#ANON THANK YOU FOR THIS BRAINROT

[maybanksprincess]

How do you think JJ would react to new girl friend reader telling him she has a pain kink? I bet he would be a little stand offish at first not wanting to hurt her but then he would go absolutely crazy with it after he hears her moan when he bites her shoulder in doggy. He is so into it that he’s pinching her in public to let her know when he’s horny. I find that to be so hot and very much like jj🤭🤭

you two had been taking your sex life very slow, having sex in limited positions because you weren't sure what the both of you liked, and of course neither of you were bold enough to bring it up.

you both have had sex in doggy, and had sex in the car a few times, other than that...its a wrap

eventually when he gets comfortable enough he would pinch her thigh or waist in public to let her know he's got a boner and they need a quickie in the car.

jj honestly didn't know what came over him when he leant down to bite your shoulder during one of y'all's quickies, he almost apologized, stilling his pace from behind you a bit, just when he opens his mouth to speak, he hears a pornographic moan escape your throat.

before he can register whats happening, he feels you clamp down on him and fuck yourself on his cock. it only escalated from there.

he leans down and bites your neck and shoulder softly, nipping at the skin as he meets your thrusts. "mm you like that mama?" he growls in your ear

he was so turned on from the fact that he made you almost cum from literally biting you, the next few seconds he feels your creamy release on his cock.

he was never gonna let you live it down, and hes gonna keep biting you during sex more often <3

[harmonysanreads]

Yan Sunday’s darling looking him straight in the eye and biting into the halovian burger.

It is a threat.

“Sunday, look here for a second.” the Oak Family Head nearly failed to win the wrestle against the maelstrom of noises clamoring around the Golden Hour and distinguish your call from them. It was not his honed senses that provided the sole aid this time, rather, it was the syrupy lilt that dripped from your words and rendered him momentarily off-guard.

That is a weakness he'd like to believe he no longer surrenders to, while it is true he unquestionably would have if one was to focus on an earlier point of his life, Sunday would prefer to believe his tastes have since matured and his restraint has hardened. Indeed, Sunday is no more defeated by sugary pastries and cream-filled buns — where he crumbles to incorrigible pieces inside are moments like this, before a different species of sweetness. That, is another discovery altogether.

While he's left to collect and fix the bits back into rational human behavior, you revel in his predicament, as you do every time he lets slip an extra scrap of leniency. You don't hesitate to praise him for his cruelty, but he's always suspected you to be the sadist. A devil, a siren, an apparition that'll curse him to smithereens — there's no end to your list of virtues. It's not that he complains, that would be hypocritical as he's both the causation and correlation to your spirited schemes.

It's one of those burgers, but Sunday has always cherished a belief of it being the failed offspring between a donut and a burger instead. He's seen them his whole life (not that he's ever indulged in one of them) which is why the apparent normalcy of its appearance didn't ring any alarm bells in his head initially. One look into your pointed stare tells him that you have a purpose, but his attention is instead riveted to the movements of your lips.

You start by taking a bite out of the bread coated in cream, smearing your lips with the delicacy in the process before clumsily licking the cream with a swipe of your tongue ; Sunday stands frozen, thoroughly perplexed. Then, you lean towards the middle section occupied by two wing-like shapes, checking once to confirm that he was still watching before sinking your teeth into one of them.

... Oh.

It takes every atom of his body and every bit of his soul to continue playing statue, to not let anything more than a strangled breath escape and allow your face to be painted in the colors of smug satisfaction for months to come. Knowing you, he doubts you're ignorant to the fact that this time you've really hit a spot. So he stands there like a sculpture of disbelief, watching you finish the cursed burger for five whole minutes as vehicles fly past and by-standers cast questioning looks at the mute spectacle. By the time you're sated, he feels as though he's aged ten years.

“Mr. Sunday will pay for it, thank you!” you chirp at the confused shop keeper.

Just when he thinks his misery is over, you pull your ace ; licking clean the residual taste of the burger from your fingers, knowing painstakingly well how much he dislikes it. This level of audacity short-circuits Sunday's brain and he's unable to do anything but replay the image of a stray sprinkle still clinging to one corner of your lips as you skip away in search of more ways to torture him senseless.

[jisuto]

[daturabouquet]

Dottie will definitely be the type of husband who's rude with you and doesn't show affection but when you don't give him attention he will only be jealous of the thing you're giving attention to it like imagine getting a cat and playing with it the whole day forgetting that you have a grumpy jealous silly doctor😭😭-

THAT'S SO CUTE 😭 he's so adorable without knowing it when he gets jealous (he's so silly ur right anon)

Reader: /is having fun playing with a cat/

Dottore, after being a bitch to you for the last 48 hours: 😡

and I think Dot would glare at the cat the second you look away like it did something wrong.

he has beef with the cat here I'll give you an illustration:

[pinkmirth]

I think we need some headcanons of cowboy Reiner

— ( save a horse, ride a cowboy! )

༉‧₊˚. — synopsis: just a cluster of fluffy and smutty headcanons for none other than the love of my life, cowboy reiner!

༉‧₊˚. — contains: (2k words of…) cowboy!reiner x fem!reader, (black coded), fluff, nsfw/smut, modern au, southern setting, established relationship (married), fantasies of having a child, breeding kink (‘cause this is reiner we’re talking about duh!), mentions of pregnancy, bondage kink, oral (m!receiving/blowjob), cowgirl position, doggy-style, creampie, reiner calls himself “daddy”, use of the petnames (mama, sugar, darling, honey, cowgirl), reiner calls you “woman” once, lowercase intended, minors shoo!

