#arle

[angelic--kitty]

Arle dirty making out- almost dryfucking wife!reader in a dark hallway while almost half of the organization is looking for her ngh SHE GOT MORE IMPORTANT STUFF ON HER HANDS (her wife’s ass for example)

hiiii alba (twirling my hair and giggling)

yeah.... im down with this

semi-public with dom!arlecchino

warnings: nsfw (mdni), wlw content, dom!arlecchino x sub!fem reader, semi-public, making out, thigh grinding (does this count as clothed sex?? lmao). you call her peruere (shhhhh). mentions of murder in thought (not perrie or reader; she loves you!!!!)

zapolyarny palace; a cold and rather silent home to the tsarita, though it feels rather warm from where you're nestled into arlecchino's coat.

"peruere- this is-" you gasp softly, feeling her wrap her fluffy coat further around your body, concealing you against her in the dark, cold hallway of the palace.

"hush now, unless you would like us to get caught and cut this short?" she asks, eyes slightly narrowed as she brushes her knuckles against your cheek.

she watches your eyes dart to the side as you bite the inside of your cheek. you knew she had a meeting to attend, one she was late for in favor of pleasing you.

you knew the meeting attendees were surely sending people to look for your wife, and yet...

you only wanted her for yourself, at least in this moment. and she can see it in your eyes, the slight movements letting her know you made up your mind.

"kiss me." you order her, letting her lips capture yours, her hand gripping your jaw. it starts slow, tender, turning into something more feral as your back presses against the wall.

you're shielded from the cold by the fluffy lining of her coat, but not from how her other hand pierces the flesh of your hip with her nails.

her thigh slides up between yours as her tongue slides into your mouth. she explores and devours you, leaving you to quietly moan into her mouth as her tongue laves over yours.

she allows your hips to gently rut over her thigh before she grows bored of your languid movements.

her hands roughly grab your hips, grinding you in a faster motion, enough that you could feel it through the thicker material of your pants.

you break away from the kiss first, desperate for air as you hear people calling for her in the distance, looking for the knave.

"fuck, please- don't stop-" you whimper, head falling to rest against hers as she stares at you, etching your image into her memory.

she doesn't care that they're looking for the knave. you need peruere right now, and so she shall deliver.

she trails hot kisses down the side of your neck, pleased at how you crane your neck to give her better access. peruere feels your own hips finally catching up to the pace she set, clearly nearing the edge from the friction of fabric and toned muscle.

"that's it," she mumbles against your skin. "you're perfect."

your whimpers grow a little louder, and she recaptures your lips, ensuring to drink up every little sound you make when you cum for her. as much as she loves the thrill you get from almost getting caught, she would never let it happen.

after all, if anyone had seen you in that state, they wouldn't be allowed to leave. and she'd have to clean up that mess. too bothersome when she's busy taking care of her wife, really.

"good girl." she praises you softly, feeling your hips slowly come to a halt as you nuzzle into her, giving her cheek a few kisses of your own.

"you should...get to that meeting before they send the entire army to find you." comes your cheeky little voice as she grunts.

"very well."

[knavesflames]

𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝑒𝓍 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓇𝓁𝑒𝒸𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑜

hello friends, I have arrived. As per the poll, shower sex was first. I had trouble figuring out how to do this but settled on this. I hope you enjoy! (it’s supposed to snow on monday, god save me) (i always end my fics with humour why)

Word count: 2.1k

Contents: shower, tired arlecchino, fingering, it’s soft they love each other fr

nsft utc!

Arlecchino’s favourite thing to do after a long day of dealing with incompetent Fatui grunts is come home and see you. You greet her the same way each time, greeting her with a soft hum, waiting for her to appear in your vision. She appreciates that you give her space to at least take her blazer off. She does it hastily, the garment often being left on the floor by the doormat to be picked up by her on the way to bed later that night. You always seem to be cooking when she comes home, something you have learned to time perfectly— you know she gets hungry when she comes home, and you know she’ll only forget to eat. Each time she moves to the kitchen to wrap her arms around you, a soft sigh leaves her lips, her own subtle way of smelling what she can only describe as pure domesticity.

