs to her,” Navia replies, her tone steady and amused as she watches your demeanour shift dramatically upon seeing the familiar letter in her hand.

An audible groan escapes your lips as you snatch the letter and another from the pile of letters dedicated to the killer to compare the heart stamp and writing styles. As you read, the distinct vocabulary matches flawlessly, with not a single difference between her signature stamp and her writing style, confirming she deliberately left her own DNA behind.

“This woman genuinely pisses me off... Does she think I’m a fool? Or is she that cocky to be under the impression we aren't capable of matching her information with our extensive network database?”

Navia lets out a light chuckle, leaning back in her chair and looking drastically more relaxed than you do.

“I’ve heard Commander Wriothesley uncovered that the fresh blood she uses to spell out her name contains a secret, obscure code imprinted onto it and that it doesn't belong to the victims, though we don't know exactly who it belongs to as of now.”

“Seriously?! God forbid this damn criminal gives me a break!” you exclaim, frustration bubbling over. “The day I finally catch her, I’m going to give her a piece of my damn mind, alright.”

You open your eyes and rise from the water, leaning back against the bath as you take a deep exhale.

"Who are you, and why am I the one you desire so much...?" You said aloud to yourself, your mind foggy with the jester again, easily shattering the peaceful atmosphere that had settled around you.

"Who am I?" Arlecchino's voice echoes throughout the bathroom, causing you to yelp at the unexpected sound.

"Peruere...! Do you seriously have to always randomly creep up on me?!" You turn to face her, your heart racing as you look up at her with displeasure.

"It is not I who am the problem, but it is you who lack awareness, darling; I called your name countless times, and you keep muttering to yourself as always."

Oh.

"Ah, oh, my apologies... hm, wait, are you already finished with cooking? How long have I been here...?" you ask, looking down at your reflection in the water with much shame before raising your hands from under to see the pruney fingers caused by your prolonged exposure to aqua.

"Less than half an hour, the food has already been brought up; you can go and eat right now if you want."

"But—" you tried protesting since you still wanted to bathe with her, but, as always, she read you so easily and responded before you could even get a sentence out.

"We have an eternity before us; you should eat first lest you want an upset stomach, and you should also begin getting ready for bed."

"Sigh, if you say so," you stand up from the bathtub, the warm water dripping from your skin as you reach for the towel hanging beside the tub, wrapping it around yourself snugly. You glance at Arlecchino with a small smile that then turns into a smirk. "You should keep the door open while you're washing up."

As expected, the teasing remark made little to no effect on her, and you're left with her staring at you, unamused.

"So bland, my love, you could have faked your expression or agreed for my sake."

You leave the room with a laugh, and as you take in the sight before you, you can't help the soft smile that replaces the smug smirk that had once dominated your features moments ago. Clothes carefully selected for your comfort and a perfect amount of portion for you to relish are laid out before you on your shared bed; what a thoughtful soulmate you have, you mentally acknowledge.

You lie contentedly inside the soft blankets, the light of the waning moon illuminating your features through the window, painting your face in its most desired parts. You sink further inside, your body never wanting to leave this paradisiacal space; yet likewise, life often works against you, and a notification causes you to straighten yourself grudgingly.

Who would be texting you this late is your initial thought, but the moment your eyes land on the unknown caller who has sent you a voicemail, you nearly drop your phone. Rapidly, you scan the room for the calendar, completely forgetting the phone in your hand has a built-in one, and your heart nearly drops as you realise it's the 29th. Two days before Halloween Eve and two days before the woman strikes again. Another unfortunate soul is soon to fall victim to a killer whose identity is yet to be known aside from her details as a woman with a jester-like appearance.

Shakily, you search for your earbuds and pair them to your phone upon retrieval before you open voicemail and press on the recently sent one. A chill runs down your spine at the sound of the familiar voice beginning to talk to you.

"In the ticking shadows where time slips away, a hero stands tall yet fears the fray.

With every heartbeat, the clock's cruel hand counts down the moments that they both understand.

Time is a thief, relentless and cold.

As you chase the thrill, the stories unfold.

Yet in this chaos, a bond begins to bloom.

Two souls entwined in the depths of doom.

A hero and a villain, bound by a thread.

In the twilight of choices, where both may tread.

The dawn of your death is arriving, my dearest angel. I await the day we shall personally introduce one another, which happens to be only two days from now."

Tsk. You clutch the phone in your hand, slumping back onto the mattress with a hand over your eyes. How frustrating it is to be haunted by someone who is seemingly untraceable, and now you have suddenly received confirmation on who the next victim will be, which conveniently enough happens to be you. You feel calm; you look relaxed, yet internally, you would be lying to yourself if you said you weren't terrified of what would happen to you on that fateful day.

You didn't realise you had been crying until Arlecchino's gentle hands brushed away the tears that streamed down your cheeks in quietude.

"Peruere..." You murmured, the sudden feeling of everything around you crashing down.

You removed your hands from your vision and wrapped them around her waist, pulling her close as you began to sob uncontrollably; the warmth of her body brought comfort to what was left of you. Your lover didn't say anything, opting to keep silent until moments later when the clock struck two.

"She's going to kill you on Halloween Eve," Arlecchino said eerily and softly.

You froze in place, the tears continuing to fall unchecked, but the moment she uttered those words, something sounded incredibly hard to swallow; you had worn earbuds the entire time to prevent her from hearing the voicemail, and there was not a soul who could have heard the message aside from you and the sender, the killer herself.

"But how did you know...?"

Arlecchino looked at you like you were a lost dog, and without many words, she shook her head in yet more disappointment. "Why else would you be crying? It's an obvious assumption based on how you have been acting as of late, the sudden unease, overworking for the past month, and your muttering about some sort of finding." 

Right, right, of course, that's correct; how foolish and frightful of you to think beyond the possibilities.

"Ahaha... Of course, I'm sorry, Peruere... I just need to relax; I am just... so scared. I have never felt such fear before, you know."

Arlecchino stared down into your glistening eyes in wordless moments, a long and slow pause of lifelong connection and understanding passing within those time frames. Slowly, she leaned down, her movements calculated and gentle, as if afraid to break your already fragile body.

Like second nature, your hands subconsciously trail her barely dry body to the nape of her neck, enveloping it and pulling her cooler frame to your warmer one.

Her gaze remained locked on yours, searching for the discomfort and fear lingering in your soul and how she, as your lover, could dissolve those worries into mindless tranquillity.

"Whatever happens," she whispered, her voice a sultry murmur in your ears, "you're not alone."

Multiple kisses follow those words, a few on the right side of your jawline to the left side, one here and there on your neck, and lastly on your collarbone, where she's blocked by the fabric of your shirt.

Simultaneously, Arlecchino pulls the cover off you and runs a hand through your hair, pushing back the strands that have obscured your beautiful features for her hungry eyes to feast on.

"Let me take care of you, little dove."

At the sound of the slight neediness in her raspy tone and that insatiable stare, you could feel a knot forming in your stomach and an aching feeling below it. You couldn't bring yourself to trust your own words, so, choosing the best possible option, you consented to her request with a nod.

Usually, the woman would say something about the lack of vocalisation, but today the air was of a different flavour because she took no time lifting your shirt just above your breasts.

She peppered kisses on every inch of your perfect imperfection, savouring the delicious taste of your body in her mouth; oh, how she wished she could devour it all.

"Peruere... please," you plead, desperate to cloud your mind with her rather than your impending doom.

"Patience," Arlecchino enunciated, her salivating tongue trailing your body but avoiding the part where you desire her the most.

Your impatience overwhelms you, and your hand goes to grip her wet hair, pulling her upward to your hardened nipples. In a weak attempt for her to fasten her pace, you let out a pathetic, whiny plea.

Through lidded eyes, her pupils direct to your face a prideful, almost invisible smirk that flashes on her lips at the sight of you breaking apart under her feathery touch.

"I have barely touched you, sweetheart, and here you are," Arlecchino pressed her knee directly on your clothed vagina, causing you to shamefully moan, "so eager for me."

Her hot mouth latches onto the right side of your perky nipple, making sure to give the left one the same attention by pinching it with her thumb and forefinger. A gasp is involuntarily ushered out of your lips, followed by more pleas for her to continue her relentless assault.

Pitying you this time, Arlecchino's pull at the hem of your pants caused a short cry of pain to be released from you and an unexpected whimper at the feel of the icy air against your womanhood.

"Naughty girl, such innocent looks but such perverted thoughts; you're already this wet," the tip of Arlecchino's finger touches your clitoral area. "And I haven't even started."

The slow progress of her foreplay obliterated to nothingness as she forcefully thrust two colossal fingers inside your aching cunt. A high-pitched scream pierced the room, but it would not be long until you were silenced by her mouth.

"How... adorable," Arlecchino groaned in between kisses, her eyes wide open to observe every twitch and change in your lascivious expression.

Like a starving animal, Arlecchino wanted more; she needed more, she craved more, and in a split moment of lost control, she decided to satiate her desire for your addictive melodies. Thus, she pulled away from your lips, increasing her speed and slipping in a third finger as your pussy morphed and fit her fingers like a puzzle piece.

You bite your lips, trying to muffle your sound as she plunges faster and deeper into you, and of course, this doesn't go unnoticed by her because how dare you try to get rid of the sound she's craving so much?

She manoeuvred you into a more advantageous position, pulling your legs over her shoulders, thrusting into the deepest part of your cunt, and rubbing your clitoris furiously with her thumb all the while she got to enjoy your pleasurable sounds up close.

"Good girl, fuck... just like that, sounds so good to me; you're so close, aren't you, doll?"

Arlecchino's hand comes to latch itself onto your hair, pulling it with satisfaction as an ominous grin creeps its way onto her once monotonic features. Her eyes seemingly take on a deeper vermilion hue at your face, filled pathetically with pleasure and fat with tears in those precious, mindless gazes.

"MMPH-AH," pant, pant, pant. "Don't stop! Fuck, fuck, fuck! I'm so close...! AH! PERUERE—"

Your back arches off the bed, eyes rolling back as you see a distorted reality comparable to that of heaven; so much pleasure and so much energy are used that the next thing you know, you are passed out on the bed while Arlecchino licks your cunt clean.

Arlecchino's thumb swipes over your lip in a tender touch, eyes scanning your serene sleeping form, and contrasting with the loving touch is a sinister grin spread across her features, a mix of admiration for her work of art and something darker that dances in her eyes during the dead of the night.

Her hand trails down to the aching bulge that's imprisoned in her pants as she studies the rise and fall of your chest. She pulls her hardened cock out, rubbing the leaking precum all over the base of her length like it is lubrication.

For a moment, she allows herself to bask in the sight of you all peaceful and unaware, completely vulnerable in your deep slumber. A mix of a moan and a groan sounds from her lips as she moves up and down her enraged member, the corners of her mouth curling higher as she considers the delicate line between protector and predator, each heartbeat echoing the thrill of the beautifully unknown night.

"Sweet dreams," she whispered, her words laced with a playful edge that held secrets only the abyssal night could understand. She masturbated faster, her climax coming quicker than she expected, but not one that was unappreciated. She pulled back slightly, that sinister grin never leaving her swollen lips, an unsettling mixture of warmth and foreboding in the stillness of the atmosphere.

She switched the same hand that was used to fuck you senseless to her mouth, and effectively, she came as she tasted your arousing scent and ejaculated all over you soon after.

A satisfied enough sigh emanates from her, opting to settle down on top of your chest after calming down from her high to feel the sound of your heartbeat against her ear. The smile that seemed to stretch endlessly expanded at the thought of your heart in her hand, devouring her mind. Soon enough, the beating of your heart shall be in her hands for her to safeguard until it can no longer pulsate without its host.