༉‧₊˚. — mira’s note: oh absolutely, nonnie! here are some thoughts I have on cowboy rei-rei 💕 (check masterlist for other reiner fics!)

this man is always covered head-to-toe in classic cowboy attire— embroidered cowboy boots, blue denim jeans with a lasso hanging from his belt loop, and a trusty old cowboy hat. he’s got the whole getup, and he looks even sexier in it every time you see him! though, his best look by far is the shirtless one. it’s the highlight of your day when whenever it gets too warm outside, because he’s soon to peel off his top. from across the farm, he can feel your eyes burning into his lightly-tanned skin as he does the most mundane chores. his muscles tense and flex with every move, pecs gleaming with sweat. he shoots you a smirk, folding his arms across his bare chest. “y’like what ya see, honey?” you pray the weather’s even hotter tomorrow.

it warms his heart whenever you come around to watch him do his daily chores around the farm. your presence motivates him to work harder, so he can continue to provide for you and sustain your comfortable lifestyle. you try not to be too much of a distraction, but you can’t help wanting to be closer to your husband; so you tug at his leather belt and pull him in for a kiss. that gets him giddy like nothing else. “ya know how much i love it when y’do that… gimme another,” he puckers his lips, and you giggle. “i don’t wanna keep you sidetracked for too long, rei. you were busy before i got here,” you caress his stubbled cheek and he pouts in response, leaning forward to receive another pillowy kiss. “jus’ one more, mama.”

cowboy reiner loves to cook and bake! he often goes on farmer’s market dates with you, walking hand in hand as you help him pick out the freshest ingredients and spices. you chat and laugh amongst one another, dropping carrots and apples into the hand-woven basket that reiner made for you. after arriving back home, he allows you to relax in yours and his shared bedroom while he whips together a hearty southern meal for the two of you. he shouts from across the house, adorned in nothing but a short pair of checkered boxers and a flimsy apron, “supper’s ready, darlin’! come on down ‘n eat!”

he’s great with animals! reiner cradles an adorable month-old horse in his strong arms, feeding milk to the baby with a soft smile. it’s just about the sweetest thing you could ever see! all the little foals follow him around the ranch because they love papa reiner just as much as you do <3 he’s built something of a connection between himself and his beloved herd, which is why he’s able to bring the horses over to their stables with no hassle whatsoever. this man could practically be a veterinarian with all the animal knowledge he has!

he’s a locally known rodeo champion! reiner wins the prize for longest bull-riding every single year. he should allow someone else a fighting chance, at least 😭 but he’s just effortlessly good at anything he puts his mind to! he skillfully rides the beast with such ease, leaving the crowd in awe. courtesy of his natural-born strength, he hardly ever gets tossed off. reiner’s got medals galore hanging on his wall from every competition.

as a southern man, he’s very family-oriented. his loved ones are of the utmost importance to him, and he’ll always put family first before anything else. he utterly adores you, and can’t wait to start a tiny lil family of his own with you <3 when I tell you this man cannot wait to be a papa, I mean it! there’s no denying that reiner would be an amazing father, considering that he’s so caring and attentive. he knows the best tickle spots to target, and the silliest faces to make to get a child cracking up (both of which he discovered through spending lots of time with gabi when she was small.) he constantly daydreams about dressing up his little one in tiny boots and overalls and carrying them up on his shoulders. (yes, I’m pushing the daddy rei-rei agenda on this fine weekend!)

cowboy reiner has manners like none other— the epitome of a true gentleman! he’s a great listener, is always so patient, opens doors for you, pays for your things without hesitation, gives frequent massages, carries you when you begin to feel tired; the list goes on! he’s just so kind and selfless, and never fails to show it. cowboy rei-rei is truly the perfect husband. “your feet hurt? well c’mere, sugar. i’ll carry you. it ain’t too much for me, y’know i can handle ya! jus’ hold onto me. i gotcha, okay?”

cowboy reiner is a grown man who can wholly appreciate your body and every striking detail about it. he scrutinizes the small dotted beauty marks scattered across your skin, your cutely patterned stretch marks, the curves and crevices of your soft tummy and thighs, and he fucking loves it all. makes it a habit to kiss up and down your body, just to give you a well-needed confidence boost. this man right here surely knows how to make a woman feel special! “listen t’me— you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, y’know that?”

(nsfw) — reiner loves when you treat him to a surprise blowie during work. he’s up to the usual, arranging things around the barn and tending to the animals. you then make your entrance, wrapping your arms around his waist to hug him from behind. your plump lips curve into a sensual smile as you ask him, “can I steal you for a moment, baby? it won’t be for too long, I swear it.” in an instant, he's allowing you to pull him away from his duties, unknowing of where you’re taking him, but also uncaring because he’d allow you to do whatever you please. he follows you with the goofiest smile plastered on his charming face, because he knows that he’s about to receive the most knee-buckling blowjob of his entire goddamn life. you bring him into the hayloft, pushing him against the red-painted wall until he’s flat against it. you drop to your knees and bring his jeans down with you. “fuck, darlin’… kiss the tip ‘fa me.” he moans lowly. you do as he wishes, suckling on his cockhead with the most beautiful, glistening eyes. you’re so eager to please, and it makes him throb on your tongue. with a hand at the back of your head, he guides you further onto him until you’ve swallowed the entirety of his fat dick. reiner ruts his hips, fucking into your wet mouth. you always know just how to make him feel so good, so loved. he adores you like nothing else. “oh, that’s it, honey, right there… atta girl.”

(nsfw) — the bondage kink on this man is insane, I tell you! cowboy reiner loves to keep your hands tied behind your back and watch you squirm against the rope. “rei,” in a breathless whine, his name falls from your plush lips. you wiggle your ass in the air for him, anticipating his next move. he takes you from the back, raw-dogging your pussy with a merciless pace. you truly wonder where he gets all this unparalleled energy to drill you into the bed, especially considering all the hard work he puts into maintaining the farm every day. one large hand of his stays planted on your waist, hastily grabbing, while the other holds onto your tied hands for leverage. he delivers harsh, deep-reaching thrusts, with his firm hips sharply smacking against you from behind. your wrists struggle against the rope, and he can tell just how desperate you are to touch him. his gaze is fixated on your soft body; every jiggle of your ass and ripple of your thighs is more hypnotizing than the last. you mewl for him, stuttering out something along the lines of ‘t—too much!’ … reiner leans down until his chest grazes the arch of your back, so that he can say, “quit alla-that whinin’, woman.” he clicks his teeth, flooding your ears with that sexy southern drawl of his. “y’can take it all, you’ve done it before.”

