#il dottore x fem reader

[screamingcrows]

The second winner of a Zandicktober poll >< Tags: Dottore x afab reader, nsft, oral f receiving, blood, noncon vibes but reader had in fact planned this, 1.5k Minors DNI

The Akademiya was a place of wonders, no matter how Zandik might feel about certain values making out the foundation, he could still appreciate the vast collection of concepts that were wholly unknown to him. And experiences.

Such as this particular scenario.

He'd called you careless many times, but this showed an astounding lack of awareness on your part, leaving the door unlocked while-

Something was thundering against his ribcage, a heart, most likely, the sound echoing in his ears. It was swiftly getting difficult to breathe, whether from fear of being discovered or something else, he couldn't exactly place.

It had him captivated, held by the throat and welded to the ground. The way your back arched, the trembling muscles in your thighs, the muscles stretched along your throat, all of it should be subjected to his careful inspection.

Despite himself, Zandik had always found your dormitory oddly pleasant. A little cluttered as a result of your habit of picking up anything that glittered, but also littered with inviting blankets and pillows.

One of which was currently propping up your hips, the soft curves of your thighs quivering with every shift of your wrist. Your breaths sounded strained, quick and airy in the same pattern as when you were on the verge of tears. It was unfortunate that your face was barely hidden behind the delicate fabric hanging from the bed's canopy.

A small step forward and he would be able to see.

His fingers gripped the doorframe a little tighter when the tantalizing sound of a whine brushed by.

A small step forward and his feet would've crossed several boundaries- not just to your room. Warm light peeked through the lone window, bathing you in gold and making the sheen of sweat glisten. Would it taste sweet? What a repulsive idea, even if your perspiration was affected by your excessive love of sugary treats, it was still sweat.

Zandik knew, in the back of his mind anyway, that he should have closed the door the moment your activities became clear. But how could he, when all his body wanted to obey was the command to stride forward and replace your hand with his?

And why should morality concern him when you were offering up this opportunity on a silver platter?

For once, luck favored the outcast as the creaking of floorboards was beautifully accompanied by a similar sound from your bed as you shifted around. A shaky breath was forced from his lungs, the sight of you, brows furrowed and your eyes squeezed shut, lips pursed in clear frustration as you writhed.

Biting down the groan that threatened to spill when he saw how your thighs glistened with your own essence proved too much of a challenge. A fatal error.

Cheeks the color of his eyes, Zandik watched as your body contorted, the look on your face one of horror and shame in equal measure. A startled rabbit, one his teeth longed to tear into, jaw practically aching for a taste.

Your desperate protests did nothing to stop what possessed his body, mind going blank the moment your legs had shut. That wouldn't do. He was far from done looking.

Prying your thighs apart was akin to tearing pastry, his fingers sinking in as anticipation churned in his stomach. A breathless chuckle left his lips, utterly entranced by the sight of your slick folds, so different from any anatomical drawing.

Celestia above, it looked as though a hydro slime had exploded.

It was easy enough to pull you closer, even as you flailed, going so far as tossing a silken pillow at him as he crawled properly onto the soft mattress.

"Zandik!" So loud, not that it mattered, "Zandik stop! Out!"

You were so warm, with closed eyes the feeling might even be mistaken for sinking his hands into sun-kissed fur. Heady and deep, the scent of your arousal washed over him as he advanced towards the object of his current fixation.

Separating his consciousness from how your body seemed to just give beneath his touch was harder, but equally important lest he truly tear through.

The scent was sweet enough that Zandik was certain he would've choked were he to take a deeper breath. It was fascinating, a curious wonder where the trail of hair ended and your body split.

His tongue caught the drool at the corner of his lips, barely resisting the urge to spit it out. Rid himself of the faint taste his mind had conjured up. He felt like a damned beast, drooling at the scent of a meal. Maybe retching would be better, something to completely override the circuitry of desire.

A warning pinch to your thigh was enough to have you remain still beneath his vice grip, at least enough that be could inspect you more closely. Having your hands restrained would've made it easier, although the occasional scratch of nails against his scalp was more of a pleasant tingle than a true annoyance.

As long as you didn't start ripping out hairs or dislodging the sore scabs left over from whenever he got lost in thought and needed something to do with his hands.

There was a slight variation in color between your sex and the surrounding skin, likely caused by an abundance of blood vessels right beneath the surface.

"Do you have to squirm?" The inquiry drew a flicker of his attention to how heavy his breathing had grown, speaking with the usual disinterest impossible, "trying to get a good look here…"

Having been blinded by your brief cooperation, a surprised yelp left Zandik's lips the moment your thighs pushed back against his hands. It quickly turned to a breathless chuckle, the squish not entirely unpleasant if a little overwhelming at first.

A shame it obstructed his view.