Arlecchino’s job requires her to be many things. Ruthless, unfeeling, violent, even. When her hands graze your waist, you feel none of that. The hands belong to a woman full of love, even if she cannot express it. You do things for her that no other person would. When you share a meal, for example, you leave any spices out of it (to her satisfaction, much to your own dismay), until the end, after you’ve plated whatever food it is and placed it on the table. It takes more time, but the small flicker of gratitude in her eyes when she sees the colour difference, or smells the difference of the two dishes, warms your heart.

Your eyes inspect her as she eats. Expressionless as she is, she isn’t very good at hiding her feelings. Not with you, anyway. “What’s the matter?” Your quiet voice comes out as a sort of hum as you glance up at her. You watch her hand slows, the metal of the fork reflecting the ceiling light.

“I am tired. Clearly, nobody in this organisation can do their jobs. I do not understand how we are to revive the—“ She cuts herself off before she says anything else. You know well enough that she doesn’t talk about work at home. You do not ask her to. You watch as her hand comes up to release her hair from her signature ponytail, a smile making its way to your face when her snowy strands cascade down her shoulders, disappearing behind her back. When her hair is down, she looks almost soft. Kind. You know, deep down, buried under the facade of strictness (that you beg her to stop applying to herself— she never listens), she is a woman full of love. You know that much because even during nights where her nails are biting into the skin of your thighs, or your hips, or even on occasion, your neck as she draws sound after sound out of you, the other hand is always caressing some part of you, her eyes always full of tenderness.

You remember one of the first times you had sex with her— it was the first time you had attended one of those stupid Fatui balls with her. You had let her pick out the outfit herself, and she enjoyed herself thoroughly. You had barely gotten into your apartment before she had picked you up and laid you softly on the bed sheets, grumbling about how you never made your bed. You were still figuring each other out— what worked, and what didn’t. Midway through, when you weren’t thinking, you whispered. “Degrade me.” Your eyes moved to look into her own, only to be met with an immediate frown. “I will not. How could I ever say such things about you?” You tried to explain, perhaps wondering if she was unaware of what it truly was. She did know, she couldn’t fathom saying a bad word to you, even in such a situation. You learned then how soft she truly was.

“A shower would help,” you muse through a mouthful of the food. “Warm water is good for tense muscles. You’re tense, you can barely keep your shoulders relaxed.” Her eyes move towards the food in front of her. For some reason, she isn’t too hungry. Work has stressed her incredibly, to the point her sentences are short and curt. Her face is apologetic after, you know she means well. You allow it. “I can wash your hair, I know you like that.” After deliberation, she lets out a small hum, a yes.

Once your stomachs are full, you move to place them in the sink, vowing to yourself that you’ll clean them later (you’ll forget). Taking her by her blackened hand, you gently, but insistently drag her towards the bathroom. Her footsteps are heavy on the floor as she reluctantly follows along. Something has obviously happened at work, you think, because she is just so stressed. You plan to make sure the water at least relaxes her muscles.

Once the water is warm enough and both of you have undressed in quiet silence (she has her showers so hot you can’t touch the water. You don’t understand how she can withstand such heat), you guide her into the shower, your touch as gentle as it’s always been. You listen to the barely audible sigh that escapes her when she feels the water touch her skin. “Good?” You murmur softly, smiling when you hear her hum in appreciation, her shoulders slowly slumping. You know Arlecchino well, it seems. Her hand comes up to cup your cheek, the feeling is different than it usually is— the water is warm, her hand is somehow even warmer. In turn, your hand does the same, cupping her cheek with such softness it seems you’re barely touching her.