(nsfw) — we all know it, the entire goddamn fandom knows it: cowboy reiner has a massive fucking breeding kink! he wants nothing more than to get you pregnant by stuffing your pliant womb with his thick loads of cum. giving you a creampie makes him go completely wild; he watches his seed drip down your slit with hitched breath. a sight such as that is enough to get him hard all over again. the lust takes over, and he’s thinking with his dick for the next three rounds. plowing into you and rubbing at your puffed clit with calloused fingertips, reiner asks, “want me to come inside you? hm?” he gently holds onto your chin, directing your gaze to him. you dazedly look at your husband, pulsing around his thick cock. seeing how fucked-out you are makes his chest swell with the utmost pride. his greatest achievement is being able to please you. “tell me how bad y’fuckin’ want it, baby.” he rasps. your pleading moans urge him to release for you. his warm, pearly arousal seeps into you for the nth time that night. all he wants is to fill you up until you’re walking funny, with your leg shaking from all the stimulation. or, at least until that little stick comes out positive one day. having you grow plump with his child is his ultimate fantasy. “you’d look so stunnin’ as a mama, carryin’ my baby… don’t’cha think so, sugar?”

(nsfw) — reiner likes to let you wear his cowboy hat while you ride him. mounting onto your husband with your legs on either side of his hips, you straddle him. your dainty hands are planted on his broad chest for balance. he pulls off his iconic hat, hair cutely tousled from wearing it all day, before sitting up to place it on your head. “since you’ll be the one ridin’ tonight. giddyup, cowgirl.” he teases with a slick grin. you tip the hat with a breathy laugh before sinking down on his fat dick, maintaining sharp eye contact with him as your throbbing cunt takes him in little by little, until your clit’s grounded and snug against the dark-blonde tufts of his happy trail. his warm palms rub along your body as you swivel your hips, slamming down on all nine girthy inches that he has to offer. he watches your tits bounce, one manicured hand of yours squeezing at your left boob while the other holds onto his hat that rests upon the crown of your head. you rock back and forth with fervor, and he swears he can feel every spongy ridge of your contracting pussy. he throws his head back onto the pillows and gazes at you with the prettiest set of honey-golden eyes, hooded and lust-blown. gravelly moans fall past his agape lips as he spurs you on, giving your ass a thorough smack, “bounce on it, jus’ like that— yeah, fuck daddy’s cock.”

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

hear me out. uni student/barista au suguru and regular (also sleep deprived) yn.

hearing you out in all the ways my ears are capable of anon …… this is one of my fav aus for him . always. (cat i am looking directly at you)

suguru who works part time at a little café and notices you come in early morning and late at night… always either right when the store opens or when there’s only an hour left until closing . sometimes you’re waiting outside when he gets there by bike, and he greets you with a polite smile, watching you give him a sleepy little bow of your head :(((( i think he’s instantly a little enamored . always makes your drink with extra care because he knows you need it by the way you’re just abt to fall asleep in your seat lmao….. he admires how hard you work!!!!!!!!

i think it’d be cute if you drank so much coffee that he eventually gets worried 😭😭 like . that can’t be good for your poor heart . so one evening you’re sipping the last of your espresso with bags under your eyes, contemplating buying another one (with your already crumbling budget)….. and barista!sugu walks over to your table with a paper cup in hand :3c warm herbal tea . on the house, he says . your brain is too fried to deny it so you let him place it in your hands…… and even though it doesn’t satiate your coffee craving, it makes you feel so warm .

you sleep extra well that night <333 and the next morning you wait outside the café again, thanking him with a shy smile when he arrives, before hesitantly ordering another slightly less caffeinated beverage……. missing the way his lips curl up into a pleased little smile . not sure if he’d successfully de-caffeinate you or just make the coffee addiction worse but either way your budget stays strained and your heart stays full <333333 (save me barista!sugu)

[chellodello]

I would love to see your take on "Understand My Ship In Five Minutes" with ZADR ^_^

Because of the Zimvoid, I like to think we have a 'citadel or ricks' type situation where everyone's interpretation of them is just as canon as all the others. I lovingly refer to mine as Zim and Dib FZ-109. (F because the Florpus Keikaku happened in their world, Z because Zim get taken into the Zimvoid, and 109 because that was his rank amongst the Zims.)

Because of all that they're a bit more codependent than other versions of them, who have moved past fighting each other over earth to mostly bickering and fucking around on space adventures.

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

i feel like xavier loooves quiet subs .. no loud or exaggerated moans just sweet quiet whimpers n whines that only he would ever get to hear :(

omg anonie i love this bc you get me... he has the vibes !! 😭🙌 there's just something about him that exudes quiet quiet nights of passion, and perhaps that's why i tend to write him so soft,,, BUT. i think even when he's being rough he'd still rather have you whimpering into your pillow. he'd tell you to muffle your moans if you have to, just to stop yourself from being loud... because at least if you're a little more quiet, you can focus more on his whispers in your ear and all the pleasure he's giving you, just the same way he can focus on your sounds and the way he's the only one who will ever ever hear them 🤲🤲 and honestly that's very hot of him <3 i'll be quiet for you xavi <3

[yaksha-lover]

You know.. Since in canon Rollo probably has some level of self-loathing since he hated magic as a MAGE (I.e someone who USES magic), maybe in the vampire au, Rollo could be a dhampir (half vampire, half human)? He absolutely despises his vampire heritage, and because of that he refuses to take even an ounce of blood from anyone because that would make him no better than them. But, due to that, he's always thirsty, constantly repressing the bloodlust itching at the back of his mind. Yet.. yet..when he finally has you in grasp.. Gods you smell wonderful. His pupils are blown wide, drool dripping from the corners of his mouth, stomach growling and moaning like a starving tiger. He's glad he filed down his fangs, otherwise he might not have been able to resist biting into that beautiful soft flesh of yours... Doesn't mean he's not giving you so nice open mouth kisses on your throat and wrists though.