"You shouldn't even be looking in the first pla-" how easy it was to have you trail off into a whine, a little touch of his tongue to your thigh apparently enough.

Although you'd previously appeared quite tense while lost in your own pleasure, this moan was accompanied by a moment of weakness, allowing Zandik to properly restrain your legs, settling for throwing them over his shoulders. The chances of you attempting to choke him were minuscule at most anyway.

Curiosity was what drove him.

Curiosity had always been accompanied by a satisfying tingle when sated.

His hips jerking uselessly was unrelated to the sticky mess that coated the tip of his tongue. As was the ache in his cheeks that resulted from suppressing a smile at your gasp. At least you'd seemingly stopped fighting back.

Getting lost in you was easy, a wholly different experience from being absorbed by studies, but just as intense. There was no shortage to the delightful, wanton sounds you were making, every tentative movement of his lips and tongue drawing out a different variation. His skin was lit on fire by pride, or shame, at everything he could do, your body reduced to nothing but a doll having its strings pulled.

This world followed rules, everything acted accordingly, the ability to respond to stimuli creates the root of awareness. And yet, Zandik had never felt further removed from his body as it messily lapped at your sex, mapping out every curve and fold of skin before finally breaching your entrance and noting the differences.

Your whines and pleas had long since been pushed to background noise, the force with which his hair was being pulled taking up what scarce attention wasn't funneled into reaching as far along your walls as possible. The slick had his lips prickling, torn between wanting to devour and needing to wipe it away.

Just a little longer and his curiosity would be sated.

Judging by how you constricted both around his tongue and head, it wouldn't surprise him if the desired outcome was close. Laughter bubbled in his chest when you screamed, the jagged edges of his teeth finally grazing your bundle of nerves. It was nothing remarkable, barely any difference in texture, but certainly recognizable by your cries.

With a strangled sound, Zandik pressed forward and sucked, unfamiliar ecstasy flooding his system with a force speculated equal to that achieved plunging from the top of the Akademiya. Nothing was within his control, nails tearing into your hips in desperate search of an anchor while struggling to breathe through the flames searing every nerve.

It wasn't until something bony threatened to shatter his cheekbone that control resurfaced.

His fingers were slick with blood, the red crescents marring your skin making him shiver.

The lower half of his face was downright soaked, your horrified expression when he licked his lips almost keeping his own disgust at bay.

Certainly, you were a mess, a delicious one at that.

But himself?

Oh, he wanted to disintegrate on the spot, all too keenly aware of the wetness seeping through his clothes, wincing as he shuffled backwards and caught sight of the dark spot where he'd been. Every ounce of interest had spilled from his body alongside the unnecessary amounts of spend, keeping his head down to avoid your dopey smile.

"…I'm never taking you up on the offer of taking a break in your dorm again…"

[nyanyakoto]

Could I request reader who always spends time with dottore’s segments and not Dottore himself so he gets jealous and punishes the reader nsfw please 🤭

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

╔══════╗

✦𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃: Il Dottore; Fem! Reader

✦𝐓𝐖: NSFW; Absolutely downright filthy smut bc it's our favourite doctor. Breeding, CNC if you squint. Reader being a brat and ignoring Dottore.

✦𝐀𝐃𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: This is such a brainrot.. Thank you for requesting anon 😇

✦𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍: 2nd November 2023

✦𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: (◉⁠‿⁠◉)

╚══════╝

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

At first it was his fault, Dottore was a man of science, a rather busy one at that so he didn't spend much time with you personally.

He didn't mind how you spent your time with his segments, after all you wanted some attention so if it wasn't from him directly then his clones would do, right?

However over time he noticed that you continued to spend time with them even if he wasn't busy.

That's exactly when he began to feel possessive over you, watching how you lingered around the segments, leaning into them, laughing with them and treating them as if you weren't in a relationship with him.

He began to to notice his own irritability rather quickly, he was a man that prided himself in his ability to stay calm and collected even in the worst situations.

However his imposing stature began to crumble little by little, chipping away and disintegrating into nothing but dust as he continued to watch you from afar.

And that's exactly how you found yourself in this situation.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

"Dottore- What's gotten into you?" You asked, almost as if you didn't know what you were doing to him by ignoring him.

His hands had a bruising grip on your hips, tugging on the soft flesh as he drilled into your sopping wet entrance.

"What's gotten into me?" He would ask, calmly despite what he was doing to you right now, as if the way he slammed his hipbones into the plush of your ass was not getting him even slightly breathless.

"What's gotten into you? You're the one trading me for some cheap copies, isn't that right beloved?"

Your were bent over his adjustable height desk, one that he often used for various experiments and always had some sort of chemical bubbling in the delicate glass bottles.. but the desk was cleared of any chemicals, only scattered paperwork decorating it as well as your body that was pressed down onto it. Your feet couldn't even reach the ground especially when his hands kept pulling your lower back upwards, creating more of an angle to your already arched back.