"My greatest tragedy."

[bumbercar]

THE PURGE

synopsis: (slasher! AU) a group of purgers break into your home.

featuring: arlecchino, columbina, sandrone, signora

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, dom characters, mentions of blood, vague descriptions of murder, there is a body, mentions of weapons, home invasion, masked se.x, five.some, org.y, transfem! columbina (she has a di.ck), strap ons, oral (both reader and character receiving), face sitting, fing.ering, slight exhibitio.n, may be ooc, not proofread.

art credits: high rise invasion.

Unloading the last of your groceries from the car, you closed the trunk and began walking towards the front entrance of your house. It was a somewhat chilly, somewhat warm day, March 21st to be exact. While the weather was probably enjoyable to those outside of your country, today was going to be a day of misery to many. From March 21st to March 22nd, The Purge will take place; a twelve hour period in which all crime including murder was going to be legal. 

You weren’t exactly sure why your government decided to mandate such a brutal “holiday” but unfortunately as someone who didn’t participate in the Purge, this made your life a lot harder than usual. You had to take extra precaution throughout the year to not make any enemies in your life, even going as far as to shut yourself off from having any friends or close family. 

‘Just twelve hours…I’ve done it several times before, I can do it again.’ You told yourself, unlocking the door to your house. ‘I’ll have to set up the security system again. Only three hours until the Purge.’ 

“Hey neighbor!” You heard a familiar voice call, causing you to look over at your neighbor who was perched against his fence. “Three hours until the Purge, huh?” 

“Ahaha…yeah.” You were getting nervous. It was never a good idea to bring up the Purge with anyone. 

“Hope you’re prepared. Lots of psychos out there who have access to the most dangerous weapons available. I even saw a woman with a chainsaw last year. Had a leather mask and everything.”

“Yeah…” you smiled, but honestly you just really wanted to get in your house.Your neighbor –although seemingly friendly– always gave you the creeps and you tried your best to be on his good side no matter what. 

“Well…Hope for the best for you during this Purge!” He smiled unnervingly wide, making you shiver and fumble to open your door. “Yep! You too!” You called out quickly, shutting the door behind you as quickly as possible. You locked the door immediately and carried your groceries to the kitchen, where you proceeded to double check every exit of the house.

You went through the yearly ritual. Double checking the doors and barricading them with heavy furniture, locking every single window and drawing the blinds (you would activate the security systems later), as well as making your way down to the basement to make sure all your weaponry was secured. 

…And by weaponry, you really only meant the small handgun you kept in a safe down there. You weren’t a super strong person by any means, so a handgun was probably your best suited weapon when it came to defending yourself. However, the handgun was only used as a last resort, so luckily you’ve never had to use it before on any of the previous Purges. Hopefully this year you won’t have to use it still.

You grabbed the handgun and made sure it was loaded before making your way upstairs. Due to being a member of the upper class, you had managed to reinforce your home with a special security system used for keeping your home safe during the Purge. Though it was only three hours before the Purge started, you weren’t taking any chances and activated it now. 

You watched as every door and window in your house became protected beneath a large metal shutter, turning on your security cameras so you could watch whatever was happening outside from the safety of your home. You nestled into the cozy chair of your desk and mentally prepared yourself for another twelve hours of manslaughter you would have to endure. 

You watched from your phone as the infamous warning for the Purge began to play. The alarm never failed to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up on end, the long list of rules flying over your screen as you peeked through your security cameras. So far, the only things you could see were a bunch of hooligans setting fire to a trashcan in some random alleyway. Okay, not bad. You expected a few arsonists in your neighborhood anyway…

You grabbed a bag of chips from your snack stash and opened it, continuing to watch as you stuffed your face with food like you were binging your favorite TV show. Though the Purge was a very scary time, it never directly harmed you through all the years you survived…

At least, you thought. 

For the next two hours, you simply watched in the comfort of your own bedroom while people in your neighborhood were being slaughtered left and right. You winced when you watched a poor victim get a machete to the face by some woman in a hockey mask. Oof…that’s unfortunate. You heard another scream from afar as another victim got stabbed repeatedly with a kitchen knife by a woman wearing a ghost mask. Hm���why did they look familiar? You wonder if you’ve seen them before… 

You took a sip from your drink and laid back, before nearly jumping out of your skin upon spotting a group of Purgers on your porch. Despite being masked, you could tell from their figures that they appeared to be women, with four of them in total all staring at you through the security camera. 

‘Oh…shit.’ You felt your heart sink as you waited for them to say something, anything. You hadn’t expected any Purgers to actually bother you tonight, as the most that Purgers would do is knock over your trash cans and maybe graffiti your garage door. 

One of the Purgers —a woman wearing a dove-themed mask— stepped forward and smiled at the camera. She raised a delicate hand, before ringing the doorbell and speaking into the camera. 

“Hellooooo~ Is this (Reader)’s residence?” She sang beautifully, toying with the ends of her hair. You tried to figure out her appearance to see if she was familiar to anyone you knew or talked to, but you don’t recall ever meeting a woman with black hair and bright pink streaks. 

You stayed quiet, hoping that they would just assume you couldn’t hear them and move on. This however, didn’t work as the group of women were persistent.

“Hellooooo~ I know the cutie is in there…” The dove-masked women cooed, ringing your doorbell again before one of the other Purgers got impatient. A taller, blonde woman wearing a moth-themed mask grumbled and raised her weapon, “It’s no use. Let’s just find a weak spot and break in.” 

“Nooo! That’s so barbaric, we must treat a woman gently.” 

“We are quite literally, purging her home.” Another woman chimed in, this time a short woman with beige-colored hair wearing a doll mask. 

“Yes, but I would like her to respond before we break in.” The dove-mask pouts. 

“Enough.” Finally, the fourth woman spoke up, her posture and height intimidating as she stepped to the front. This time it was a woman wearing a harlequin mask, her gaze piercing through the camera. “We know you are listening, (Reader). It isn’t polite to keep your guests waiting.” 

She smirked at the camera, as if edging you to press the call button and respond. You felt as if your blood was being drained from your body, a morbid feeling of death looming over you like a cloud. You had no choice, if you didn’t respond they would just try and break in anyway, so perhaps it would be wise to try and convince them not to? 

You did not think that was plausible, but Purgers were still human. Maybe they will be human just for you… 

“C-Can I help you?” Fuckkkkk you did not mean to sound like a timid fast food worker working at the Drive Thru. You mentally cursed yourself as you watched the other four women smile at your compliance.

“There’s her cute voice!” The dove-mask exclaimed excitedly. “I was worried some other Purgers may have gotten to you already…” 

“Can I help you?” You stated again firmly, wanting them to leave as soon as possible. “If you’re looking to rob my house, I’m afraid I don’t have anything of value.” 

“Oh…sweetheart,” the harlequin-mask chuckled, sliding her hand across the handle of her bloody ax. “You’re in there.” 

Oh great. Yeah why bother spending the Purge robbing stuff that is actually useful to you, when you can murder people instead. Genius. 

“…Okay, I know what you are implying, but I beg of you not to kill me! I promise that after the Purge is over I will compensate for you all somehow. Whether it’d be money or anything else you’d like, I’ll do it!”

“Open those ears of yours, girl. We want you, not your house.” The moth-mask tsked, a bit of annoyance present on the edge of her voice. “We are coming in whether you like it or not. As long as you are inside, we will get in too.” 

“…No need to be so mean, Signora.” You heard the dove-mask huff, folding her arms. “Just hold tight, baby. We’re coming to find you~”

You let out a small, panicked squeak of terror and cut the mic, standing up from your seat and making your way to your drawer to check on the handgun you had stashed away. You couldn’t believe that this was the year you would have to use it, and your adrenaline was pulsing like crazy. 

‘All loaded’ you mentally prepared yourself for the worst, taking deep breaths and walking back to your computer monitors that displayed the cameras. You let out another panicked squeak when you saw that the Purgers had left your front porch, now scattered around your property doing god knows what. 

“Why this year of all years?” You whined, keeping your handgun close to you as you kept looking through the monitors. Okay, okay, they were just circling your house, no biggie. Their weapons appeared to be of class 1 only, so it would be next to impossible for them to break down your security systems. 

Really, though you were on edge, you should be relatively safe so long as the power doesn’t—

Almost as if your fate was being toyed at the hands of a God, your lights suddenly went out and the sound of your metal shutters started coming up. Oh…you were fucked now.

‘…I am dead.’ You wanted to scream, but knew better as it was time for survival. It was every woman for herself, no beating around the bush. Logistically you weren’t sure if you could take out four Purgers on your own, but if you were going to die tonight you were going to die fighting ugly. 

You heard one of your windows shatter and flinched when you heard footsteps now roaming the downstairs of your house. Okay, you got this. You technically have an advantage as you have a firearm and they don’t know where you are, you should play this safe. 

You held your breath and stealthily made your way downstairs, holding the gun. You saw the broken window in your living room, swallowing thickly before looking around to see if there was anyone around. Your eyes suddenly landed on a bloody trail that looked as if a body had been dragged through your house. Did they just kill someone? 

You suddenly heard a thud behind you and whirled around quickly, only to accidentally let out a gasp when you saw the dead body of your neighbor just lying there on your kitchen floor. You managed to hold in a scream, but it was no use when you felt strong arms hold you from behind, a yell escaping your throat as you felt one of the Purgers’ grip on you.

“Mm…not a screamer…quite the silent one, aren’t you?” You heard a rough, raspy voice as the woman behind you grabbed your gun and tore it away with ease. Just how strong was she?! Your breath hitched when you felt the sharp end of a knife press against your throat, her voice humming with pleasure. “I like quiet girls.”

From your peripheral vision you saw that it was the Purger with the harlequin mask, her hair mostly white with a few streaks of black, yet another person you were not familiar with. Footsteps then entered the kitchen from the thick fog of darkness, a giggle leaving another one of the Purgers. 

“You caught her! Heh, I guess you won this one, Arle~!” It was the Purger with the dove-mask, her cute and feminine voice not matching her appearance at all as her white dress was covered in blood. “I want to pet her!” 

“Wash your hands, Columbina.” Another voice came, this time it was the doll-masked Purger who came walking out of the darkness. “I don’t want you getting blood all over her. She’ll stink.” 

“A little blood won’t hurt her, Sandrone.” 

You whimpered when the woman named “Columbina” walked closer to you, her sadistic smile present as she ran her fingers across your cheek. You would flinch away if not for the harlequin mask —you believe she was called Arle?— holding you in place, her muscles tightening around you and preventing you from squirming. 

“Ah…how cute!” Columbina cooed. “I almost feel bad for scaring her, she looks like she’s about to cry.”

“She looks prettier that way.” Came a deeper, more mature voice, as the moth-masked woman —Signora, if you remembered correctly— came into view. You gulped when Signora strutted over to you and took your chin in her hand, admiring you from behind her mask and turning your face to look at all your angles. “Loosen your grip a bit, Arlecchino. The girl looks like she’s about to pass out from blood circulation.” 

Arlecchino let out a titular hum. “And why would I do that? If I let her go, she can run off.” 

“Not with us here. We all can catch her quite easily.” Sandrone said matter-of-factly. 

“I suppose that wouldn’t hurt.” Arlecchino leaned down and whispered gravely into your ear. “I don’t recommend running, little one. All four of us can hunt you down quite easily, and if you ran out into the open during the Purge, well…”

She chuckled and playfully blew on your ear. “Someone else might get to you before us.” 

Your body involuntarily shivered and you felt the back of your ear grow hot. Upon seeing how much of an impact she had on you, Arlecchino smirked and carefully let go of you. 