He’s been good, resisted every temptation in front of him, passed every test from his god. His condition is undesirable but ultimately unchangeable. He hasn’t been greedy, not like the filthy beasts who seek to gratify themselves with blood.

He’s been restrained, perfectly in control of himself despite the hunger that gnaws at him hour upon hour. It’s an art in itself, the way he’s numbed himself to the scent and allure of human blood. Despite his ravenous appetite, he can hold himself together just fine in the presence of it.

That is, until he meets you. Your blood’s never even been exposed to him through a wound, but every moment he’s around you, it calls to him. The sound of your resting heartbeat is far too loud, drowning out all other noise. All other blood was like gruel to him, but yours smelled of ambrosia.

At first it’s enough to catch a whiff of your blood, to place kisses and covert licks upon your throat, your wrists, your thighs.

It’s enough, until it’s not. Until Rollo starts convincing himself that you’re not like the others. You’re not a test but a blessing, a sweet reward for all of his devotion and piety. A gift prepared just for him, meant to satiate his endless thirst, the only one he can feed off of forever.

[fatuismooches]

omg omg how would fragile reader use foxtorre in gameplay? idk why the first thing i thought of is reader throwing it at their enemies but they wouldnt do that 😭 im suddenly thinking how their gameplay would be like, their vision, their idles, etc... IF YOU COULD PLEASE MAKE VOICELINES FOR THEM I THINK IT WOULD BE COOL

Fragile reader throws the creature onto the field to do the work for them! Depending on whether their skill is held or tapped, Foxttore will summon multiple little Puffttores that will attack enemies to heal the team or do damage, based on reader’s current HP. Using the skill also consumes a set amount of fragile reader's HP. But using their burst will let them recover HP, as they will steal a certain percentage of HP from their fellow party members. All they want to be is healthy, they can be a little selfish, no? But fragile reader isn’t that mean, they’ll grant the party members who they stole HP from a random buff (ATK, crit rate/dmg, EM, etc) so they can sit back and relax as the others fight for them. And no, they won’t steal HP from Dottore or another Harbinger on the team, that’s their beloved and their friends after all! But they can’t do elemental reactions, they don’t want that horrid thing from Celestia and even if they got one they would refuse to use it. (But I still have hope another element will be added, I cannot see Dottore using a Vision HE BETTER NOT he’s stronger than that 😞)

Their idles include pulling out Foxttore and squeezing it really tightly, and then they suddenly pause for a few seconds as they feel something fuzzy moving inside of their shirt... and then a few small Puffttores jump out of their clothes making them laugh :) Another one, i imagine they carry around a small bag to hold their necessary items (such as medication) but also to bring around a scrapbook they've made with all their memories. Lots of photos and journal entries spanning many years. They pull it out and flip through it, before sighing almost sadly and putting it away again. Their BIS weapon is the same one from centuries ago, Dottore had preserved it for all those years so they could use it once again (not really though because they wobble all over the place if you use their normal attacks)

Hello: "I am [Name]. I doubt I'll be much help to you, but I'm here now. By the way, I won't do anything I don't want to. If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with Dottore."

About the Archons: "... Do not mention them in front of me... it makes me sick to my stomach, thinking about the divine. However, there is one exception - the Tsaritsa of course. She is truly the epitome of what a God should be, benevolent and kind. I may not be able to help much, but I will support her until the end. When you meet her, Traveler, I hope you will understand her goals."

About the Illness: "Ah, my sickness... it has plagued me for countless years, laying a horrible curse upon my body and mind. It's... it's been quite difficult sometimes... er, forgive me. It's hard to speak about."

"Oh... to be honest, Paimon always thought you were faking it for the Fatui's goals to some extent."

"... this is why I only confide in Dottore."

About Dottore: "My one and only... words cannot express my tenderness and love toward him. Not once has he given up on me, despite the times I've given up on myself. And he has always taken care of me, not once faltering in over four hundred years. I- I don't know what to do sometimes when faced with that information. I wish I could be... less of a burden on him... *sigh*"

About the Akademiya: "Say, does anything good come out of that school anymore? Hm? You say a brilliant mage graduated from there and is now a librarian? Well, good for her. Who would want to be associated with them anyway? And there's also a doctor who's very sick, searching for the answer to immortality? Well now... how interesting."

About the Past: "You wish to know about my past? Well, there's not too much to say. I was a regular student in the Akademiya before I met Dottore, and we fell in love... we did many things together before I... It's not like it matters anymore, being the way I am now..."

Chat - The Body: “One’s body is extremely important, yet many take it for granted. Please, make sure to treasure and love your body. It does more for you than you could ever imagine.”

Chat - Walks: "I love taking walks. It seems so normal to you but, it brings me great happiness. Especially now... I have not felt the sun caress my body or the soft breeze sweep through my hair for a long, long time. Hm? I don't mind if you come with, but... Dottore will be joining me shortly. Would you like to see him? No? Hehe."

When it Rains: "Oh no... do you have an umbrella? Dottore's going to- a-achoo!- get mad at me for not taking care of myself properly..."

Likes - Dancing: "O-oh. You saw me just now? I was just... practicing. I'm not very good at it, but dancing with Dottore as he twirls me around makes me... happy. I just need to stop tripping and falling over his feet all the time."

Nahida - About You: "You've met the Doctor's spouse? Please, would you enlighten me about them some more? I have always been extremely curious about the kind of person who would capture his attention. Hmm... I see. Still sick, are they? Perhaps Dottore sees something in them that the rest of us cannot. Though, I have to commend their spirit. Being able to wake up every day and face what's in front of them while being afflicted with such a condition... takes a strong will."