Your own shoes stepped on his ones, standing on your tippy toes so you had at least some resemblance of support while he rendered you senseless.

"You got- oh god- did you get jealous?" You tried to mock him even now, a victorious smirk tugging on your lips before his one hand firmly pressed your head back down onto the desk.

"You're gonna talk back now? Is that it?" His tone was condescending, cold almost without even an ounce of the usual teasing lilt that he had in his voice. He was dead serious and he was pissed off by your shenanigans.

He's been going on for at least fifteen minutes by now, the rhythm of his hips showing no mercy even if you begged for it and sobbed for it. You fucked up, you knew that much to not do that again.

"'umming- cumming!" You squeaked out as your walls spasmed around him, gripping him like a vice before eventually he was fucking you through the orgasmic wave. Soon after he too managed to climax, filling you up to the brim.

There was no need to fuss over him cumming inside, he'd figure out something for you tomorrow, a pill that wouldn't let you get actually knocked up by him. He was a man of science after all.

His hands let go of you, watching in delight at how you nearly slid down from the desk from how weak you felt. If not for his hips that were firmly pressed up against you, you would have fell to the cold floor of the laboratory.

And just as you thought that your punishment was over he leaned in and whispered.

"Fuck around and find out, isn't that what they say?"

You were definitely not walking in the foreseeable future.

[glassrowboat]

Can You Trust Me Blind? Dottore.

Summary: Dottore brings a woman home for the night.

Warnings: Smut, blood, Dottore

Word count: 2,100+

Hair twirled around his finger, spinning round and round in circles the same way Dottore would take his own bangs as they slipped out of the multitude of clips and pins he tried to use to wrangle them up and out of the way, only for those two strands to inevitably fall in his face again. It was annoying. A hassle dealing with it as he tried to scrawl out notes between the blue stands blocking his vision, but the locks in his hand seemed far easier to tame as he played with them.

Soft, well taken care of, and a complete mess as it sprawled out across the pillowcase. It wouldn't be a surprise if there was a knot or two jumbled up in there.

His fault, of course.

Dottore was the one who slid his hands into her hair, tangled his fingers in it like he was grasping at a knitted scarf being slowly wrapped around someone in the dead of winter as he tugged her head back. The length of her neck exposed without a hint of shame. A perfect canvas. Just like snow after it fell, painting the world anew.

Every footstep tainting the pure landscape that went on for miles.

To taint. To mar. To ruin.

The scent of perfume had overwhelmed his senses at the time, even had Dottore halting for a moment to burry his nose into her collarbone where she had no doubt dabbed it before heading out for the night. Flowery, feminine, with a faint hint of vanilla to it that was quickly masked over by iron.

Red on his teeth, on her neck, on the sheets below as he rocked into her.

A scream filled his ears.

This wasn't like him, taking a woman back home, let alone to his bed. It had to have been over seventy- maybe even eighty- years since Dottore had gone off and done something as stupid as this. Breaking all rules of common sense (something he had once considered to be a good friend of his) and welcoming her in with little to no trepidation even as the door slammed behind her.

She had looked around curiously, eyes going over the place like she was trying to suck in every last detail of the liminal space. He never was one who bothered with decorations, so there wasn't much to recall. Maybe a photo here, a trinket there, or a jar full of something no one truly wanted to question Dottore about. Nothing out of the usual for him. However, it was nice to see someone showing such a good trait, a healthy one in this wretched world, rather than glancing back at the door like they were already having second thoughts.

She wouldn't have even been the first if that were the case.

This woman had spent a good hour by his side before his sudden...impulse. Yes, that was a good way to put it, he thought as the strands of hair fell from Dottore's fingers.

One of Pantalone's parties Dottore had only agreed to go to because the banker had stuck his foot down and demanded that he come and talk to possible sponsors for the lab himself rather than having the Ninth do all the lip service. A shame, truly, seeing as that's what the man was best at. Might as well do what you're good for in this world. That's how Dottore saw it, anyway.

He had stumbled across this one along the way.

Dottore had been grumbling to himself about having to deal with it all, especially after having to explain the current project he was working on in a way that could only be explained at a kindergarten level of intelligence for the third time as this oaf of a man kept asking the same question in different ways (like changing the font would give it meaning anew), when she had made a snide remark as he passed by.

“I'm sure your little friend there is the type to attempt putting a square peg in a round hole.���

And oh, he couldn't have agreed more.

She wasn't a sponsor herself, or hadn't seemed to be one. Actually, she waved off most of Dottore's questions about her with what could only be described as practiced ease, instead choosing to fixate on his earring. Eyes locked on the thing as she tried to figure out what was in it. Making a guessing game of it. Primordial water? Sap from the leylines? Ligma? Gatorade? …Whatever that is.