You should run. In fact, you weren’t sure why you were staying in place surrounded by these murderous women. Every instinct and sense of logic in your brain was telling you to make a run for it, but another part of you knew that it was fruitless to even make it out of your house. 

“You know, you should be thanking us.” Signora said coldly. “Without us here, you probably would’ve been murdered by that neighbor of yours.” 

“Wh-What?”

“Oh! She speaks…” Columbina giggled. “Believe it or not, we found him messing around with some circuit box in your yard. Looks like he was the one who knocked out the power to kill you himself.”

Your eyes landed on the body of your neighbor laying on the floor. His eyes still wide open like he was stuck in time, lips parted like was in the middle of screaming before meeting his bloody demise. “Of course…we took care of him for you! Wouldn’t want our pretty girl to get hurt.”

Columbina smiled and kicked his body away like it was nothing, looking up at you like they had just done a great thing. You kept looking between the Purgers and the dead body of your neighbor, unable to cope with the fact that this would be the first Purge where you might end up like another body bag. 

“…Is this where I get killed now?” You laughed weakly, cold sweat dripping down your face. “I…I’m not sure what else to do at this point, get on my knees and beg for my life?”

“Ooh. I like the kneeling and begging part.” Sandrone comments bluntly. Meanwhile, the other women chuckle at your pathetic display, with Arlecchino pulling you towards her and murmuring in your ear. 

“Oh, we aren’t interested in hurting you. At least not that much.” She suddenly slid her hands up your stomach and towards your breasts, a gasp leaving your lips when she fondled them through your shirt. ”…Soft.” 

“Easy now, Arlecchino. She hasn’t accepted yet.” Signora hums, gently pulling Arle’s eager hands away from your chest. Arlecchino slips out a small growl of dissatisfaction, but pulls away anyway to comply with Signora’s requests. Despite how refined Arlecchino seemed to be, you could tell she was a woman of a lot of restraint, and she had been itching to feel you up despite her calm demeanor. 

“If it wasn’t obvious by Arlecchino’s…desires,” Signora comments, stroking your face, “We want your body, but not in the way that you think.” 

“You’re just so pretty…especially when your bottom lip wobbles in fear,” Columbina whispers. “How could we not want you this way?”

Oh…oh.

Now you know why they haven’t killed you yet. 

“Look at her face, all dumb and bewildered.” Sandrone comments, the faintest of grins appearing on her face as she took in your confused expression. 

“What do you say, let us have some fun with you?” Arlecchino purrs from behind, making you shiver in anticipation and a little bit of curiosity. 

“…I suppose.” You said softly, a little hesitant to agree. 

“Oh my, what a promiscuous thing she is,” Signora comments, a sly smile making its way to her lips. “Wanting to take all four of us at the same time, what a whore.” 

“Easy now, Signora. She can’t help how curious she is.” Columbina smiles, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm. “Arle~ Be a dear and carry the poor lamb upstairs. The dead guy is killing the mood.”

“Of course.” Arlecchino grinned wolfishly and took you in her arms, throwing you over her shoulder like it was nothing while going up the stairs. You could only watch helplessly as the three other women followed after you, smiling at how utterly pathetic you looked while being carried by Arlecchino with one arm. 

…You weren’t sure how you got up to this point. One moment you were almost pissing your pants in fear, and the next you were suddenly thrown into your bed and surrounded by four Purgers. All of them stared down at you with a look of pure joy in their eyes, practically ravishing you on the bed with just their gaze alone. 

Surprisingly, it was Sandrone that made the first move. For as quiet as she was, the woman crawled on top of you and grabbed your face for herself, pulling you into a kiss. 

“Oh my! I didn’t expect Sandrone to be so eager…” Columbina giggled. Meanwhile, in the corner of your eye; you could see Arlecchino unzipping her pants and Signora taking off her gloves. 

You couldn’t watch them for long, however; as Sandrone forcefully pushed you back and shoved her tongue down your mouth, turning the kiss into a more seductive dance of tongues. The doll-masked woman moaned at the taste of you, pulling you in closer to her as she aggressively pushed her hands up your shirt. 

“Mm…what a sloppy kisser. I could tell you’ve never had another woman in your mouth before.” Sandrone pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your tongue with hers. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix that for you.” 

“Arle, no need to be so impatient. She’s still on the bed.” You heard Signora gently scold Arlecchino and looked over to see what she was doing. The harlequin woman was gritting her teeth and tugging her trousers off as fast as she could, the base of a harness and what looked to be a crimson-colored strap peeking through the gap of her zipper. 

Oh…they were prepared for this. 

“Hey. Don’t look at her, look at me.” Sandrone sounded annoyed and gripped your face to look at her again, pulling you in for a kiss. 

“Pfft. Sandrone is getting jealous.” You felt the bed space behind you dip, and in the midst of making out with Sandrone, you felt Columbina’s lithe and petite body encircle yours. “Let’s see how good you taste.” 

Columbina’s lips latched onto the back of your neck, sucking and nibbling on your skin hard enough to leave a few bruises. The choked whimpers you let out made the dove-mask and doll-mask moan with pleasure, Sandrone pulling you more against herself while Columbina grinded her hips from behind. 

As Sandrone’s hands fondled your breasts under your shirt, you felt something small yet hard growing under Columbina’s dress. It was clear the two women were getting heavily turned on, with how Sandrone was starting to tug off your shirt and Columbina grinding faster against you. 

“Let’s put that sloppy tongue to use.” Sandrone comments bluntly, lowering you down against the bed as she raises her dress to pull off her panties. Columbina takes her position between your legs, pulling your pants off and eagerly wanting to stuff her face in your cunt. “No teeth now. Try to be a good girl.” Sandrone slides her panties off and spreads her legs over your awaiting mouth, using her fingers to give you quite the show of her sweet pussy glistening with juices. The doll-masked woman didn’t wait for another second and took her place at her rightful seat, letting you taste the sweet tang of her cunt smothering your lips. 

Meanwhile, Columbina was eagerly pulling your own panties down with her hands, her tongue —which was freakishly long— swiped at her bottom lip the moment she saw your bare entrance. “Mm…Gotta make sure you’re wet enough to take Arle’s strap.” She whispered, parting your legs gently –though her nails were digging into your thighs– and licking a long stripe across your clit. 

“Nnnh–!” You moaned into Sandrone’s own clit, causing her to buck her hips needily. “Fuck…her tongue feels so good.” 

“I can only imagine,” Columbina coos, smothering her face deeper and darting her hot tongue out quickly. Her hands trailed down to her dress and began lightly jerking herself off while she ate you out, moaning into your thighs as she ravished your insides. You hadn’t expected to be double teamed so easily, but you didn’t mind, eating out Sandrone and tasting her folds more thoroughly while Columbina masturbated to the taste of you. 

“Are you– mmppgh…guys ready?” Sandrone moans out sweetly, riding your face harder as she looks back at Arlecchino and Signora. Both women had stripped out of their festive Purger outfits, with Arlecchino wearing nothing but a thick, girthy strapon and Signora dressed in the prettiest lingerie you had ever seen. “Oh come on Signora, that’s– fuck, overkill for the Purge, isn’t it?” 

“The girl likes it.” Signora tuts, casting you a smirk beneath her mask. “Is she wet enough, Columbina?” 

“Nope!” Columbina pulls her head away from between your thighs, her face smeared in all your juices while your thighs are left a trembling mess. 

“Liar.”

“She needs to be wetter! Let me eat her out more!”

“Columbina.” Arlecchino finally makes her presence known, crawling over to the bed and pulling her hair back, forcefully pulling her away from your cunt. Columbina whined and gave Arlecchino a glare, not quite finished with eating you out yet. “Arle, I said she needed to be wetter.”

You couldn’t believe you had four women in your bed, all fighting for you during the Purge. You would voice your concerns if not for Sandrone still whining and grinding on your face so roughly. Though the woman was a small, seemingly gentle woman, it was obvious she was one of the more desperate ones of the group. 

“Suck on her tits or something. I want her tight cunt swallowing my strap.” Arlecchino growled, possessively stroking your thigh while Columbina huffed. “Fine.” She gave your inner thigh one last bite, causing you to jolt and accidentally make Sandrone come from the sudden movement. 

“Oh– nnngh!” Sandrone’s little legs trembled greatly, her orgasm washing over her as she ground her hips more firmly. The sweet, succulent taste of her cum washed down your throat, making your eyes flutter shut in how good Sandrone tasted. “Was her tongue game that good, Sandrone?” Columbina purred, suddenly taking an interest in your mouth. “Yeah, her movements are amateaur at best, but somehow feel really good?” 

“Heh, good enough for me.” Columbina proceeded to shove Sandrone off and take her place, dangling her small, yet very eager cock in front of your lips. “Let’s get those pretty lips sucking me off, hm?” She smiled and caressed your cheek before slipping her tip inside, watching with satisfaction as you took all of her length so easily. Meanwhile, Arlecchino and Signora were more occupied on your raw pussy, which was twitching with need after being neglected for too long. Signora cooed and pressed a teasing kiss to your clit, lightly blowing on it before rising to focus on your breasts. 

“Poor baby is feeling neglected up here, huh?” She teased, the blonde woman leaning in to lick a long stripe across your tits before latching one nipple in her mouth. She took pleasure in the way your back arched off the bed, the Fair Lady’s tongue swirling around hungrily as her fingers swirled around your clit. “Give me some lube, Arle. I want to finger her for a bit before you start.” 

You heard the sound of growl before Arlecchino reluctantly obliged. “Make it quick, I want to fold her into the mattress myself.” She gave Signora a bottle of lube and you could only moan when you felt the Fair Lady’s cold fingers circle your entrance with a slimy substance coating them. When you moaned however, you choked on Columbina’s cock, causing her to groan and buck her hips. “Goodness her throat is…quite tight.”

Signora chuckled at that and pressed her fingers deeper into your entrance, watching with great pleasure as they sunk in with little to no resistance. “And quite wet. You did a good job of loosening her up, Columbina.” Signora proceeded to finger you to see just how far you could take her. Her fingers –which were very long and thin– stretching you out and brushing up against all your tender spots to see which ones would make you squirm. 

As this was happening, you felt Columbina’s tiny cock start twitching in your mouth, signaling that she was getting close. Unable to keep your moans to yourself, you stifled a small whine and traced the underside of her shaft with your tongue, watching as her face made all sorts of lewd expressions. “Oh f-fu– I’m gonna come…” she whimpered, riding your face faster before shooting a hot load down your throat and throwing her head back. 

“Oh? What a good girl, making two of us orgasm already.” Signora hummed, pulling her fingers out and licking them clean. “I guess it’s time to get to the main event now.” 

Columbina tiredly got off you and went to join Sandrone, who was lying blissfully on the bed and watching how you took the final two women. The taste of sex and cum lingered on the back of your tongue, yet you were now hooked. You gazed at Arlecchino who had been waiting impatiently at the foot of the bed, stroking her fat strap and making sure you saw. 

“Hold her down, Signora.” Arlecchino commanded, watching as you were manhandled to switch positions. No longer were you lying flat on your back, as you were now sat up against Signora with her chest against your back, bare breasts and stomach pressed against your skin and making you shiver. “Such a good girl, letting us manhandle you as we please…” Signora’s deep, husky voice whispered in your ear, her hands making their way down to your thighs and keeping them spread for Arlecchino. “Have fun with her, Arle.” 

Arlecchino didn’t need to be told twice. She crawled on top of you and angled her strap to brush against your entrance. Her eyes narrowed as she saw how needy your pussy was after going through three women, seeing how twitchy and puffy it was. “You three really did a number on her.” She mumbled, brushing the tip of her strap between your folds. When you trembled and let out a gasp at the feeling, both Arle and Signora smirked, with Signora trailing her hands down to pull your folds apart. 