[canisalbus]

hi your art has for the longest time rendered me to utter shreds. nary a piece of me left untouched by the papershredder that ur blog is to my brain. what do you MEAN the thorny sickly looking one is getting held close to a warm chest at night what do you MEAN shopping in modern au together what do you MEAN reunion after 17 years sticking ur stupid snout into another mans neck I'm ILL . I'm ILL about this. and your art style is . ohhhhh. speechless your color work and line work is like honey and i am a stupid little ant getting lost in it

p o e t r y

[eeblouissant]

IDK how to attach links or pics but looking at the dress style you use for your Dorothy you must look at Bea's dresses for awards ceremonies (there's a deep red one that's just,,,,) and the one she wore for her special (the leg slit!!!!).

hi anon, I think about the dresses (and SUITS… oh dear lord) that Bea has worn to different events Regularly. Have some Dorothy’s wearing various dresses that bea has worn that I adore :)

[sukisukidaysook]

from ur art req post perhaps a dahlia and iris switcheroo situation as in roles are reversed ? :3

THE BRAINWORMS YOU GAVE ME… I had been trying to figure out how to make an Iris/Dahlia roleswap interesting for a while… I finally cracked it.

“Sister Dahlia” is still cynical and calculating, as that’s just how she copes with the world around her. She is pessimistic, and even at the temple she has resentment for the Fey family and only really has love for her sister, who she was separated from. She follows Iris’s orders with dedication and precision, even being willing to disguise as her when the time comes.

“Iris Hawthorne” is still sweet and sensitive, but there is a certain coldness to her. Her personality is NOT an act… but she instead developed this twisted savior complex, where she justifies her crimes as being “for the greater good��� and “to save Dahlia”. She is kind and forgiving… which makes her actions all the more sick to bear.

[boundinparchment]

Sway With Me

A clash of egos over the annual Winter Ball results in an attempt to display that, on occasion, the land of Cryo was capable of thawing every once in a while. Dottore x GN Reader || ArchiveOfOurOwn Dance Reference 1 Dance Reference 2

“Remind me again what this is for?”

“Charity,” Dottore spat, as if the word was the filthiest thing he’d ever said.  

It certainly wasn’t, at least according to the average person with average moral decency and a sense of humanity.  You would know.  After all, you were the most capable of his assistants in the past several years.  

All you knew was that Dottore’s latest round of funding (and therefore your paycheck) was contingent upon the next few weeks. 

It all started with an invitation for the Tsaritsa’s annual winter ball and a clash of egos.  Regrator, upon hearing the Knave once again take a verbal stab at her fellow Harbingers, proposed leveraging the social event as a chance for fundraising for House of the Hearth and to show that, perhaps, the nation of Cryo was capable of thawing every once in a while.

Dottore came back from that meeting, fuming.  Very rarely did you ever see him lose his temper as his younger Segments tended to but he proceeded to sweep his arm across his desk, ranting all the while about wastes of time and how far behind such antics would put him.  He’d ignored the first two notes sent to him regarding the event; he hadn’t even read them, simply tossed them without a second glance.

The third was hand-delivered by Pantalone himself with a very real threat on Dottore’s coffers and future funding.  The Ninth simply gave you a wave and a smile on his departure, leaving you to deal with the consequences of his actions.  

One of which was your presence.  Here.  In the ballroom.  Next to your boss.  In front of two dance instructors who were very clearly not expecting to be teaching a Fatui Harbinger.

Dottore hadn’t even asked for your help.  He’d simply demanded you come with him, dodging questions left, right, and center all the while.  You didn’t need to know; the answer was irrelevant; if you liked being paid, you would stop wasting energy on asking questions about the wrong things.

Not out of the ordinary for you.  

But this…

This situation was definitely outside of your job description.

But so was about a third of the tasks you managed ever since the Anemo Gnosis arrived.

The instructors introduced themselves and then shared a look you knew too well upon realizing who was standing in front of them.  Dottore made people uncomfortable by nature and although polite, he did not bother with pleasantries.  He wanted to be out of here as soon as convenient and he didn’t try to hide it.

“Every Harbinger will be showcasing a specific type of dance, according to the event plans of the Tsaritsa Herself,” one instructor said.  “You, Lord Harbinger, will be dancing bachata with a partner of your choosing.”

That meant you, apparently.

He really had to drag you up here for this?

They explained some of the basic technicalities of the style.  Partners could dance in an open position, connected only by hands, or a closed position with body support or contact with one another.  The actual dance style was a sequence performed in a full 8-count while moving in a square; three steps and then a tap with a pop of the hips or a step syncopation with the opposite foot of the last step.  Most of the movement was in the lower body, between hip motions and footwork, which allowed for better hand and arm communication to be conveyed, both for leading and in the expressiveness of the dance.

You were only familiar with a basic waltz, the occasional tango, but you got the sense that this would be vastly different than the usual styles you saw.  Glancing in your peripheral vision, you couldn’t make out Dottore’s expression (what else was new?) but you caught a twitch of his lips and a shift in posture that made him stand taller than he already was.

The instructors began their demonstration, speaking all the while, changing between open and closed position.  Some steps involved upper body contact not uncommon with a waltz but those were often paired with one’s leg between another's.  Legs and hips never stopped moving.

It was far more sensual than you were expecting.  

Your heart raced and you tried to steady your breathing.  Working closely with Dottore was one thing.  You could deal with brushing arms or him reaching over you to grab something or point out a specific section to focus on.

When work was involved, it was easy to ignore the hint of mint and slight musk that lingered, that your skin burned where he touched you.

This was going to be a disaster.

“I am going to strangle Regrator,” Dottore muttered as the instructors continued.

“He'll hear you coming.  I’ll lure him into a false sense of security and give you a window of opportunity.”

The low chuckle was music to your ears, the tension easing as amusement distracted both of you.  It was just work, you reminded yourself.  Another experiment.  That was all.

“I wouldn’t trust anyone else for this,” he said quietly.  “Regrator is using this as a chance to take everyone down a peg.  I need my best assistant so I don’t look like an absolute fool.”