However, she proved to be preferential company over the people who were better off waving their wallets in the air than even attempting to listen to his grandiose ideas. Not even the jingling of mora in hefty sacks had been able to keep him from sharing a glass of whiskey with her. The sound of ice clinking against glass and her voice proved to be far more entertaining.

Digs at Pantalone's ‘friends’ as the banker liked to call them, making fun of their outfits (mainly on her end), and insulting their intelligence proved her to be a great way to spend the otherwise dull evening.

Decent company.

That's all it was.

That's all it was supposed to be, even as she toyed with his earring like she had any right to. Blue light reflecting off her skin.

Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to stop her.

Somehow, that hour passed by like it was nothing but a handful of seconds.

Somehow, he leaned in and kissed her as she was making another remark. Something about a Lord this or that ‘needing to let go of the fact he's bald, because we can all tell he's wearing a toupee’ when he could taste the drink on her painted lips.

Just like he could still taste her blood.

She had said right after “I don't think that shade is your color” with a laugh as her thumb brushed over his bottom lip. No doubt trying to smudge the lipstick off.

Dottore couldn't even recall his retort, no doubt he gave one, but right now his mind was running the same scene that just happened on his bed on loop rather than bothering to remember his own words. If it was truly important, he'd no doubt recall them later. After this film in his head stopped reeling, or the tape itself broke from overuse.

Thighs wrapped around his waist, squeezing him tight between soft flesh he couldn't help but worry about bruising under his touch that was urging him closer and closer as Dottore filled her to the brim. Her nails dragging along his back. Hisses of both pain and pleasure bubbling in Dottore's throat as he slowly stilled.

Her moans bordered on pornagraphic as this woman apparently had no issue being loud. Much less in his space of all things.

Their kisses as she tugged him closer. Rushed, frenzied, even when he wanted to take a step back, a big breath, and truly savor this moment as her dress slid off and onto the floor.

It all reeled back to when Dottore stood before her with the cravat he usually wore in hand.

Blue fabric hanging in between them as he pinched it softly.

The reason he didn't even get the chance to see her eyes roll back into her head from pleasure alone.

Dottore was the one who slid it off his neck. Untying it the same way he did every night after being enraptured by his research for days on end before coming home and crashing into bed. A practice so well memorized he could do so with his eyes closed. Ironic, being he was the one to ask to blindfold her.

Half of a sentence was spoken before she just stopped to stare at the cloth. Eyes darted from him and back down to it in a repeated cycle until Dottore had asked the question again.

Louder that time.

Clearer.

Leaving no room for doubt.

“Is this something you're willing to do?”

She had stumbled over herself as she got out an “okay” and “yes.”

That had to be the least sure of herself he had seen her all night.

She hadn't moved much as Dottore slid the cloth over her eyes, only reaching her hand up to rest on his arm, fingers playing with one of the leather bands on his arm as he tied it in place. Like it made it easier to take her mind off the fact she was, quite literally, going into this blind as he made sure to double, even triple, check it wouldn't budge. Not easily, at least.

But still, she let him do it.

A neat bow sealing the deal.

The idea to joke she was like a gift quickly passed as her hand fell back down as the sound of Dottore's mask being placed on the nightstand filled the otherwise quiet space. A soft, subtle click. Only their breathing and that. Echoing as if it were pans clanging against each other.

“Is that why you wanted me blin-”

“Yes.”

What she was going to ask was obvious. After all, if he was in her shoes, Dottore very well would have done the same. Asked questions. Pried into matters that don't concern him.

Red eyes had bore down on her, blue cloth covering away the chance of seeing her looking up at him with the possibility of fear crossing her face.

No panicked looks. Not this time.

It was better this way, he learned. Less chance of someone seeing the scars that plague his skin and….this was why he typically preferred doing this with someone he already knew.

Someone who already knew what to expect from him, who wouldn't suck in a sharp breath as Dottore's hand slid along the curve of her waist to reach behind and tug the zipper of that dress down for her. The little tag between bare fingers as she spoke up again.

Good, she wasn't trusting him blindly.

Maybe she was smarter than he thought, but that doesn't say much when she's in his bed.

“You know, people usually go for biting and scratching instead of something like this when hooking up with what's essentially a total stranger.”

“Yet you agreed. Why?”

“I'm already here, am I not? Would be a real shame to blueball the both of us.”

How crude, but he couldn't help but to agree as Dottore pressed a kiss to her lips even while chuckling against her skin.

And another as he slid his tongue over her lips and pushed her down onto the bed. A small grunt came from her as her back hit the mattress. The zipper already tugged down as she tried to shimy the dress off even as the mattress creaked under her with every move. Old springs that needed to be dealt with.