“Do your worst. She wants it.” 

Arlecchino grinned and sandwiched you against Signora, slowly pushing her strap into you and watching as you were speared open on her faux cock. “Fuck– she’s tight still…” She grumbled, enjoying the way your pussy gripped the silicone so roughly. 

“Well you did buy a girthy one.” Sandrone says matter-of-factly. 

“I know, but she seems to enjoy it anyways.” Arlecchino laughed wolfishly and continued to spear you open while your cunt struggled to accommodate her girth. You had never felt so full before when taking a toy, letting out sweet whimpers as the smallest beads of tears formed at your lashes. 

“Oh, don’t cry…” Signora hummed behind you, licking your tears away. “It’ll feel so good soon~”

The harlequin let out a grunt as she pushed her hips further, watching as her strap finally nestled itself comfortably inside you. She could see the slightest bit of arousal pool at the base of her strap, and that only spurred her on more, starting to thrust at a shallow pace. You threw your head back against Signora’s shoulder, feeling her soft lips press kisses on your tear-dotted face. Arlecchino was just so deep, filling your insides on just her girth alone while she thrusted. 

“My…what a peculiar sight.” Arlecchino chuckled, her eyes filled with pure desire as she saw you trembling beneath her. Your legs pathetically squirming yet being held down, clearly overstimulated now that you had to go through the fourth Purger. 

“I haven’t even bottomed out yet.” She smiled wickedly, pinning you in place while she nearly folded you in half. If not for Signora sitting there behind you, you were sure she would have pushed you into a full on mating press into the mattress. “Hold her tighter, I’m going all in.” 

Every woman in the room watched with interest as Arlecchino took a deep breath and slowly inched herself deeper until your cunt hit her harness. With each inch, you felt a loud whine rip through you, the fat tip of Arle’s strap pushing against your walls and forming a slight belly bulge. “Oh my…” Signora’s eyes glazed over with lust, trailing her hand up to rest atop the bulge. “Look how deep you are in her, Arle.” 

“How cuteee!” Columbina cooed. “I wanna give her a belly bulge too!”

“Maybe another time. The poor girl looks as if she’ll pass out after this round.” 

All four women leered at you hungrily before Arlecchino pulled out and slammed back in. They took great pleasure in watching Arle ravage your insides, wet smacks filling the air as your expressions formed into even lewder ones. Signora looked the most ecstatic, her hand gently pushing down on the bulge each time Arle bottomed out and thrusted back into you. 

The extra force of Signora pushing down on your stomach and Arlecchino fucking you like an animal was almost too much to handle. Each punctuated thrust of Arlecchino’s hips made your poor body bounce rather weakly, your legs scrambling to pull away from Signora’s grip and latch around the harlequin’s waist. 

“She’s getting close. I can feel it…” Arlecchino growled, craving to see your cum form a ring around her base. “Come for me…I know you can do it.” 

She held onto your ankle and gave it a small kiss, looking down at you as you writhed around like a worm. The way your leg twitched and the tears trailed down your face was enough to make all the girls swoon over you harder. You were just too cute, they were glad they broke in to get you. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you felt your pussy tense up before cumming all over Arlecchino’s strap. The harlequin groaned at the sight and started thrusting even faster, going feral at the sight of your cum drenching her faux cock and helping you ride out your orgasm. The other woman in the room giggled at the sight of you reduced to a whining, babbling mess, Arlecchino finally pulling out and admiring how soaked you made her strap. 

“Goddamn…” she grunted, dropping your legs to the bed and watching as you collapsed against Signora, too tired to even keep your eyes open. 

“Look at her, barely able to stay awake.” Sandrone comments, gently massaging one of your thighs. “We really did a number on her.” 

“Awww, I really wanted to fuck her too.” Columbina pouts, tracing the hickies and bite marks the women left on your body.

“Maybe when she wakes up. For now, let’s let the poor girl rest.” Signora gently caressed your cheek and gave you a small kiss. “Close your eyes, little one. We will keep you safe throughout the rest of the Purge.” 

Arlecchino crawls up to join you by your side, pulling you against her while all the other women adjust to snuggle around you, essentially turning this into one big cuddle pile. “Rest well,” Arlecchino whispers huskily, your eyes growing heavier as you bask in the embrace of the four Purgers who broke into your home, yet showed you the best way to celebrate the gory holiday.

“Happy Purge.” 

[bumbercar]

We love Arle and Signora but damn to be tagteamed by Sandrone AND Columbina sounds like heaven but also sounds like I won't be able to walk after one round

-🪻

I wanted to give the short Harbingers a chance to dom you <3

Imagine being manhandled by Sandrone and Columbina, being made to crawl around on all fours, having your leash (courtesy of Sandrone) tugged this way and that by these two who want your attention. I think Signora and Arlecchino would be surprised to see just how sadistic these two women can be, especially Sandrone considering she is the quietest one out of the four. Who knows what goes on in that puppeteer’s head 😳

Also, imagine being dressed up by Sandrone and Columbina. They seem like the type to make you wear embarrassingly short dresses that make you shiver in the cold winds of Snezhnaya. Since you’re practically wearing nothing, the Harbinger ladies have to be with you at all times to hide you away in their coats…

[bumbercar]

🎃 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲'𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 🎃

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐰𝐥𝐰 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝐫𝐝: 𝐤𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐦𝐢 𝐝𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐚

🍷 notes of: kitty ears, claws, whiskers, pointy teeth, fluffy tails, breeding, and being her purrfect companion 🐾

𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡: 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐯𝐮𝐢𝐤𝐚

🍸 with hints of: worship, size difference, power play, see-through silks, and being her favorite little plaything 🪷

𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟕𝐭𝐡: 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐚

🥂 with aromas of: sharp smiles, luring melodies, kidnapping, obsession, oviposition, and being her sweet little mate 🎼

𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟒𝐭𝐡: 𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐧𝐠

🍾 with a side of: seduction, biting, leashes, heel-grinding, blood, and being her obedient pet 🩸

𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟏𝐬𝐭: 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐨

🥃 a flavor profile of: stalking, breeding, petplay, collars, arachnophobia, and being her favorite, frightened little human 🕷

[bumbercar]

hii could i please request some fluffy general relationship headcanons for mavuika with a female reader please? (sfw + nsfw if that's okay!) thank you!

MAVUIKA BRAINROT IS REAL!!!!! I need more lore on her fr she is literally the only Natlan character I find interesting😞

pairing: Mavuika x fem!reader

cw: fluff, strap-on, mentions of sesbian lex

I REALLY wrote down anything that came to mind, if I get more ideas throughout the next days/weeks I will make a part two! Hope you like it anon <3

NSFW utc, MDNI!

SO HELP MEEEEEEE Mavuika with a gf or wife- I don’t think she is the possessive type at all BUT has no shame in kissing you publicly in front of like god knows how many people.

Very attentive to you, notices immediately when something seems off to her for example when you‘re in a bad mood, about to get sick or are just struggling in general. Expect her to pamper you.

Your birthday is actually a holiday. Yes. She made your birthday a national holiday in Natlan. It‘s literally impossible to forget it now.

She actually gives you a lot of say in archon matters, for example when it comes to dealing with the fatui or organizing the next pilgrimage. She trusts you to the moon and back and you taking off some weight from her shoulders means like- the world to her. She‘ll make sure to „thank“ you properly of course <3

PRAY if she ever puts on that strap tho. Did you see how she fights? Now imagine her channeling that same energy into bed. Legs thrown over her shoulders. Arms pinned down to the mattress as she thrusts her hips forward into you while ringing one orgasm after the other out of you

I hc her to have tons of tattoos grazing the skin underneath her suit. A few of them being dedicated to you. Your name decorating her chest, right over her heart. Your birthday on her waist. Your favorite flowers on her back. The anniversary/wedding date of the two of you right above her v-line.

LOVES to feel your tongue lapping up and down over her sensitive clit as she has you kneeling down under the cover of her desk. Fingers getting a good grip on your hair as she presses you further into her, telling you how much of a good girl you are, how good you’re swallowing her liquor up, only to have you sit down in her lap (after she came all over your pretty mouth) with her fingers buried all the way to the knuckles inside your cunt. Office sex is a weekly occurrence for the both of you.

Shameless starer. Coming into her office wearing nothing but one of her shirts? She doesn’t even try to hide how her eyes immediately find your nipples poking through underneath the fabric. Wearing something that highlights your curves? She even tells you to spin around with a lil‘ twirl motion of her finger. Why should ever feel ashamed for looking at what’s hers?

Just MAYBE names a whole river or sea after you. Just because she feels like it. One day you wake up and she‘s like „Heeeeey, darling… you know about that one nameless river nearby the tribe of scions…?“, you maybe sobbed a little.

Is actually not THAT talented when it comes to doing her hair, something always just goes wrong. One day it’s the hairband snapping. Then she struggles with finding a good hairstyle for her long, voluminous hair until you decide to step in. Gently grabbing the brush out of her clenched fingers and placing a kiss on top of her head before your run it through her messy bed-hair as you maybe tell her what you have planned for the day, etc.

After a hard day, maybe she‘ll ask you to strap up every once in a while. Every hard working woman needs her wife to pound some sense back into her, no?

Not that much of a big fan when it comes to degrading or any other harsh kinks but praising? Talking you through it as she pushes the silicone into your spent pussy? Having you maintain eye contact? Maybe fingerfucking you in the dead of the night on her throne in her stadium???

LOTS of physical contact. Her hands always grabbing onto whatever curve she can get a hold of. Lips trailing up and down your collarbone and neck SO HELP THIS WOMAN.

A morning person through and through. As soon as the sun rises she is out and about and can’t stay up past 10pm for the love of it. (You sometimes found her dead asleep on her desk after filling out paperwork)

Actually highly dislikes coffee but smoothies on the other side…… if something ever happens to go wrong, just make her a smoothie and it’s all forgotten.

Can lift you up with less than one arm. No matter what. The way she swings around her claymore like a toothpick? You’re lightweight compared to that. (I have a thing for muscled women if you can’t tell already)

[bumbercar]

What about some vampire king arlecchino where she drinks blood-wine and keeps reader on her lap like a pet 😋

ӄɨռӄȶօɮɛʀ աɛɛӄ 1

[scheduled post]

Thank you for kickstarting my kinktober <3 I took the idea and ran with it but I’m actually quite happy with how it turned out, and I hope everyone else is too <3

Word count: 1.8k

Contents: fingering, vampire!arlecchino x human fem!reader

Nsft utc!

Arlecchino, a vampire so powerful that she terrifies both vampires and humans alike. Rumour has it that she once killed a man just by appearing next to him and whispering. She’s hauntingly terrifying, and somehow, the most beautiful creature you’ve ever set your eyes on. You can’t trick yourself into thinking that she doesn’t horrify you, that something about her chills you to the bone and makes you almost pray she has mercy on you when she decides to kill you. Arlecchino seems to have taken a liking to you, however.

Watching you from afar each night, only appearing at your door after the clock strikes midnight, you noticed quickly that she was quite a persistent woman thing when she decided to be. At first, you ignored the knocking on the wood of your door (the only thing that separated you and her). When you refused to answer (for you knew you would meet your end the second you stared into those soulless eyes), she began speaking. Pleading, almost. “Let me in,” her voice, barely a whisper, had reached you even through the headphones you had on in an attempt to drown her out. You wondered if the powers she was rumoured to possess were, in fact, true.