It was the closest to a compliment you would get out of him, especially right now.  You could only nod before the instructors finished and pulled both of you aside to work independently and teach you the basics.  Music came from a gramophone nearby.  

You were paired with a lead, your body nudged this way and that to bend your knees and get you into position.  Slowly, you got used to the subtle communication required, feeling more than seeing, but you were still too stiff.  Your hips recognized the beat well enough but not as smoothly as the dance required.

And from what you could see, your boss seemed to be experiencing the same, although he was far more practiced.  Years of being a diplomat and having to put on graceful airs, you imagined.

“Footwork won’t be an issue,” your instructor said.  “Both of you understand the techniques and are on beat.  It means we can focus on other components.”

You stole a glance towards the other instructor who stepped back from the Harbinger and said, “Bachata doesn’t work well if the dancers don’t work together.  We’ll start with the basic steps.”

Oh.

Oh.

That meant…

It’s just work, you reminded yourself.  No different than a Ruin Guard construction or any biological research or…

Dottore took up the starting position with ease, taking your hands in his.  His leather gloves were warm, a sharp contrast given the temperatures down in the lab.  Maybe too warm.  

The music started up again and you followed his lead; it was easier this time, given you knew how to read him and anticipate the next motion.  His expression was unreadable, mouth flat, and from the angle of his head, you could only surmise he was shifting his gaze slightly from you to the rest of the room every now and again.  Like a student waiting to be dismissed.

Mentally, you counted the steps, tried to time the movement of your hips on the fourth.  Without his usual coat, you couldn’t help but admire his shirt, a rich deep blue, clearly tailored to him.  Were his shoulders always that broad?

Dottore squeezed one of your hands and you snapped out of your thoughts just as you misstepped a second too early several times.

“You’re off beat,” he said, as if he was simply making a passing comment about a lab methodology.  “I expected more focus from my best assistant.”

He corrected your rhythm and you were back on beat, mentally counting to yourself again all the while.

“I expected you to walk out of the room by now, bemoaning how much time you wasted.”

“And risk Pantalone dropping in and daring to further withhold funding?”  He scoffed.  “I think not.”

“You could have sent a Segment.”

You felt his hands tighten around yours and he pulled you a little closer, into a semi-closed stance, just enough distance between you to be proper.  You watched the corner of his lip twitch in displeasure at the idea.

“If you want something done correctly, you must do it yourself and handle the consequences accordingly.  A Segment would do me little good when I have to be the one to perform, after all.”

He had a good point.  A Segment could learn and he could memorize the associated memories but the muscle memory was a different story.  It was akin to watching someone fight and then assuming just based on that alone one knew what they were doing.

Before you could reply, the instructors intervened and the rest of the session was spent on building upon the foundation.  By the end, you managed a basic rendition of the dance, although more than once your thoughts trailed off and Dottore had to correct your timing.  The first time was passable but judging from how straight his shoulders were, he was frustrated once again.

Not exactly your fault, considering he didn’t even ask for your help and he simply assumed you would do well at this.

He stalked off far ahead of you when the session was over and you didn’t see him for the rest of the afternoon or evening.  The only indication that the whole thing wasn’t a fever dream was the scribbled note on your desk the next morning when you arrived in the lab after breakfast: you were to make room in your schedule for daily practice at the end of your day until further notice.

You were so filing for retroactive overtime when all of this was over.

And maybe submitting vacation time while you were at it.

____________________

It wasn’t that bad, provided Dottore was in a decent mood.  When the two of you were alone, it worked.  And after the first few days, your timing was far better and you managed to remain on-beat.  

Being closer to him down here, just the two of you, wasn’t as much of an ordeal for your nervous system.  Your pulse still raced and your stomach constantly felt as though it was a yo-yo but that was nothing new.  Simply inconvenient.

“You are too self-aware at times,” Dottore remarked on the third day, lifting the needle on the gramophone.  His back was to you.  “And it prevents you from honing in on the priority.  You are simultaneously too focused on making sure everything is correct and tailoring what others see from you.”

“How can I not be when I know that we have to do this in front of an entire crowd and the Tsaritsa Herself?” you shot back, frustration and exhaustion throwing the last of your patience out of the window.

It’d been a grueling day.  One of the long-term subjects had taken a turn for the worse with no indication and the autopsy Dottore performed yielded nothing of note.  The disease they came to Snezhnaya in an attempt to be rid of had finally consumed them and the project was back at square one.  Then, you were pulled away from the lab to be measured and fitted for an outfit for the ball.  You had been playing catch-up ever since.

His lecture was the last thing you needed.

“This whole thing isn’t even about me,” you continued.  “You said it yourself that you trusted me with this for the sake of your ego.  Why wouldn’t I—”

He glanced at you over his shoulder, his mask obscuring his eyes.  “If your mind isn’t present, your body won’t follow.”

“My point still stands, Dottore.”

I’m doing this for you.

Your heart was in your throat as the thought raced through your mind.  Not now.  Emotion wasn’t necessary.  

At this point, you had no doubt that he was at least aware that you held him in high regard for more than just professional reasons.  It was easier to hide when you had the guise of work to hide behind.

Not that this wasn’t work.

But dancing didn’t involve data and trial sets and various questionable substances.  It was outside of your realm of normality with him.  Dancing was emotion brought to life and in your opinion, there was a reason it was an art.  

He looked back down at the arm and needle he still held, the record spinning silently.  You couldn’t tell what he was thinking but you knew from his posture and the twitch of his mouth that he was considering something.

“I wish to test something,” he said at last.  “Humor me a little while longer.  I greatly dislike the choreography but I don’t believe there’s anything to be done about that until we’ve resolved something more immediate.”

Dottore placed the needle back and the gramophone gave a hiss of static before the track started again.  You found yourself back in the starting position, his hands in yours, falling into step with ease.  Your muscles knew the movement by heart by now.