“I haven’t seen you like this in so long,” her voice is as smooth as it usually is, the same velvety tone despite the exhaustion. “I almost forgot how beautiful you are. Almost.” A chuckle leaves your throat at the wry smile that appears on her face. “You are stunning, but you must take better care of yourself, Peruere.” Your gentle chiding causes a huff to escape from her, a dismissal, you know that much. You open your mouth to chide her once more, but her lips swallow your words before you can even form a syllable. It’s a soft kiss, softer than the usual kisses she gives you. When you part, you can’t help but gasp and choke slightly at the water dripping onto your face, and into your mouth.

“Did you just swallow some?” She asks, a small chuckle rising in her throat. A hand comes up to gently shove her before you giggle, a sound that also is quickly drowned out by her lips. Her kiss is different this time, with more fervour and need in it. You let both of your hands wander until the meet and rest on the nape of her neck, fingers gently scratching at the wet hair strands. Arlecchino’s own hands gently guide you towards the wall, giving you respite against the relentless water stream. The air is thick with heat and steam, the mirrors fogged, but it seems neither of you are paying any attention to it. Her hands wander, tracing every part of your body she can reach. When you break for air, her lips take purchase on the skin of your neck, kissing and sucking gently marks onto it, marks you know will stay for a few days. You like it.

“You’re always so good to me,” she mumbles, nails slightly dragging against your skin. It feels good in a way you can’t explain. “Let me take care of you, hm?” You can’t see her face, but you can picture it, and the thought alone has you nodding breathlessly. Prying your legs gently apart, she lets out a breath against your neck, her voice changing to one that always has you melting.

“It’s been so long, hasn’t it? You must be so desperate.” It’s a question that doesn’t need answering. You’re very well aware that you’ve spent nights trying— and failing, to recreate what she does to you. She’s aware because despite the water that wets your skin, you’re the wettest you’ve ever been when her middle finger glides across your folds, eliciting a small gasp from you. She hums, pleased at the sight of her finger glistening (before it is quickly washed away by the water) when she pulls it back. A whine practically rips from your throat when you feel her absence, and you begin to wonder how you’ve managed to become so desperate within minutes. On a usual day, she’d tease you until you begged for it, but all she wants is to see your face when you reach the peak of your orgasm. It’s the one thing she thinks about when she’s on her missions, or when she's sat at the office— the way you cry her name, her real name, the way you tremble. The thought causes her to make a sound you swear she’s never made before, a whimper.

Her finger moves back to where it was, caressing and moving through each fold until she’s circling your entrance. You’re grateful she clips her nails (she’d rip them off if you told her to). Arlecchino’s red crosses meet your own eyes, and her eyebrows twitch in question. When you nod in response, your hips moving slightly, the corners of her lips twitch slightly in a smile as she presses her finger in, then another. The noise that comes from you can only be described as unholy, and it drives Arlecchino on further. She lets you get used to the sensation before she curls her fingers up into the same spot you happen to miss every time you do it yourself. Your eyes fly open and your lips part, but she speaks before you can make noise.

“Shh, be quiet. The shower doesn’t muffle everything.” You know nobody will hear anyway, but she’s always liked the idea of you trying to stay as quiet as possible, the look on your face every single time a louder moan escapes you. Perhaps it’s some sort of fantasy she has, to get caught, or at the very least, the prospect of being caught. You’re ripped out of your thoughts when Arlecchino curls her fingers again, finding a rhythm that has you bucking your hips. She leans down, mouth attaching to one of your nipples, and she practically groans herself. The water has formed droplets on your skin, and she thinks it makes you look even more appealing. There seems to be something about you, in the shower, whispering her name that seems to get her. She swears she could practically orgasm herself just at the sight of you.