At the time, he had wanted to promise not to hurt her, not in a way she wouldn't enjoy, anyhow, but now she lay beside him clearly passed out. She has been for the past two hours, thirty-four minutes, and forty-three seconds now. Her back to him. Moonlight peeking in through the window, leaving dust participles visible in the otherwise dark space as the beams shone down on her skin. Lighting up the tiniest bits of blood as bright as an apple seeped through the bandage he placed on her neck after she fell asleep.

All the more visible like this.

He couldn't help but trace his fingers over the cotton.

She really just let some stranger, a harbinger, him of all people no less, do that to her. To feel her pulse under his lips and still dare to break skin. To leave her in the dark as his hands wondered.

Either this girl was incredibly stupid or had no self-preservation instincts.

Maybe both.

For now, this woman was asleep. For now, he wouldn't have to worry about her reaction to what lay under that mask. The scarred man she chose to tumble into bed with. So, for now, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

Dottore couldn't say he would be surprised either way. She sure did seem like the type that could go either way. Laying there like nothing was wrong even as he reached over her and picked up his mask again. Cold to the touch as a familiar weight filled his hands before it slid out of Dottore's fingers again as he set it back down on the table.

The scent of flowers, vanilla, and blood filling his nose.

He didn't understand this woman in many ways. A bit of a flirt, one who thought it far too entertaining to crack jokes, and who seemed all the willing to listen as he rambled on.

She stopped and listened to him.

And all Dottore could ask himself with this information was: what sort of woman was she that she would choose to lay with a monster?

[catscidr]

hi.. hello... may I request a dottore fic w/chronically ill reader? chronically ill as in, can't get enough sleep due to pain, doesn't clean themselves/shower, or doesn't eat a lot due to the pain and loss of appetite.

this part is a bit self indulgent but maybe reader can't walk properly due to it and needs assistance by dottore (or his segments) to hold her hand and let her cling onto them as they walk?

absolutely understandable if not! hope you have a good day :) 🕊

yes!! absolutely!! (included this other ask too bc i felt they were similar enough) im sorry i disappeared for a bit, life happened and this and that and i didn't have time to write and when i did i just.... couldn't write LOLヽ(；▽；) i don't have a chronic illness so i did my best with what i had (google and my own experiences with body pains n stuff(?) ) so pls lmk if there's like. any wording i should change and whatnot. big smoochies to u nonnie i hope this makes you feel at least a little better ♡♡ ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: a whole lotta fluff, established relationship, dottore is probably a little ooc bc he's very soft, him and The Clones are doting on reader HARD. reader is shorter than the men includes: fem reader, dottore and his segments (Omega is the oldest, Delta is webttore, Iota is the youngest), Columbina is mentioned, fatui npcs are also mentioned wc: 2,3k

The doctor was infamous for being cruel, aloof and barbaric. From his experiments to his way of treating his coworkers, practically everyone that worked in the Fatui wanted nothing to do with him, since even if they happened to not get on his bad side, even being associated with him meant other members of the organization would look at them funny. The only people the Harbinger spoke to daily, apart from you, were his many segments. 

The same couldn’t be said for you though. When you could, you’d spend time with Viktor or Ekaterina whenever they were in Snezhnaya, hang out with Damselette when she was free or simply just make small talk with anyone willing to stop by for a chat. Unfortunately, you haven’t been able to enjoy other people’s presence since your body’s been feeling quite sluggish as of late, exhaustion seeping into your limbs much quicker than it should. Your predicament made it so that you were confined to the four walls of your room most days, human interaction being limited to Dottore and his clones. 

Not that you particularly minded, since they were an entertaining bunch. Dottore took care of you most of the time, but since his job was quite demanding, he couldn’t be there for you all the time. Which is where his segments came in. 

“The soup isn’t that hot, and I already blew on it! Just eat already,” Delta grumbles loudly, his patience wearing thin as it made way for aggressive worry to take place. You stick your tongue out at him, a tired and petty act of rebellion despite your situation. 

“I dare you to take a sip. For sure it’ll be able to melt your mechanic tongue right off,” you huff in annoyance, both from the minimal hours of sleep you’d been getting and your own patience coming to an end. The man makes a tsk sound, torn between wanting to prove you wrong by humoring your suggestion or wanting to just grab an ice cube and tossing it in the bowl in malicious compliance. He doesn’t have time to decide though, because two people come into your room right as he opened his mouth to reply. 

“Prime told me to check in on you,” Omega says as he breaches the doorframe. “You’re taking too long.” he adds, crossing his arms. The older segment stares down at his maskless coworker, lips curling down in a frown. Delta scowls, readjusting himself on your bed- he was sitting to your right, his legs thrown over the side of the bed. He glances over his shoulder at the interruption, scowl now much more genuine as he glares daggers at the older segment. 