“What you fail to realize is that it is about you, in the end,” he said softly.  “Your dedication to wanting to do your best is admirable, it’s certainly the envy of other Harbingers who have far less diligent individuals in their employ.”

One hand let go of you as you both stepped back, stepped forward again, and your joined hands raised, putting you into a spin.  Dottore caught you with ease, stepped off to the side, and used your joined hands to spin himself around in turn before coming back and catching your other hand again.

He continued, “I’ve given you a task that requires far more trust than what has been provided and I believe it is…resulting in you holding yourself back.”

You swore you felt your heart stop and simply drop down to your feet for a moment.  You tilted your head as you looked at him, curious, if not a little wary.  The Second Harbinger putting his ego aside for a moment was both endearing and incredibly dangerous.  

He paused for a moment, bringing the dancing to a sudden stop, and brought your hands up to his mask.  His fingers positioned yours to show you the release for the accessory, revealing the rest of his visage to you.

His eyes were the color of poppies and fresh blood, bright, shining and a little unnerving.  You couldn’t have imagined a better color, truthfully.  The skin around his eyes and across the bridge of his nose bore scars, deep slashes that healed poorly.  They were not clean cuts, not the kind you were used to seeing done by his hand; they must have been brutal to endure, let alone treat.

His hands pulled away for a moment, leaving you holding the mask, looking up at him.  Everything about him was already striking but to finally have the complete picture…

“I can hardly say that I trust you if I haven’t shown you my face, now can I?”

Everything that came to mind when you looked at him was hardly appropriate for a lab assistant to say.  You could stare into his eyes for hours, days even, lost in them.  A part of you had always been curious about his nose, what the rest of his face looked like.

You placed the mask on a nearby table, out of reach, and turned back to Dottore, the music playing quietly.  Although the skin looked as if it healed to the best of its abilities, you couldn’t help but wonder if it still caused him more discomfort than they seemed to.  

“Do they hurt?” you asked, stepping closer to him.

“No.  They haven’t in some time.”

He guided your hands carefully and placed your fingers across the marred flesh, silent permission for you to explore.  Gently, you traced each of them, his face warm beneath your touch.  He closed his eyes and you swore you heard a feather-soft sigh fall from his lips.

Did he like this?

“What happened?”

“Some in my village believed that my eyes were an omen.  After I grew past the age most receive a Vision, and as I grew more bold with my claims against the Divine after my expulsion, a careless individual took it upon themselves to rid me of my eyes in hopes of releasing whatever curse they thought I carried with me.  I ended his life before he could finish but by then, the damage was done.”

Your hand cupped his cheek and you watched as he leaned ever so slightly into your hand.

“They were fools,” you whispered.  “You’re incredibly beautiful, Dottore.”

“Zandik.”

Crimson eyes flickered open and watched you for a moment.  You felt as if you might combust and melt all at once from such a deep gaze.

“My name is Zandik,” he repeated.

You ran the syllables over your tongue and he corrected you on the inflection.  Once again, your heart jumped, pleased with the secret you now shared.  

“I take it, then, that this is one of those moments where you threaten to kill me if I tell anyone what you look like?” you teased.

A small smile tugged at his lips.  “I see little need for threats.  You know what I’m capable of.”

“My brain’s a little foggy.  Perhaps you should remind me.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t have a dance partner, now would I?”

Before you could reply, Zandik reset the record player and captured your hands again, pulling you into a semi-closed position this time, your bodies closer.

“I trust you.  Entirely.  Now…are you ready to try this again?”

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his, as you began to dance again, this time your head and your heart aligned.  Perfectly in-sync.

____________________

You’d never attended the Winter Ball before, at least not in this capacity.  Every Fatuus was required to attend but for the most part, the event was intended for the heads of state, important merchants, and foreign dignitaries more than it was the average member of the Fatui.  The Zapolyarny Palace’s ballroom had been transformed from the usual empty echo chamber into one of the most crowded rooms you could recall in recent memory.

Regrator had charged admission after initial invitations for appropriate guests had been sent out, which likely created an air of exclusivity.  All under the guise of fundraising, per the argument that sparked with Arlecchino.  Dottore scoffed when he saw the approved invitation and remarked that fundraising didn’t need to resort to such foolish antics.

As disgruntled as he was, however, you got the sense that he was enjoying the practice sessions.  After the first week, upon seeing his true face, you found yourself looking forward to such moments with him.  You lost count of the hours you spent on choreography, on tailoring the dance to suit both of you; you were a unit, two individuals working together to form one cohesive picture.  An experiment in motion.

Normally on such an occasion, you’d be dressed in your uniform and milling about with semi-familiar faces.  But this time, you were dressed in reflection of your Harbinger.  His white suit, immaculate in its tailoring and its pristine color, was accented with shades of blue; in turn, your outfit used the same colors as the main focus.  Both outfits were designed to complement one another and as you looked around, you saw this was the case for all participating Harbingers.  

The fine fabric was smooth and cool to the touch and the curious looks you received from other members of the noble class made you thankful for the mask that covered the top half of your face.  The anonymity was comforting among unfamiliar faces and hidden intentions.  No one needed to know who you were.

When it finally came time for the main event, you found yourself thankful for Dottore’s rank as Second Harbinger; you wouldn’t have to wait as long as the others to get this over with.  You tried to steady your hands as you were guided to the center of the room, hoping Dottore couldn’t sense that your nerves were truly beginning to get the better of you now that you saw the scale of the crowd.  The Tsaritsa, too, watched from above, her face impassive but her eyes alight, like candles spotted in windows during a blizzard.

You exhaled as you flicked your gaze up to Dottore’s masked face and you caught the smallest glimpse of a reassuring smile.

Before you could speak, the music began and your feet took the first steps of their own accord, right on beat.  Dottore’s left hand took yours as you draped an arm around his shoulder, his other hand pressed against your back, keeping you in a closed position as you spun around once.  His leg was between yours, only for a few seconds, both of your hips swaying to the beat with ease.  He let you go long enough to work in steps in an open position; you followed his lead as he raised your arm to spin you and bring you back into a closed position in one smooth motion.  