“Peruere, please,” comes the mewl from you, words mixed with shaking breath. She (and you, for that matter) feels you clenching around her, and it only drives her to continue. A hand comes to rest in the soaked strands of her hair, tugging gently, and she knows it’s a sign that you’re close. Again, she chuckles, releasing your chest and moving her lips back to your own. Her tongue touches your bottom lip, and when you, somehow, in your pleasure clouded mind, deepen the kiss, her thumb finds your clit. The pressure is light, and it takes only a couple of circular movements before your hand in her hair tightens, your voice rising to a soft cry as you finally get the orgasm you’ve been chasing (alone or not) for such a long time. Her movements continue until your gasping turns to heavy breathing, and your eyes manage to focus on her again. Only then does Arlecchino pull out her fingers, holding them up to show you, like she always does. She knows it embarrasses you, she can tell by the way you avert your gaze. And as expected, you practically choke on your own saliva when she doesn’t hesitate in cleaning her fingers. Not by running them under the water, but letting her tongue flicking out of her mouth to lap up the evidence of your pleasure.

“What are you— you can’t do that.” You sound practically horrified at the notion (like you haven’t spent nights with her fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet, or to do exactly what she’s doing now. You enjoy those. It isn’t so bad when you’re tasting yourself, for some reason). Eventually, when she sees your wide eyes, she relents, moving to run them under the water.

The water isn’t as hot anymore, having dulled to a lukewarm temperature. “The water bill will be high this month, I assume.” Arlecchino says it with such nonchalance that you can’t help but snort. Biting your lip, you join her in her joking. “I didn’t wash my hair. Warm it back up. I know you can.”

[minart-was-taken]

Hello to the five other Puyo Puyo fans on Tumblr 👋

[knvarlet]

arlecchino genshin impact…save me….save me arlecchino genshin impact

[neroisfishing]

arlecchino meets midra, then becomes father of frenzied flames :)

[cosmicpopstar64]

Amitie and Arle in the PASWG style!

[shutupdickface]

Bed Of Roses!

Before You Proceed....

Minors DNI!

NSFW! Transfem!Arlecchino x Afab!reader!

Mentions of blood, Few depictions of death, Arle's really rough in this one chat but you don't mind........ 😛 Arle with fangs (js pointy canines), scars, slight dacryphilia or wtv, blah blah blah... name from bed of roses by msi (i love u steven)

A/N: tried 2 write arle in the way i think of her (ruthless, gruesome, and hostile 😛) i also wrote this while playing sims 4...... first time writing too so like YAY!!!!! im french so arles french. i've always hated writing and essays so dont expect much with that

NSFW UTC

Your heart stopped when you heard the sudden click of the door unlocking. Goddamn it.. why now?.... is what you'd usually ask yourself when Arlecchino entered the room.. but now you were wondering how exactly you'd get out of this situation.

You stood there, frozen as you heard the sounds of her heels coming closer and closer.... then stop. you felt her disgustingly cold hands carressing your body, tracing over the surface of the skin you knew she wanted to rip apart. "Hm.. waiting for me, are you?" she'd whisper in your ear, and you could feel your stomach churning as you faught the urge to tell her you were done with her and all of her bullshit.

But.. no matter what, you never did. You knew she'd tear you apart if you dare say that. You hated her touching you, knowing those "loving" touches were by the same hands that slaughtered many. either ripping their throat out or punching their face in, her hands were littered with the lives of many.

"Let's skip to it then.. shall we? i know you missed me.." She said, slowly unbuttoning your shirt with ease. "Say you missed me." She demanded, and you could feel those horrifying eyes burning into you.

"I-.. I missed you, Arlecchino." You told her, your voice shaky as she continued undressing you. "Good.. now lay down." she replied, motioning you over towards your own bed. The bedspread decorated with red roses, the sheets she had personally bought you.

As she walked over to you, she started undressing herself. she seemed eager to get her way. she had no care whatsoever, throwing her clothing wherever throughout the room, as long as it caused you trouble, she could care less.

She crawled onto the bed, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at her in the eye. her nails dug into your skin, burning painfully as your breath hitched in fear. "You love me, don't you? you'd never leave me?" she said, lifting your leg up with her free hand.

"Yes.. I would never leave you." you responded, looking fearful as she aligned her aching dick to your entrance. "I've been waiting for you all day, mon amour.." she grinned, slamming into you. your face lit up in pain, a small tear forming in your eye.