“I would have been back a long time ago if someone,” he doesn’t hide the way his eyes glance over at your sulking form, “had cooperated with me.” Still holding up the spoon he had tried to feed you previously, he lowers it into the bowl while gesturing for Omega to come closer. The latter walks over to the bed calmly while Iota saunters over to your left side, chatting up a storm about how he’s missed you and asking when you’ll be joining them back in the lab again. 

“Maybe if you knew how to speak to women,” the oldest taunts, lips curling into a small grin, the only feature visible on his masked face. You giggle as Delta bites back an insult, purposely ignoring his superior to instead try to make you get something in your system one more time. 

“Where’s Dottore?” you ask the Omega segment, turning your face away from Delta. The latter glares at you, handing over the bowl of soup to the other man. Iota suggests feeding you but is quickly dismissed by the other two, much to his dismay. 

“Busy. Although he said he would come by to test something, if I recall correctly... didn’t mention what it was, though,” the masked segment says, blowing on a spoonful of soup to cool it off. You nod, eating the spoonful when Omega presents it to you, earning a look of disbelief from Delta. “How are you feeling today?” the oldest asks, tuning out Delta’s many choice words aimed at him. You do the same, focused on eating and taking your time swallowing the food so as to not upset your already sensitive stomach. 

“Could be better,” you respond with a sigh. “I feel pain... everywhere. And I’m tired but I can’t sleep,” you add between spoonfuls. Omega nods, letting you rant as he silently listens to you while subtly observing the way your chest heaves up and down, as if your lungs were working overtime to accommodate to an elevated heart rate. 

He hums, dipping the spoon in the bowl to feed you again. You shake your head at him and put a hand up in front of your mouth, your brows creasing your forehead. The clone doesn’t push further and instead hands Iota the unfinished bowl of food, quietly asking for him to put it away. The young boy nods eagerly, happy to be of use as he scurries away. Delta follows after him to make sure he doesn’t break anything, but glances behind his shoulder to take one last look at you, worry obvious on his usually irked face. 

“How long has it been since Prime has last given your previous dose of aspirin?” he asks, leaning closer to you to push your hair out of your face. Expression scrunched up in discomfort from the sudden food intake, you make a noise of discontentment, a vague answer to his question. He frowns but doesn’t voice his displeasure aloud, instead comforting you through your nausea. Noticing pearls of sweat beading up on your hairline, Omega pulls your bed sheets away slightly, making you more comfortable. 

“Can you try swallowing for me?” he asks gently, tilting his head forward and to the side to look at your throat. It takes you a hot second but after some struggle you do as he instructed and swallow, your throat bobbing up as you do, and the segment hums in satisfaction. “Good,” he murmurs quietly, placing one hand on your shoulder to help you straighten your back. 

“Let me help you up. Hold onto my hand for me?” Omega asks, helping you slip out of bed, putting a strong arm under yours to help you stand up. You wordlessly interlock your fingers into his own and wobble slightly, knees weak and devoid of strength, but he holds you up, bending his own knees slightly to accommodate your height. The wave of nausea comes and goes, making your legs unsteady as the clone helps you walk towards the bathroom connected to your bedroom. 

Delta comes back without Iota in tow and immediately notices your discomfort. His legs work faster than his mind and he’s to your left in the blink of an eye, supporting your weight as well to help you and Omega out. The three of you reach the sink counter and as the oldest helps you sit up on it, Delta squints at his fellow clone. 

“Can one of you get my bucket,” you manage to croak out between deep breaths, head slumped forward to rest against Omega’s shoulder. While he rubs soothing circles on your back Delta quickly grabs the bucket you kept in your room, footsteps as silent as he could as to not disturb you. You murmur a quiet thank you to him, sitting up to the best of your ability as you shoot him a grateful smile. 

“Are you feeling well enough to bathe or are you still lightheaded?” Omega asks, one of his gloved hands coming up to your forehead. He feels some heat seep through the leather fabric but waits for your answer nonetheless, crimson eyes covered by his mask staring into you. You nod, leaning into the coolness of his hand. 

“Mmhyeah, jus’ help me out a bit,” you mumble sleepily, exhaustion taking over your nausea. Delta doesn't need to be told twice as he turns on the tap to fill up the bath, keeping a hand beneath it to make the sound of water splashing in the tub quieter to avoid bothering you. 

✧✧✧   

With a towel resting over your head and newfound energy flowing through your limbs, you saunter into your partner’s main lab to find him. Omega had left shortly after you finished bathing, begrudgingly telling you that he had to go back to work- but Delta stayed with you long enough to keep you company while you let your eyes rest. He gave you some painkillers- nothing like what Dottore gave you to keep the pain at bay, but it worked as a temporary solution- and you felt energized enough to leave your bedroom to get ahold of Dottore. 