You’d like to say you withstood it. That you were able to wait until she had gotten bored, and that you were not like the others. The others. What became of them, once she was finished? Were they, perhaps, the other vampires you knew roamed about the land? Or, had they become nothing more than bones buried in soil, waiting to be discovered by some aspiring archaeologist in decades to come? Nobody knew. Nobody wanted to.

Alas, you did not withstand it. After a few months of her lurking by your door, you made the grand mistake of opening it. Immediately, your eyes moved to the floor. If there was one thing you, and everyone else knew, was that it was incredibly unwise to look into her eyes. They were not normal eyes. They did not have an iris, or a pupil. They were black holes with crosses the colour of spilled blood. Something that seemed so simple, and yet, you have known of people who looked, and were left so scared they could no longer speak.

“May I enter? Your home looks ravishing.” Her voice was a drawl, one that pierced whatever guard you were attempting to put up. You opened your mouth, nothing came.

“Look at me.” You realised by then that the rumours about whatever powers she could possess were true, for you, despite your screaming mind and attempts to stay looking down, found your eyes travelling up her frame. Arlecchino was taller than you realised, and her heels certainly didn’t help. Her suit, somehow a pristine white (how odd for a bloodthirsty vampire), contrasted against the inky black in her hair. “May I enter?”

Your head unwillingly found itself nodding, but clearly, that wasn’t enough, for she demanded once more. “Say it.”

“..you can come in.” You muttered. From then, she would visit you quite often, and you would come home to find her casually sitting at your dining table. You grew quite attached to her, though you detested admitting it. When you learned that she would not leave you alone, you found yourself appeasing her, stocking up on candles she enjoyed, playing her favourite songs quietly. You both grew close, in all honesty, and you understood that the night she made your head fall back in pleasure and your voice break from the countless moans you let out. Something about her made your heart beat faster and your breathing heavier. (Was it fear or arousal? Did the fear somehow arouse you more? You refused to explore that train of thought because you knew the answer)

One October night, you come home after work only to find her there once again. Not a surprise anymore, you think, you almost knew she’d be there. On the nights where the air is bitter and there are no stars in the sky, she opts to spend her time with you. You offer a small hum of acknowledgment, but don’t look at her. You try not to look at her, ever.

“Come here.” Arlecchino’s voice carries through your small apartment, the familiar thrum of her fingers tapping on the table. When your eyes move to the table, you notice a wine glass. One of yours, you’re aware, but you didn’t own any wine. The cogs begin to turn as you take a few steps closer.

Her hand, blackened with patterns you can’t help but secretly admire, pats her knee, the soft sound of the fabric reaching your ears. You abide, once again, swallowing as you perch there, your body tense. One hand wraps around your waist, and with strength, too much strength, pulls you closer. Her body, which one would expect to be cold, is burning hot, and as much as you hate doing so, your body instinctively leans into it. The room is cold, and she seems to hum when she feels you rest your body weight onto her. Your jaw tenses when you begin to question if you’re even scared of her anymore.

Until, that is, she sips the wine in the glass she so graciously stole from you. Wine. ‘Wine’. It feels like ice shoots through your veins when you smell the familiar metallic smell of blood, the one that seems to always coat her skin just faintly. It is then that you realise she isn’t drinking wine at all, but blood. Fresh blood, even. You feel sick until her voice cuts through your mind.

“I can hear that heart of yours. Scared, hm?” The words are almost teasing, and somehow, it almost seems like she cares. You shudder when her breath (and her fang) grazes your skin as she speaks. You cannot decide if you want to stay or run. You are horrified.

“That isn’t wine.”

“No, it isn’t. I never said it was, you assumed.” Arlecchino murmurs, moving to begin placing gentle kisses along the skin of your neck, causing your eyes to flutter closed. In times like these, you forget she isn’t human anymore.

“I should have known you were like every other vampire.” You whisper, mostly to yourself. Even so, you allow your head to tilt to give her better access. Your mind is slightly fuzzy, but you hear her place the glass on the table, and you feel the way her hands are sliding under your shirt. You let her. You like it.

“I’m not like every other vampire,” she protests quietly, but the words are full of amusement and mockery. “I’m worse.” Her words are punctuated by a small bite on your earlobe, one that causes you to moan yelp. The creature woman almost chortles at your moan, and chooses to push away your bra roughly. She cups your breast like her hands were made to do so, and suddenly she isn’t so gentle. She presses hot, open mouthed kisses onto your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, whatever skin she can access. Your arms circle her shoulders, and your hands weave into the snowy strands of her ponytail. When she gets this way, you always wonder whether she’s going to eat you, or, well, eat you.

Slender fingers fumble with the buttons of your jeans for a few seconds before she gets irritated, muttering a low curse before using those sharp, sharp nails to just rip the fabric. She lets out a noise of satisfaction when she hears the seams rip and you gasp. Without even thinking, you let your thighs spread, and she hums in approval.

“Good. Keep them like that, or else.”

“Or else, what?” You breathe, but the only reply you get is her fangs digging into your skin just slightly. You let out a breathy sigh, relishing each time her lips move against your skin, each time the tip of her fangs touch your skin, threatening, but never acting. (You’re unsure if she ever would bite you) (on certain evenings with her, you almost wish she would so you could spend your life with her)

“Please,” you murmur, and it seems that tonight, she is merciful, for her fingers move between your folds, a low chuckle coming from her throat.

“Excited, are we?” Arlecchino dons a wicked grin that only grows when she pushes said fingers into you, eliciting a cry of pleasure from you. She starts slowly, letting you adjust, but after only a few movements, your body is asking for more, hips twitching in an attempt to get her to hit that spot.

She does as you want her to, again, and again until each breath of yours comes out as a groan, a moan or a whimper. Your hands grip onto her suit like it’s a lifeline, your eyes are squeezed shut.

“I could bite you now,” she murmurs, clearly excited by even the thought of it. Clearly, you are too, by the sound you make and your heart beats faster. “I like you too much to do that, my plaything, but the thought is good, no?”

Each thrust of her fingers brings you closer and she’s very, very aware of that. You are, too. Your hips are essentially riding her fingers at this point, and she lets you. “I have heard that blood tastes the best when one orgasms. Should we try? I think yours would taste the sweetest.”

Those words alone seem to send you over the edge, because with a final whine, your breath stops for a second and you see stars. “Fuck—“ your swearing is so loud that it echoes the room, and Arlecchino knows that for as long as she exists, she will remember the sound of it, even after you are long gone (unless she can gather the courage to turn you one day. She can’t fathom the idea that she turns you and one day you despise her, that she’ll have to walk around with that knowledge).

Sliding her fingers out of you with a slick pop, her tongue darts out, wetting her lips before resting her fingers on her tongue. She moans at the taste of it, she believes it’s better than any blood she could ever taste. Arlecchino used to tell herself that she’d get what she wanted and leave you for the rest of the night, but these days, she’s been staying much longer than she should be. So, when you end up talking asleep on her, she lets you, even choosing to stroke your hair and trace circles against the pulse point in your neck with one hand, her other now holding the wine glass again. She thinks absentmindedly for a long time, swirling the wine in her glass.

By the time you awaken, you’re in your bed, blankets tucked around your body, the apartment’s heating on medium, and her lipstick marking the pulse points of your wrist and your neck.

[bumbercar]

if you really wanted to fuck her armpit you wouldn't need to draw it like a pussy

[bumbercar]

🎃 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲'𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 🎃

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐰𝐥𝐰 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝐫𝐝: 𝐤𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐦𝐢 𝐝𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐚

🍷 notes of: kitty ears, claws, whiskers, pointy teeth, fluffy tails, breeding, and being her purrfect companion 🐾

𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡: 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐯𝐮𝐢𝐤𝐚

🍸 with hints of: worship, size difference, power play, see-through silks, and being her favorite little plaything 🪷

𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟕𝐭𝐡: 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐚

🥂 with aromas of: sharp smiles, luring melodies, kidnapping, obsession, oviposition, and being her sweet little mate 🎼

𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟒𝐭𝐡: 𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐧𝐠

🍾 with a side of: seduction, biting, leashes, heel-grinding, blood, and being her obedient pet 🩸

𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟏𝐬𝐭: 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐨

🥃 a flavor profile of: stalking, breeding, petplay, collars, arachnophobia, and being her favorite, frightened little human 🕷

[bumbercar]

once upon an april day

Pairing: Beast!Arlecchino x fem!Reader

Word Count: ~3500

Warnings: Beast described as grotesque, mentions of death, grave robbing, and allusions to necrophagia.

(A/N): Had some ideas on what a beauty and the beast-esque story with Arlecchino might look like. These are just ideas, barely coherent and not well-developed. Listened to Wicked Game by Chris Isaak and thought of a malformed, unloved thing stumbling into something bigger than itself.

Summary: Each summer, the beast takes a young woman for company.

In April, a red cross greets you when you wake.

From frame to porch, the village elders have drawn two red stripes onto your house, marking you for this year's harvest.

You run a finger across the red. Two. Then, your entire hand, rubbing away what little you can.

The colour stays.

It sticks to your door. Remains on your porch. Clings to your hand, and to the skin beneath your nails.

And in the early drags of summer, the beast comes for you.

Its heavy gait rouses you from restless slumber, long, dark claws scratching against wood and stone as the hulking, hunched thing prowls towards your house.

The noise is jarring; everyone who hears it bolts their doors and dims their lights.

Only you remain, a spot of red still on your thumb.

You watch it through the window; see the long, deformed snout rise and turn this way and that before a massive paw settles on the first step of your porch. The beast lingers for a moment. Then, a second paw joins the first, and the thing all but hauls itself towards the entrance in one sharp forward motion.

A crooked black claw scratches against the still-red frame, and you obediently twist the handle to open the door.

It looks so much bigger up close.

The beast cranes its long neck to look at you, head twisting to the left with an ease that makes you think it boneless. Its snout is close enough to touch, two round red compound eyes unblinking as they stare you down.

"Your Lordship," you greet it quietly.

The beast's head tilts to the right, to where the cross remains painted on your open door. Again, it raises a claw, dragging it past you to tap against the red. Tap. Tap.

"The elders chose me, yes," you affirm, lowering your head. The beast does in kind.

Beady eyes meet yours from below, the thing's neck contorted unnaturally, a would-be cheek pressed to the wooden planks of your porch. It seems intent to keep your gaze, lumpish muscles jumping beneath strange, thick fur when you finally give it such satisfaction.

"A year."

You all but startle when it speaks. Nobody had ever told you that it could.

"A year," you repeat, aware of the village's agreement with the disfigured Lord.

The beast makes a low sound somewhere in the back of its throat. Then, it opens its maw again, rows of sharp teeth glinting. "Come." It rasps, tone low, warped, and overlapping with some strange sort of hum. "Come," it repeats, though no more firm.

Silently, you follow.

The Lord Knave's castle is as tall and as dark as the beast itself. Old brick whines underfoot when the misshapen thing crosses the bridge and stalks up the stairs leading to the entrance.

It flings the large doors open with startling ease, heavy wood slamming against stone walls.

The beast slows inside the foyer. Then, settling on its haunches, it turns to you. It seems to regard you for a moment, your reflection visible in each of its ommatidia before it nudges its neck closer still, until its snout all but touches your nose.

In the warm light of the candles, the tiny simple eyes at the very edges of its face appear almost black, while the ones closest to the centre glow a turbid red.

It is there your reflection shines the brightest.

It is there the beast intends to keep you.

The longer you stare, the more the Lord Knave strikes you as a loveless mess of bone and sinew. A creature stitched rather than born.

Years ago, when the village elders first met the towering Lord of the land, they dared to describe it as wolf-like. And certainly, you see the resemblance. A large, powerful body, covered in thick black fur. Four legs and two perked dark ears. A tail and a big snout. Claws and paws and teeth. All things that greet you when you regard the beast.