"You take it so well, don't you.. If only i could do this more often." she groaned, smiling down at you with those sharp teeth of hers. she leaned down, digging her nails into your hips, letting them draw blood. she thrusted into you, and you could only barely enjoy it through the pain of her teeth now sinking into you and her nails clawing at your skin.

Her hips slammed against yours, the only sound in the room being the harsh slaps of her skin against yours and your incoherent babbling. "You love this.. admit it." She grunted, pulling away from your shoulder, licking up the blood that poured out. This woman was disgusting.

She reached down, rubbing you clit harshly. her mouth went right to your neck, her teeth sinking into the sensitive skin once more. she pounded her cock into your cunt harshly, rubbing your clit for extra stimulation.

"You're going to enjoy this.. can't wait to see you cum all over my dick." she whispered through her bites. your shoulders were littered with bite marks and blood. tears streaming down you face, and you'd think she'd feel some sort of remorse.. but no. it only made her go harder.

"Please..!" you yelled out, thrashing against her in an attempt to get away from her rough treatment. "Shut up. Shut the fuck up." she grumbled, gritting her teeth in anger at your sudden refusal. her nails dug back into your hips, and she began to pound into you as hard she could.

with a few grunts and harsh words and slaps, she came, emptying herself into your cunt. she pulled out, standing up off the bed. "Come here and clean me up.. I've got places to be." She ordered.

this would be awhile...

in reality, i got lazy at the end and rushed cause i wanted to get back to playing sims 4.

[kujikawaiiart]

Arle comm~

[crankyfoodfriends]

[shionaster]

THEY MAKE MY HEART BREAK CRYINGG clervie is literally too perfect to exist in this world so they had to kill her off...

[dafusedhamsters024]

I— I don’t even want to know what they’re up to.

[angelic--kitty]

would arle be on the lengthier side or the thicker side?

sorry i've been gone so long, but i figured this is a nice ask to come back to.

oh, and good question!!! i'd like to think of it in terms of cock vs strap ;p

(nsfw 18+ utc - dick/strap discussion)

if arlecchino had a dick, i think she'd be more on the lengthier side! she's taller and toned, but still pretty slender. i'd like to think she has longer hands, too (better to nudge that sensitive spot of yours 😚). she'd have the same type of markings on her cock as she does on the rest of her body; a pretty gradient that she likes watching your lips slide down closer to her pelvis.

if arlecchino had a strap, well, who am i kidding- she has a collection. different ones to suit her different needs. sometimes, she wants length to watch you struggle to sink down fully on her, whining when she settles against your g-spot. other times, she wants girth so she can admire your pussy squeezing around her, desperately trying to fit all of her in. and, on other occasions, she needs both. perfect to get you squirming and crying for her while she urges orgasm after orgasm out of you!

[knavesflames]

ARLECCHINO’S HANDS

A little thing about Arlecchino’s hands I wrote while multitasking because I’m thinking thoughts and I can’t do anything about them >:( the world hates me rn

contents: hands. hands doing sexual things. I love hands could you tell. HANDS.

nsft utc!

Think about Arlecchino, a graceful yet ruthless harbinger. There is nothing but violence in the darkened palms of her hands, skin stained with the blood of those she had so viciously slaughtered once before. Said hands are taken care of meticulously, however. Manicured stiletto shaped nails painted black and red, you aren’t sure that you’ve seen her with her hands looking anything less than perfect. Even in the dirtiest, most bloody of battles, the first thing she does is wipe her hands off.

Two nails are filed down, just enough for them to be blunt. Everyone notices, nobody asks. They seem to know the answer. How could they not, when you’re always draped around her arm, looking up at her like you’d give her the world (you would) (her world is you) You’re either staring at her hands or holding them. The question of your enjoyment of them needs not to be asked.