You could never get used to that, being pressed up against him like that.  As much as your mind tried to tell you it was work, your body and your heart knew otherwise.

A hand squeezed yours and you caught yourself before you moved off-beat.  

“The crowd is irrelevant.  Focus on me.  This is no different than what we’ve been rehearsing,” he said quietly.

“This was what we were working towards, Zandik,” you remarked.  “It’s very different.”

“In which case, I fully expect you to stop holding yourself back and give in to whatever you keep repressing.”

The smirk on his lips was a familiar one, the same as when he presented you with a challenging problem he already knew the solution to.  It was the same smirk that infuriated you almost daily.

So that’s how it was, then.  He did, after all, show you his true self; it would only be right to do the same, whatever came of it.

Your heart was in your throat the entire time and all you could focus on reading the subtle gestures and cues from Dottore as he led both of you.  Your hips moved a little more than usual as you were swept away by the beat and you swore you were dancing closer than usual whenever he pulled you in, as if he didn’t want to let you go.

You were so caught up that the crowd faded away and all you were left with was one another.  You weren’t sure if it was the outfit or the energy but your dips and sways were elegant, never stopping.  Each movement flowed into the next, as you’d planned, all of your focus honing in on the footwork and lower body motion required.  

Some were far more modern compared to what the instructors showed you; you would step away, hands still held but arms crossed, draped over one another’s shoulders, and then nudging the other’s head down and around, leveraging the motion to spin back to face one another.  

Other times, the gestures were classic, almost romantic in their fluidity and proximity.  He led you into a graceful dip as the song came to a close before bringing you back up, as intended, your faces far closer than before.  You could feel his breath mingling with yours and you dared, just once, to look down at his mouth and then back to where you knew his gaze would be.

“There you are,” he whispered before he leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear.  “I enjoy seeing this passionate side of you…perhaps you could show me more.”

The words barely registered before applause rang out, beginning with the Tsaritsa and working its way through the guests.  By then, Dottore had already pulled away, putting a professional distance between both of you again.  As you left the dance floor, you caught sight of another smirk, tantalizing in its promise, if you decided to take his offer.  

Tomorrow morning was going to be interesting.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I hope it's okay to brainrot a little in your inbox. Idk if I'll turn this into a fic later (but if it inspires u take it🫵) but I just got another lippiercing and the guy was so nice and such a sweetheart and incredibly attractive and now all I can think about it piercer!geto😩

Oh he'd be so gentle with newbies, especially if they're as cute as reader. And oh how he adores the little nervous smiles as he studies your lips to see how the veins run and where the placement of the piercing should be

He shouldn't be tracing over your lips with his thumb like this but if it calms you down, what kind of piercer would he be if he didn't ensure the comfort of his clients!?!?!

No thoughts head empty just pretty tattooed piercer!geto suguru

ANONNNNNN OFC YOU CAN BRAINROT IN MY INBOX!!!!! THAT’S WHAT IT’S HERE FOR!!!!!!!!

AND GOOD GOD 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 piercer!sugu..,,, piercer!sugu……. i have no words this is . so so tasty. i need him so bad . he really would be so sweet and gentle….. i feel like he loves it when his clients are a little nervous because he loves soothing them 🥺 THE THUMB ON YOUR LIP. GOD HELP ME. ohhhhh him being a little touchy with his clients…,, all for the sake of calming them down of course……. not at all because he thinks you look so cute sitting there nervously nibbling on your bottom lip……….. maybe leaning in for a little kiss once you’ve started relaxing more. you’re being so brave, of course he has to reward you!!!!

but . oughhh…. really anon……. this is everything…..,,, he’s just so caring and teasing and skilled 😔😔😔 thank you for sharing the tasty crumbs i am eating them slowly and thoroughly

[catsharkzzz]

greifer beats up plant hunting guys for fun and his anger issues :3 also cause he’s forced to like plants , cause I personally think he has a plant curse like vine staff. except it’s a big plant not a tree. And like the venomshank aggravates his curse to become.. dat thang..

coming back to plant guys, he used to look at those posters on the town’s board or something to look for victims. he’s just really bratty and aggressive, and he wants a way to relieve it without riling up his dad.

I also think he was more nonchalant before he got corrupted by hatred.. like “does it look like I care?” type of person, Since mayor thaniyel says “Brad!!! This isn’t like you!!” so he wasn’t always like that .. nonchalant but a bit loud at times.

tho I will say, Brad has probably always had hatred for his dad. but when u go back to Griefers crib, him and his dad aren’t there anymore. like his dad took him to the hospital and that tamed some of his hatred .

I don’t rlly know why he has hate for his dad but it’s probably something personal he will never tell us. even tho we’re pretty good at keeping secrets , and we will become besties in demo 4 like the cruel king, confirmed by campy , pic is on the wiki. tho campy hasn’t completely decided whether we fight brad or plant separately.

what I’m begging for is that we visit post recovery brad in the hospital? or clinic? and he apologizes or something like that. and gives us the call card. If this happens, we might also get a gift from mayor thaniyel for helping them . I actually have another idea, but it’s a bit of a stretch. we cure/help him recover from the curse, or at least almost stop it from happening. ya it’s a stretch

- utensil

all of this is good and all, but i really dont think brad would have ever hated his dad. im so going to take this as an opportunity to dump stuff ive been holding onto for monthhsss bro all the scs below are from back when demo 3 like . first released, maybe a couple days after. for some prefacing, i have a whole headcanon about brad/greifers biological father being guest 666 (or roku, as i call him) ; who himself has fathered much too many children to count across multiple universes. and brad is one of them. brad doesnt know anything at all about his biological father, as he was surrendered to thaniyels doorstep as an infant. he's no idea who his mother is either, as a result.

none of this really has anything to do with your stuff you have going on at all, im sorry about that... i just have been WAITING to get all this stuff out. so thanks for the opportunity at least!