But its eyes are like that of an insect. And the closer you look, the shinier its humpback seems, as though protected by some sort of shell.

(It rattles softly whenever the beast breathes. It makes your skin crawl.)

The thing continues staring, and you stare right back. And for a long moment, that is all you do.

Then, the creature shifts, neck angling back, head turning from yours. Its curiosity seems suddenly sated, though whether it likes what it saw remains unclear.

For a moment, you do not know what would be worse. The creature's satisfaction or its ire.

And, in truth, you doubt it matters either way. No young woman has ever returned from this castle alive.

The screeching of a black claw against dusty white marble startles you back to awareness. You flinch at the noise, and the beast makes a sound as though amused before it raises that same claw towards a flight of stairs.

That is the last you see of it for weeks.

Properly, at least.

At night, hidden inside the oily darkness, the creature skulks around the castle grounds. Always a little too loud. Always rattling. Restless.

Sometimes, almost agonized.

You think the warmth is doing it under, that towering, tumorous thing. Think that the same heat that's making the fabric of your clothes cling to your sweat-soaked back might very well be boiling it alive.

Maybe that is why the beast is so loud sometimes.

Why it scratches and claws and bites at its shell like some angry, flea-ridden mutt.

Why, occasionally, when the midday sun is hanging high, it whimpers and groans, voice almost human.

"My Lord...?" You approach quietly, but the beast startles all the same.

You do not understand, not entirely, anyway. You saw its ears twitch and flatten the moment your hand met the railing all the way across the hall. It heard you—knew you would come long before you did.

And yet, the beast flinched still.

Perhaps, it is the fact of your presence that caused its fright, not the suddenness of it. You consider the thought as you step closer, waiting for the beast to raise its head.

"Hot, isn't it?" You try, voice unexpectedly soft, skin clammy.

The beast does not speak. It hasn't done so in weeks, not since it first brought you here, but its eyes find your form—a hundred tiny yous staring back at you in its red, webbed eyes.

"You must be hot," you continue, still soft. "With all that fur..." you trail off.

The beast inclines its head. Then, as though stung, suddenly twists and snaps its jaw at its back. Unable to catch its own skin with its teeth, it raises a back leg, long claws scratching where its maw failed to gnaw.

"Does it itch?" You ask, stubbing the toe of your shoe against the floor when the creature remains silent. Part of you feels stupid for asking, and stupider still when the beast halts its motions and inclines its head again as though to question your intelligence.

"Right..." you murmur, settling on one of the many couches in the great chamber.

Finally, the creature lowers back onto the ground, stretching out onto the cool marble with a rattling sigh. Its lumpish muscles writhe beneath dense fur and greyish flesh, shell clattering gently.

You still hate that sound, and, briefly, you wonder whether this is how all the women before you have felt. Whether they hated this sound, too. The sound and the scratching and the Lord Knave. That twisted, wrong thing.

What has it done to them? You wonder. The dozens of women that were meant to return after serving it for a year. What did it have them do?

What will it make you do?

Beside you, the Lord Knave has curled into a ball, hard shell turned to you. Its claws have made deep lacerations in the plating, and its skin twitches as though itching still.

"Scratch." It rasps out, voice low and as layered as it's always been.

Your hand wanders before your mind catches up. Coarse fur greets your fingertips, matted in spots and all too filthy. And yet, you don't draw back, keeping your hand settled below one hard plate, fingers scratching into the thick strands.

"You have some grey in your fur..." you murmur, a fire's warmth and strength beneath your palm.

The beast does not reply. Its pulse thunders like the wings of a hummingbird.

Days drag like this. Slow and lonely.

The beast spends the endless warmth of summer in shadows and slumber. When awake, it does not speak more than a few words at a time, as though the act itself requires effort, and you do not ask it to, finding its voice unpleasant.

(The hum that wraps around each syllable is low enough to skitter along your bones. And, sometimes, you think it cracking, almost feminine. You do not like the images your mind conjures up at the thought.)

Eventually, however, your boredom makes you restless.

So, during the day, you explore and clean the castle, finding fur and rags and dust. Broken furniture and bones—splintered and bent and far too small for whatever they'd been asked to hold. Finally, beneath a moth-eaten, yellowed cloth—a painting of the young lady of the castle.

You falter.

Almost two decades have passed since anyone's last seen her. Two decades since the strange, crooked creature has taken residence in the castle and started prowling the lands.

(Lord Knave, it told you all to call it, when the winter was harsh and the village could not bear to lose another soul. Seal unto this bond, it said. I will be merciful. How many have disappeared since then?)

You touch the dusty frame, the beast's beady eyes on you.

It's been following you around as of late, a looming shadow that swallows yours.

"Pretty?" It warbles.

"Very." You agree, raising a small rag to brush away the cobwebs and layers of dust. "Do you not think so?"

"I used to," it says. One by one, the small, strange eyes stop reflecting the painted image. "Those were her bones you burned last week."

This time, it is you who does not reply.

In autumn, you find that your attempts at cleanliness have been for naught. Tufts of dark fur line the halls at any given time, the furniture and all your clothes sporting stray hairs no matter how often you remove them.

"Is this..." you pause, pointing to a basket's worth of fur in the corner, "...normal?"

"It is autumn, is it not?" The creature asks, unblinking eyes drowsy from the hearth's heat.

"Yes." You agree. And tilting your head, "So...you shed every autumn?" Like a dog, you want to add but decide against it. The beast seems to understand you all the same, a low, displeased sound bubbling up in its throat.

"I do not enjoy pointless questions."

"...those words would hold weight if there was anything you did enjoy," you sigh, picking up the tufts to throw them into the fire. The hair sizzles away in a heartbeat.

It reeks horribly.

Another deep rumble escapes the creature, its shell clattering in irritation. "Foolish woman," it chides, burrowing its snout between its paws. "Foolish, foolish woman."

"Uncombed beast," you shoot back, scowling. Whether it's in anger or disgust, the creature cannot tell. "Uncombed, unbathed beast."

It springs to its full height at that, glowering and towering over your sitting form. The plates on its back make loud, horrid sounds, cracking and crunching against each other in the creature's agitation.

For a moment, you fear it might strike you. The thing must see it too, for the next moment it snarls and falls back onto its paws before lurching out of the great hall.

You blink at the empty space it left behind, pick up another tuft of hair from the floor, and—before you can do something foolish like throw it to the flames like you had done the others—watch the beast return on three of its four legs.

Cradled in the clawed paw of the fourth, you find a small, old comb, which the creature promptly throws at you.

You dodge the projectile, hissing. "Rude beast."

"Comb," it huffs, slumping near the couch.

You take the comb, momentarily consider poking one of its big, beady eyes with it out of protest, then stand. On your tippy-toes and none too gently, you comb the creature's fur, nose crinkling at the growing pile of it collecting on the floor.

All the while, the Lord Knave's sharp, searching gaze remains on your hands, as though patiently awaiting the moment you fashion the flimsy comb into a weapon to strike it down with.

No such attack comes, and the brutish thing stills on the floor. The peevish rattling of its shell quietens, replaced by the lazy thumping of its tail.

Soon, the curious creature—made docile by the gentle crackling of the hearth's fire at its back and the repetitive motions of the comb—succumbs to sleep.

Graves line the backyard of the castle. Rows upon rows of once great lords and ladies of the land.

You think they speak to you sometimes. Or one of them, at least. A woman's voice keeps you up at night. Hoarse. Wrecked. As though it screamed itself raw in its last moments on earth.

Girl, it calls to you.

Sweet girl, it beckons. Come. Why won't you come? Leave the monster. Leave the beast. Leave like the others have.

For a long while, you think you might be going insane.

The beast seems to notice your unease, for it starts prowling the graveyard at night.

When it finds what it is looking for, it tells you to lock the windows in your room up tight and close the curtains before you go to sleep.

You do.

The voice does not speak to you again.

Still, you cannot sleep.

(No window is thick enough to block out the noise of the creature's relentless digging and that horrible, horrible crunch of brick and bone between its teeth. The name Crucabena remains barely legible on the broken tombstone that it left behind. If you were to ask, the Lord Knave would tell you that the old witch tasted of the rot that took her heart and grave.)

(It will upset the creature's stomach, that ugly, cloying rot. You will be there to soothe its tremors and quiet its wretched wailing.)

It looks at you oddly sometimes, that bewildering thing.

Like last week, when you washed the vegetables for dinner while it sat with its head on the counter, the reflection of your hands in its eyes.

Like yesterday, too, when you stood soaking up the last rays of autumn's sunlight while it sat silently in the shade.

And just now, while you're dozing off to its familiar rattling and oozing warmth. It yawns and cranes its neck to face you, looking at you as it always does in the mornings; in the evenings; at night.

You think it yearns for something, that massive clump of heat. Your strange Lord Knave.

And, drowsy as you are, you think it most human just then.

But for now, you doze. And the beastly lord stays and clatters as it always had.

In winter, the beast loses its shell.

It started with a single, old plate.

The creature had joined you in the great hall late in the evening, sated and slow, presenting its hard carapace to you as it had done many times before. You barely looked up from the book you were reading, hand gliding beneath a segment to scratch into the ever-irritated skin.

"Read," the beast told you, languidly stretching out its paws. The rippled, grey matter of its body rolled beneath your fingers, strange muscles clumped together and terribly warm.

"Do you have no manners?"

"No."

"You are difficult."

"You make me so." The Lord Knave said. The heat of its flesh had metastasized to its vocal cords some time ago. Now, its words were warped with tenderness that rendered them barely loud enough to hear.

You never quite knew what to do with that. With that strange, warm sound. But you read, and your fingers continued rubbing below the hardened segment closest to you.

By the time you finished the chapter, the lord beast had all but curled into itself, ears lazily slanted towards the sound of your voice. It did not react when you moved to withdraw your hand, webbed eyes clouded with exhaustion and a mellow rumble sitting deep in the cavity of its chest.

You had focused on that odd sound, on the way you felt it in your bones much more than you heard it, so much so that you did not notice when your sleeve snagged on the rough plating of the creature's back. You tried to free the fabric gently at first, then tugged when it did not budge, until finally the Lord Knave noticed your struggle and swiped its tail against the point of connection.

The sleeve fell free. And with it, the entire plate. The large segment departed from the creature's flesh with a wet, fetid squelch, startling both it and you.

By the end of the week, the creature's back sported nothing but its fur.

The first snowfall takes its claws; the heavy winter storms, its eyes.

(You spent hours scrubbing the dark, sticky mess from the floor while the great beast blindly paced the halls, howling like some wounded animal and a woman all at once. Once it had exhausted its voice and the pain dragged its heavy body to the floor, you came over with a pitcher of water to find the eye-sockets empty.)

It is useless now, your poor Lord Knave.

Useless and blind and more demanding than ever.

Touch replaces its sight, its large paws clumsy as they glide across furniture, floors, and you.

It will find you by smell and sound, then trail a trembling joint across your arm as though to reassure itself of your presence before slinking off to some corner of the castle.

Always hunched.

Always awkward.

It does not know why you stay. Why you do not run like the others had. It would let you.

The old witch's rotten heart knows it would let you.

Is that why it's hurting so? Because the year is coming to an end and you're still here?

(Kind you. Patient you. Do you know you've become all that is dearest to the beast?)

In the evenings, when you come to join it for warmth and company, the beast will make space for you.

At night, your mind drifting and weary, it will tell you its name.

"Peruere," it says, heavy tail thumping against your leg.

"Peruere?"

"That is my name." The beast yawns. Does it know it's lost a row of teeth? "You may stop calling me Lord Knave now."