Delta walked behind you, not wanting to go back to the laboratory just yet but the last thing he wanted was to leave you alone, his mind working up a multitude of scenarios in which you’d get hurt. Although he was all bark and no bite, he still cared about you immensely- more than he’d ever admit. He watches your hair drip water onto the pristine white tiles as you walk and steps on the water with his boots, smudging the liquid to wipe it away. 

“Dottore!” you exclaim happily, eyes lighting up when you finally catch sight of the familiar mop of blue hair paired with his matching tired eyes and scarred skin adorning his face. The Harbinger looks up from his work, eyes displaying a mix of surprise and something akin to irritation- a result from catching him off guard. 

“Darling,” he says softly, quietly enough that you barely catch the loving nickname slipping past his chapped lips. “Did you eat?” he asks, brushing the dirt off his hands on his slacks. You engulf his torso in a warm hug, immediately comforted by the familiar faint scent of his cologne and whatever cleaning supply he used in his lab. He returns the hug gently and Delta looks away immediately, flustered at the sight of his boss being publicly affectionate. 

You respond with a muffled mhm, refusing to pull away. “Didn’t eat much but it was something. Omega ‘n Delta helped me bathe. Took something for the pain. Now I’m here,” you summarize, face still smushed against him. He hums in approval, but concern still creases his brows as he uses one of his hands to rub up your back and the other to dry off your hair completely using the towel on your head. Delta murmurs an excuse before leaving the premises, not able to withstand the pda. 

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” he says sternly but softly. “I’m working on something that’ll help you in the long run, it’ll do you good to allow your body to recuperate as much as it can. Have you been sleeping alright?” 

You slump against him. Of course he’d notice how tired you were even if he couldn’t see your face. 

“...No,” you mumble. He doesn’t respond, but you feel his head moving as he looks around his workspace, seemingly looking for something. He lets out a quiet aha when he does and he brings his arms down to your shoulders to push you away. 

“I have something you can take to help you sleep. You shouldn’t feel nauseous nor dizzy when you take it as well,” Dottore says, immediately talking about the possible complications before you can even open your mouth to refuse his offer. “I tested it out myself,” he adds, lips curling into a small smile when he sees your face change from a pout to bewilderment. 

“You? The great Dottore, ex-scholar of the Akademiya, willingly taking medication to make him sleep? You never get rest, and you expect me to believe you when you talk about sleeping medication?” you say with an amused scoff. Dottore raises a brow at your teasing but doesn’t comment on it, instead he chooses to brush his pointer finger’s knuckle beneath your eyes. 

“You should believe me because I never get rest, my love,” he says fondly. “And because your dark circles are so prominent, I could probably see them from the other side of the laboratory.” he adds. You huff but lean into his touch, eyes drooping from the burst of energy catching up on your body. You hear him chuckle under his breath as he shifts his body to grab the medication in question and a syringe with a sterilized needle, preparing the equipment to administer it to you. 

“If you get an adequate amount of rest, I’ll take two days off work to take care of you properly. How does that sound?” he asks lightly, flicking the syringe to let out any air bubbles out. You look away with furrowed brows and roll your eyes, but still give him your arm. 

“Now you’re just trying to bait me,” you say, looking at him from the corner of your eyes. He shrugs, not arguing with your accusation because you were technically right. When he’s done with the syringe you feel his arms wrap around you, the warmth of his body making you sigh pleasantly. 

You can’t tell what it is that makes your body grow so incredibly tired so suddenly; if it was the medication, the strain on your body or if it was because you just felt that comfortable in Dottore’s arms, but you didn’t really care. As you felt Dottore move you to one of his couches, you reach out to grab onto his sleeve to keep him nearby. 

He complies, crouching to be at your level as you crack your eyes open to look at him. You murmur a quiet love you and shut your eyes contentedly, smiling softly once you feel his lips make contact with your forehead as you hear him clearly say I love you too back. 

[dreamingcloudie]

Pairing(s): Dottore x Fem!Reader

Type: Smut (MDNI!!!)

Tags: praise kink (slight degrade kink too if you squint), fingering, oral (reader receiving)

Lmk if I missed anything!

A short experimental smut that nobody asked for lol. I wanted to try new things so yea. First time writing smut, can't promise it's good and might delete this later if I ended up regretting it.

You let out a groan as he pinned you against a wall forcefully, running your hand through his tangled locks as he pressed heated kisses on your exposed neck. He let out a deep growl and placed his knee between your thighs, leaving you no where to escape even if you wanted to.

“You’re such a naughty little thing, aren’t you?” His voice was deep and raspy, sending shivers down your spine, forcing a whine out of you. Your mind was in the clouds and your body moved on its own, grinding your clothed pussy against his thigh.