Of course, when you’re not in public, caressing them, holding them, or staring at them, they’re holding your waist as she fucks into you with her favourite strap, her eyes piercing into yours while her breath comes in sharp pants from the effort of slamming into you, and her voice coming out in hoarse praises of “good girl”, “you sound so pretty”, and “you take my strap so well, don’t you?”, her words demanding a response from you, whether it be moaning, whimpering or babbles of confirmation and requests to keep going. Occasionally, when she’s feeling particularly kind to you, one hand will come down to allow her thumb to rub soft circles on your clit, allowing you to cum around her quicker. The sound of her hips meeting yours rings out and you could swear it drowns out the sound of her breathing.

Or, if they’re not gripping your waist, one of them is between your legs, two fingers pressing into you and curling when they reach the gummy spot inside of you that causes your legs to buckle, and one is gently pressing on your lower stomach, just to tease you a bit more, to cause more noises but to also make sure you can’t move and chase more of what she’s giving you. You get what she wants, when she wants. But you love her hands, and you love the way her palm grinds against your clit when she adds a third finger.

When she’s feeling particularly frustrated, for whatever reason, she enjoys wrapping said hand around your pretty throat, squeezing at little intervals to remind who truly controls you (at least in that moment, anyway). She enjoys watching your breathless smile and your stifled moans, and absolutely adores the way your face changes and contorts when you reach your orgasm thanks to her skilled digits constantly working inside of you and her thumb rubbing circles on your puffy clit the way she knows has you trembling within seconds.

You adore her hands, and the many ways you can make use of them.

[cheri-2047]

Arlecchino when you’re sick

I want to write for arlecchino so have her pampering u when ure sick.

Y’all I’m like questioning if I wrote this like too nice for her or too mean 😭 my bad. Anyways enjoy

WOWWW I FINALLY LEARNED JOW TO COLOR TEXT AND STUFF. YIPEE

Tags: none

Okay so I write her in 2 ways, one is for relationship like she’s ur gf and the other is like if ure her kid from the hearth just pick one

RELATIONSHIP:

-Arlecchino is always a busy woman, either doing fatui work or taking care of the hearth

The moment she hears you’ve gotten sick (either from you telling her or someone telling someone and so on) she pauses her work and leaves whatever things that are needed to do to lyney (she says it’s “practice for when he becomes king”)

She comes to you to see you in bed, curled up to give you meds and stays in your shared home. She lays next to you and wraps one arm around you.

“…didnt I say to rest?”

She would ask, with a slight scolding tone. Before you could reply, she shushes you “sh..don’t speak, go rest”

She pays her head as she wraps her arm around your shoulder, while doing fatui paperwork with you next to her.

“Sleep”

She basically forces you to sleep and rest. If you don’t, she will pull you closer to her, while humming a tune she would sing to the children of the hearth.

As you slowly fall asleep, she lays the blanket over you and if you’re cold, she will use her pyro vision stuff to warm you up.

The next time you wake up she will NOT be there, instead she leaves a tray of your favorite food next to you and meds with a note of her apologizing and she leaves for fatui stuff.

ARLECCHINO AS YOUR FATHER:

As she hears you’re sick, she would tell the other kids to care for you while she’s not there. She would cancel your missions and let you rest (even 1 week after you’re better to ensure u can do ur best)

Arlecchino asks her kids how you’re doing while she is doing paperwork in her office.

Though at night, while everyone at the hearth is asleep, she visits your room. She sees you asleep and sits on the stool next to you.

“Wake up….”

She says softly, while holding out a thermometer and meds.

“Time for your meds”

She helps you sit up and helps you drink your meds, slowly tucking you back in.

If you tell her something hurts, she would nod and leave the room. Coming back to give you whatever will relieve the pain.

The rest of the night she stays by your side, patting your head.

The next morning, she’s gone without a trace. But she leaves plushies beside you (for comfort) and a note saying

“Rest. Fatui orders.”

[eldarianduelist]

squished

[aixeko]

Hoyolab I love you, I love you hoyolab

Yes you can touch her anywhere, and it's a feature omffggg. For both HSR and Genshin.

Gonna be giving them head pats everyday now 😣