You hum. Peruere...

What a peculiar name. How stupidly lovely.

That winter, in the arms of Peruere's unseasonable, insistent heat, you wish for the year to never end.

(Beside you, ears slanted in the direction of your heart, the Lord Knave slumbers to a melody it finds more soothing than anything has ever been)

When the snow has thawed and the blind beast does not show up to greet you come evening, you begin to worry.

You search the halls, the cellars, and the balconies, before finding the creature—your useless, foolish Peruere—half-frozen in the garden.

It takes you a moment to recognize the lord. Its once massive body had shrunk and lost its fur, leaving a heaving, grey clump of torn tissue and a host-less structure of bones—far too large to uphold the small mess of a being within.

You drag the sickly, formless thing back inside and bundle it in furs by the hearth's fire.

And then, you wait.

Bones start crunching in the pile by morning, the clump slowly gaining shape.

By evening, the screaming starts. The once-beast hollers and writhes as its body finds its form, skin knitting over flesh and gaining colour.

Before the day is done, a woman lies in your lap, shivering from everything but the cold. For she is still warm. Still the Lord Knave in anything but appearance.

(You press a finger to her pulse. It beats like yours.)

Her eyes are last to form, appearing sometime at dawn. Their sudden weight forces the woman from her exhausted slumber, beauty meeting her when she opens her eyelids; then, the rising sun.

She raises a trembling hand, finds it hers again and kinder than it has been in decades, and places it onto your warm cheek, the softest thing she's ever been allowed to touch.

It is April again, and red crosses greet you when you wake, the lady of the castle staring at you from beneath expensive furs.

[bumbercar]

a blurb in which ellie’s a sex shop worker you’re becoming very, very well-acquainted with <3

18+ mdni! shoo!

you’re on the verge of what would be your most earth-shattering orgasm to date when your vibrator betrays you.

your naked body, painted with a thin layer of sweat, sprawls over the wrinkled sheets of your bed, the damp fabric clinging to your skin as you gasp for breath. you’re working the vibrator over your slick folds, through the creamy spend of your previous orgasm, and every sensation below your waist is pure ecstasy. it hasn’t taken long to bring you right back to the edge - your back arches of its own accord, your eyes squeezing shut as a flurry of daydreams passes through your head.

all of them, it turns out, involve the very person who’d sold you the vibrator buzzing between your legs. ellie.

her hands on your hips, your ass, your throat. her mouth on your neck, her tongue on your clit. you can almost feel the warm puffs of breath she’d huff down at you as she fucked you, splitting you open with her strap and leaving you empty-headed and spent.

the mental images alone are enough to send you reeling, and right as you’re about to pass the threshold into the white-hot, blinding pleasure of another orgasm, the persistent hum of your vibrator abruptly cuts off.

you could throw up. you could cry. you could exercise sound logic and just charge the damn thing, but instead of any of the above, you find yourself rummaging through your drawers for whatever clothes you can find. sweats and a band tee, a mismatched pair of socks. nothing else.

ellie’s behind the counter again when you pull the door open. the shrill chirp of the entrance sensors draws her eyes to you, and you’re unsurprised to find her smoking a cigarette, body huddled over the edge of the counter. her brows lift in surprise when she sees you.

“back already?” she asks, putting out her cig leisurely. “must’ve gone really well. or maybe really poorly?“

you don’t miss the way her eyes roam over your figure, lingering on your chest; you’re not wearing a bra, and the peaks of your nipples are visible beneath the thin fabric. your back straightens.

“it died.”

“oh,” ellie says. “did you… charge it?”

“no, i wanted to—i thought maybe i could try something else.” you chew at your lower lip, casting a glance at the wall of toys from which ellie had plucked your vibrating bullet the first time you’d come here. you turn back to ellie just in time to see something dark glimmer in her eyes. she nods.

“yeah, of course. think you’re ready for something more intense? c’mon.” she nods her head towards the toy section, her auburn hair cascading over her shoulder. you follow her and watch as she surveys the wall of toys, the sheer volume of packages just as overwhelming as last time. ellie reaches out for a hot pink box, shiny lettering spelling out Boss Lady across the top. you grimace.

“what kind of name is that for a sex toy?” you quip, reaching for the package. ellie snatches it out of reach.

“ah-ah, sweetheart, don’t doubt the Boss Lady. she packs quite the punch.”

“really, now?” you ask, cocking a brow. “you know from experience?”

ellie just smiles, dimples in her cheeks. “if the name is just too cringy for you, we can find something else. but i recommend her—i think you’ll have lots of fun with her.”

“okay, fine. you pulled my leg.” you reach for the box again, and ellie lets you grab it this time, her gaze on you as you flip the package over and read through some of the metallic pink text adorning the back. the only rabbit vibrator you’ll ever need, it reads. powerful dual stimulation will keep you satisfied!

it occurs to you then, as you follow ellie to the register and dig in your pockets for some cash, that you should probably be embarrassed. here you are, a week after your first ever vibrator purchase, ready to fork over some hard-earned cash for a second one—one with a questionable name, no less. your cheeks warm as ellie regards you from the other side of the register, the heels of her hands pressed to the counter. there’s a knowing look on her face, her lips curled into the faintest hint of a smirk, that dark look from earlier still dancing in her eyes.

god, she probably thinks you’re a sex addict. she totally thinks you’re a sex addict.

“is it weird that i’m back so soon?” you ask, before you can think to filter yourself. ellie’s brows knit together in confusion.

“huh? no, no, not at all—we have plenty of regulars, you know.” she types something into the register, eyes still fixed on you. “i’d say it’s weirder that you’re here at two in the morning.”

you blink. “two?”

“two twenty-one, to be precise.” ellie nods at the clock on the wall, the hour, minute, and second hands made of three different flesh-toned penis cutouts. “but hey, i get it. your vibrator died.”

you clear your throat. “how much do i owe you?”

“hm. well…” ellie drums her fingers on the cash wrap’s countertop. “i’m feeling generous tonight. answer one question for me, and Boss Lady is yours for free.”

“i’m awful at trivia,” you confess.

“trivia? jesus.” ellie barks a surprised laugh. “i’m not—it’s not trivia.”

narrowing your eyes, you shuffle up to the counter and nod. “okay, fine. ask away.”

ellie moves in closer, too, head dipping ever so slightly to allow her to peer down at you. it takes everything in you to keep your eyes from lingering over her frame and drinking in every inch of her: the bold lines of her forearm tattoo, the burn-holes in the collar of her shirt, the faint kiss of freckles on the bridge of her nose. but while you attempt to reign in your wandering gaze, ellie doesn’t hold back. she takes her time looking you over. bites the plush, pink swell of her lower lip.

then: “what were you thinking about?”

“huh?”

“earlier, when you were touching yourself. before the vibrator died. what were you thinking about?”

“that’s your question?” you chew on the inside of your cheek. embarrassment roils in your stomach; she has to know that, while your body writhed in the center of your mattress, cunt twitching and gushing, you’d been thinking of her.

ellie smirks. “you don’t need to answer if you don’t want to.”

“no, it’s… it’s okay,” you murmur. your palms are clammy and you force your gaze to Boss Lady, waiting patiently on the counter for her chance to help you see god. “i was thinking about, um… you, actually.”

you’re still staring at the gaudy pink package on the counter, hands squeezed into fists at your side. you can feel the half-moon indents of your nails digging into your palms, and just as the silence stretches a bit too long for your comfort, ellie laughs.

it’s a wicked thing, a biting sound. all self-satisfaction and enthrallment. you dare to steal a glance at her, and she’s grinning like a maniac, her cheeks tinged the prettiest shade of red.

“can i tell you something?” she asks, stuffing a hand into her pocket and pulling out a wad of cash. her fingers glide over the cash register, clicking at a few buttons, and she slides the money into each respective slot before pushing the drawer closed with a satisfying click. “i’ve been touching myself to the thought of you, too.”

mouth going dry, you gawk at ellie like she’s got four heads; she simply beams at you like she didn’t just admit that she’s thought about you with her hand between her legs. she leans over the counter, one strong hand reaching towards you to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“you seem nervous,” she says.

“i’m—i don’t…” you trail off, cheeks positively flaming.

“tell you what,” ellie begins, retracting her hand. she moves back from the counter and crosses her arms over her chest. your eyes flicker over the whorls of ink that decorate her skin, biceps flexed just so; your cunt throbs. “you can go now, if you want. i won’t stop you.”

“or,” she says, voice dipping low, husky, “you can lock that front door, and i can show you how much fun you can have with your new toy.”

she reaches a hand out and taps the box for emphasis, and you’re struck by how at ease she seems. how comfortable she is with your mutual attraction and the opportunity to act on it. it lights a fire in you, one that engulfs every last trace of doubt.

you lock the front door, of course.

[bumbercar]

SHAKES YOU AGGRESSIVELY

Could I request Intersex Jane Doe x Cat! Thiren reader? Sorry for the thiren reader asks I really like characters with animal features (I was the one who requested the intersex Zhu Yuan x Rabbit! Thiren reader! I loved it btw, tysm for doing it!!)

Maybe just Jane Doe overstimulating the reader by cumming inside her over and over again? And Jane's tail interlocking with the readers tail as a way to comfort her (HAHSGRJBF sorry I just really like women breeding me😓)

Intersex! Jane Doe overstimulating her fem! cat thiren! S/O

note -> I'm glad you liked the Zhu Yuan one! I hope you like this one too :3

warnings -> NSFW WRITTEN BY A MINOR!!

content includes -> overstimulation, breeding kink, hickeys/bite marks, short.

Jane just loves to hear the little moans and whimpers coming out of your mouth as she fucks you from behind, your neck and shoulders covered in hickeys and bite marks, your fluffy ears flopped down as your claws tore into the bed sheets, ripping them

She doesnt know how many times she came in you, filling you up over and over as a punishment for making her jealous, wanting to claim you and fill you up with your own kittens, her tail interlocked with yours as a way of comfort as she fucked you at a burtal pace until she thrusted into you one last time, burying her cock in you as she came, making you whimper

Jane would grin ear to eat as she turned you around, her cock still deep inside of you, your tear-stained face red from all the crying, kissing you on the forehead and calling you a good girl as she pulled out, watching as the cum poured out of your abused cunt

[bumbercar]

dating jane doe~

stay still, darling... ☆ jane doe x thiren!reader

~ damn yall seem to really like dating jane doe.. lowk me too id be in love with her too i mean i AM in love with her laughing out loud haha hehe anyways SUGGESTIVE but no sex sorry gays <3 ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

How did you end up agreeing to this? You knew you wouldn't be able to handle this- Jane. Yet you agreed. You said sure, why not? You had been dating for like a month or two now, surely this wouldn't be too flustering or intense right? It's not like you haven't kissed yet or-

Now you lay on your bed Jane straddling your lap and leaning in way too close (but you're not complaining) as she does your makeup. Her tongue sticks out slightly, licking her lips as she lets out a huffed sigh.

Never mind. This is way too much.

You did not prepare yourself for how hot your girlfriend looks when she's straddling you. You can feel your tail struggling to sway from side to side from under both your bodyweight, and your ears flat against your head as you hold your breath.

"Baby, stop squirming." She rolls her eyes with a slight smile on her face. You could only look away, you were already barely able to function as her eyes dart all over your face as if memorising every detail- every little mark and every small crevice. It has your heart racing out of your chest, and you can feel the blood rushing to your face under her intense gaze. You flinch when you feel her cold fingers reaching up to graze your cheek, and she giggles at how warm your face is.

"You're really flustered, aren't you?"

"Shut up."

Is all you could manage out as you look away. She lets out a tsk, tilting your head back to face her.

"I'm not done, sweetheart. Stay still for me?"

You let out a sound that was a mix between an embarrassed squeak and a groan of complaint. Jane just giggles happily as she moves her hand down your chest, setting her hand on your waist. You can feel her fingernails grazing your sides, tracing shapes as she picks up the eyeliner pen again. She moves her hand back up to your face, and you swear you feel goosebumps form under her touch. You couldn't help but shiver as she cups your cheek, leaning in close again.

As she begins to do your makeup again, you can't help but focus on the way she bites her lower lip in focus, the way her eyes narrow slightly as she lets out a small huff. Your hand subconsciously moves up to her waist, tightening your grip as you try to steady your breathing.

"Baby, if you enjoy being under me, you can just say so."

Jane stares down at you with this wicked smirk, putting down the eyeliner pen as she moves back slightly, lowering herself so that her lips are mere inches away from yours.

"I quite enjoy the view, if I do say so myself..."

Her voice is low, husky. She licks her lips once more, eyes darting down to yours before she leans in. Her lips press against yours, soft and gentle. But her kiss seems to hold more to it than just love. You can feel the hunger, desperation. You can feel your own claws coming out, digging into her skin. She lets out a soft gasp, hands moving up to tangle into your hair. Her fingers move to scratch at that spot right behind your ears. Your ears perk up, flickering slightly and she giggles.

"Cat thirens are always so sensitive here." she whispers against your lips "It's so fun to toy with them really."

Her kisses grow more selfish, more needy. Her other hand moves down to your chest and you feel yourself growing hotter under her touch.

"Jane- you- you fucking tease." is all you could manage out before letting out a gasp as she moves to press a kiss to your neck.

"Cute." She giggles "I wonder how red your face can get~"

[bumbercar]

Jane Doe (ZZZ) NSFW Headcanons !

pairing(s): jane doe x fem!reader

cw: fingering, gagging (fingers used), strap-on use, dom!jane doe, men and homophobes dni.

a/n: I can’t help it, she’s so UGHHH I CAN’TTT I FUCKING NEED EHR I need her to fuck me silly guys you don’t understand

is it just me, or does jane doe have such thick fingers.. NO BECAUSE LIKE I CAN’T HELP BUT NOTICE THEM PLS

for me, she’s a stone top. always in control no matter how much you try to dominate her. she wants you to be at her mercy and you absolutely have no room for arguments.

her fingers look thick and a bit long, so it’d fill you up so good that you’d become a moaning mess with just her fingers alone.

I feel like, with just two of her fingers, you’d feel so full already. she absolutely loves how your tight walls clamp onto her fingers that the feeling would make her moan.

she loves to pin you against the wall or bend you over a table just so she could fuck you with her fingers. she’s like, 5’7, and I feel like she has a size kink. so, if you’re shorter than her, she uses it to her advantage to press you up against the wall with her body while she fingers you so good. but if you’re taller than her, she does not care at all; she will still be pressing you up against the wall and bend you over.

oftentimes, she uses her fingers to gag you in order for you to keep your voice down while being knuckles deep into your pussy. she’d even whisper sweet, dirty things into your ear, telling you how much of a good girl you are for taking her fingers so well.

when she’s in a more mischievous mood, she brings a strap-on and looks for you so she could use it on you. and when she does find you, good luck, because she’s going to make you see stars.

I just really think that jane doe loves to fuck you up against the wall with your legs around her waist as she pounds into you with her strap. she’s a strong woman, so carrying you is not a problem for her.

she can be gentle, but most of the time, she’s rough. she just can’t get enough of you that she’d get feral over you.

oh right, her tail! there will never be a time that it won’t be coiled around your body. may it be around your leg or your waist, but her favorite body part of yours to have her tail wrapped around with is your leg while she’s inside you.

hearing you moan her name is like music to her ears that she can’t get enough of. it only turns her on so much that she becomes addicted to them and to the point that she won’t stop until she’s satisfied, even if you cum countless of times and beg her to stop because it’s getting too much for you. you can take it; you can take her, right? after all, you’re her good girl and she needs to have you <3

[bumbercar]

Be quiet.

pairing: Arlecchino x fem!reader

context: being scheduled for one meeting after another has quite the toll on your husband and you. Luckily you finally get more than five minutes to spare <3

cw: Arle has a dick here because I said so, creampie ig??, against a wall, semi-public, almost getting caught, orgasm denial, not proofread, this is kinda short but I still ended up liking it!

I just had this random beam of enlightenment while talking to my bestie about possible scenarios with Arle so here I am. Sharing it with you. (pls everyone give their thanks to Chiara because 80% of my ideas stem from our ranting sessions)

NSFW utc, MDNI!

It was supposed to be an ordinary Thursday filled with one meeting and negotiation after the other. Really. Nothing special. All you had to do was sit next to your husband, look pretty and take notes from time to time.

But of course, after repeating this routine for the third time now, things obviously got boring for Arlecchino. On your way to the next conference she couldn’t help but snake her eyes down your back, analyzing the how the strings of your corset moved with each step, how pretty you looked from behind with your hair being put up and how the strands would loosen up one by one if she dared to fuck you against the nearest the wall.

The both of you still had some time to spare after all. She could turn you into a cute mess right now and you would still arrive on time. The idea sounded all too perfect for her if it weren’t for the busy hallway you were currently walking down.

„Let‘s take a shortcut, dearest.“, before you could argue with her that you were already taking the shortcut, you felt a hand snaking around your waist and guiding you to your right into a quiet hallway. Well, maybe she did know a better shortcut? She frequented the Zapolyarny Palace way more often than you, so who knows?

You passed by a pillar and noticed how your husband‘s head whipped around for the third time now to check your surroundings, „Arle…? I don’t think this is a shortcut-”

„I know.“, and suddenly you found yourself pressed up against the wall, a pair of two strong hands holding onto your waist as Arlecchino bent down next to your head, thumb and index finger playing with the expensive fabric of your dress. Oh you knew exactly why she led you here.

You drew a sharp breath into your lungs, the cold marble wall sending a shiver down your spine as her hands worked your skirt slowly up your thighs. As much as intoxicating the switch up was… you grew anxious. After all you were still out in the open, if someone were to came from your left behind the corner they would easily oversee the scandalous position you were but from the right… you didn‘t even want to imagine the outcome- the drama it would create.

„𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙺𝚗𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 ���𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚉𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚢𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚢 𝙿𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎“, you quite literally saw the headline already on the next newspaper.

„Doll… You needn’t worry about us getting caught. Nobody would survive the bare sight of you when I‘m burying myself inside that pretty hole between your legs.“, of course she‘d read your thoughts like an open book. One hand sneaking underneath the fabric to caress your underwear, the wet spot already evident to the touch.

A small sigh escaped your lips, hips moving forward on their own to get more friction between her fingers and your already aching clit, „If you want it say the word.“.

„Please…“, you bit down on your lip to hinder a moan from escaping your mouth as she worked her thumb delicately over your sensitive bud. What an evil woman she was.

„Please what? Be specific. You know how it works.“, drawing this out as much as she could by slowly tugging your slip to the side and exposing your already wet pussy to the cold air surrounding you. She wanted to hear you beg for her to fuck you here in this freezing corridor with no one in sight to witness such an atrocious act being committed within the holy palace walls of her Majesty.

„Peruere please- this is embarrassing, just fuck me already before someone actually catches us-”, followed now by the rustling of of metal and leather echoing through halls. It only took her one hand to undo her belt and free her already raging boner from its clothed prison, a low moan fell from her lips at the sensation.

„Was that so hard now…? Be a good girl and turn around for me, hands on the wall.“, the commanding edge in her voice was actually making you want to drop to your knees but you knew better than to disobey her words and so you turned to the wall with already weakened legs.

The cold marble already stung in your palm but that was as quickly forgotten as possible when your husband lifted your dress up just enough for her dick to effortlessly find your pussy. A black hand closed over your mouth to prevent any sounds from maybe alerting nearby security or other staff.

„Such a wet and needy mess for me already. Pathetic.“, she thrusted her hips forward, burying herself with one, swift move inside of you and fuck it felt good when her unoccupied arm wrapped around your waist to keep you upright against her.

„Goodness me… swallowing me up like nothing without needing much preparation…“, cooing right into your ear, Arlecchino pulled her slightly back out only fuck all the way back inside of you, the guttural moan she drew out of you being muffled by her hand.

And there the two of you were. Pressed against a wall without a centimeter of distance between you as your husband spared no efforts to graze that soft spot inside of you with every thrust, every drive of her hips back into yours. The sound of clothes rustling together along with your muffled moans were to be faintly heard through the corridor. Celestia above you prayed that nobody was nearby.

But when did Celestia ever answer your prayers? Certainly not today when Arle‘s movements stilled suddenly inside of you as her head jerked to the right. There were people approaching. According to the the footsteps it was just a pair of two and they didn’t seem like they noticed the filthy sounds that were echoing through hall just mere moments ago. But you were panicking nontheless, trying to get out of Arlecchino‘s tight grip but she didn’t budge the slightest bit.

„Stop moving for the love of it. You‘re not making this easier for us.“, her voice came out as a hiss against your ear. Lord and behold you’re gonna rip her a new one once this is over.

With her tip applying torturous pressure to your cervix, your legs slowly began to shake the longer the both of you had to stand still to wait for the two persons to finally pass by.

„I can’t believe I now have to listen to Pantalone‘s crazy scheming for the next 90 minutes. They surely want to bore us to death.“, that voice belonged to none other than the 11th Fatui Harbinger himself, Childe. It actually couldn’t get any worse from here. If he saw you-

„You think you have it bad? I was just forced to listen to Dottore talk about all kinds of lobotomies for 30 minutes earlier. Everyone in this organization is nuts. Completely insane.“, forget whatever you just thought. Scaramouche is the worse deal here. Now would be the right time for a hole to open up underneath you and swallow you right up.

„Tartaglia and the Balladeer, you‘ve got be kidding me.“, the frustrated whisper against you ear told you that you might be in deep shit.

If it would’ve been ordinary staff, a little Mora were enough to keep their mouths sealed but two Harbingers? And especially the noisiest ones? Pray. That was your only option. Pray that they keep going straightforward or you will never hear the end of it.

„I haven’t seen Arlecchino and her wife since this morning… weird…“, Childe asked his colleague as they actually walked straight past the pillar that was hiding you from their view.

„They‘re probably fucking in some secluded hallway because they can’t stand away from each other for more than a few hours. Disgusting.“, the irony. The sheer irony.

When they were finally out of earshot, your husband didn’t waste another precious second to ravage you right where she left you.

„I‘ll kill him someday.“, she buried her face in the crook of your neck to silent her own low grunts, obviously just wanting to finally finish the job before someone else decides to frequent this path.

And when she released herself inside of you, cock twitching between your clenching walls, Arlecchino didn’t continue for the sake of your own high, earning herself a pained whine.

„A-Are you kidding me-?!“, panting between words, she pulled your slip back over your leaking entrance before fixing your clothes as if she didn’t just made you the the light at the other end of the tunnel. Evil.

She clicked her tongue when she bent down next to your ear again.

„Keep it inside for the duration of the meeting and I‘ll reward you greatly in my office later. You can do that for me, can’t you, my love?“, the heat shot up right to your face as you knew what she was referring to.

As you turned back around to her while she closed up her belt again, you nodded, „I- uh… I-I guess I can try…“.

„I knew I can count on you.“, pressing a kiss to your head like she didn’t just challenge you to keep her cum inside for the next 90 minutes.

The side eye Scaramouche gave your for the duration of the meeting was enough to make you sweat. But you managed.

And lord she did reward you.