“Such a needy slut,” he spat. Gripping your face to look at his deep, crimson eyes as they started into your soul.

“Look at you, completely at my mercy. Where did all that confidence go, hm?”

He slid his other hand under your skirt, rubbing circles onto your throbbing heat with feather-light touches.

“Fuck, so fucking wet for me, princess…”

The way his fingers moved against your clit was heavenly. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and your breathy moans were like a symphony to his ears, clearly enjoying yourself.

He then kneeled down and placed your legs on his shoulders, with the wall behind you acting as support. His teeth nibbled on the insides of your flushed thighs, leaving visible bite marks. Marking you as his. He moved up, his hot and slimy tongue licked your clit through your soaked panties. Your legs began to tremble, closing them on instinct, but it just made him pressed against your wet core even more.

His fingers moved your lingerie aside, allowing him even more access. And so he took the opportunity to slip a finger in.

“So tight… Fuck, you really wanted this, hm?”

You let out a loud moan and your grip on his hair became stronger. He took that as a sign to add another digit in, filling your hole.

“N-no more…ngh…”

He let out a deep chuckle.

“You’ve been doing so well for me. Surely you can handle just a bit more,” he groaned.

Your breathing hitched when he quickened his pace.

“Now, be a good girl and cum for me.”

[jessamine-rose]

✿ Artifact Set: Beloved Darlings ✿

Read my I Love You, Darling series first!!

As y’all know, I became rlly fond of writing for the Yandere! Harbingers and their darlings……aaaand that’s how I ended up writing Artifact Sets for them. Each set features four stories, two for the darlings’ backstories + two fic epilogues. I hope you enjoy <3

Characters:: Capitano, Pantalone, Dottore, Pierro + their darlings

Tw:: YANDERE, psychological trauma, blood, violence, death, mention of child abuse

Notes:: Female readers, fic spoilers

Capitano x Damsel:: Herbarium and Fairytale

✿ Discarded Doll

A broken princess doll. After numerous owners and stitches, the toy was left forgotten in the forest behind Mondstadt Orphanage.

Once upon a time, there lived a Damsel who was cursed by the gods.

Raised in an uncaring orphanage, her childhood was one of noise and solitude. In this liminal shelter, all companions were temporary and no belongings were private. And so the child gave up on those things, dreaming of the day she would be given a home to call her own.

Following her adoption, however, the Damsel’s new family revealed themselves to be cruel villains who took away her bright smiles and outspoken words. After days of torment, she was finally returned to her first prison, only to be silenced by her caretakers.

In the end, no hero came to save her. The Damsel waited for the day she became of age and was discarded once more.

✿ Overdue Library Book

A collection of fairytales borrowed from Mondstadt Library. The list of previous readers has been removed, and the front page is vandalized with the words “Property of ______.”

From the beginning, Mondstadt Library was her personal wonderland.

When she was an orphan, it offered a peaceful hobby. When she was a child of the Maiers, it provided a faraway refuge. It was natural for her to remain there as an adult, though it entailed the new task of maintaining the silence and sharing books with her once-fellow patrons.

It was literature which taught her the basic meanings of family, home, and love. When she tired of the false promises of fairytales, she turned to real stories only to be disillusioned with her inferior qualities. Her debilitating misfortune. Her unanswered prayers.

“Oh, I get it now. Love does exist. It’s just that the gods have deemed me unworthy of it.”

And so she escaped to her fairytales once more.

✿ Pressed Sumeru Roses

A preserved bouquet of violet rambler roses. Presently, the flowers are kept on display in the Captain’s bedchambers.

After their happy ending, the Damsel finally found a home in her Snezhnayan prison.

The Captain was protective throughout their honeymoon, but they left Sumeru in good spirits. Upon their return, a few tasks were accomplished before she could resume her normal routine.

Her belongings were unpacked and returned to their bedroom.

Her bookcase was reorganized to accommodate her new books from Sumeru.

Their bedroom was decorated with newly-pressed flowers, and her husband allowed it.

Lastly, she finally joined him in their bed. She’d missed that piece of furniture least of all.

After all, it was Capitano who blessed her slumber with warmth, and they shared the same bed in Sumeru.

“Ah, it’s good to be home.”

✿ Letter from a Devoted Knight

An envelope bearing the official seal of the Fatui. Delivered alongside the letter is a box of fresh flowers native to Natlan.

During the Captain’s latest mission, a Fatuus visited their home.

By then, the Damsel knew what their arrival meant. This time, they gave her both a letter and a wrapped gift.

The flora of Natlan was beautiful. She could only imagine the efforts taken to keep the flowers fresh for her hobby. If only Capitano was here to witness her smile.

As always, the letter was better than any book.

“My beloved flower, every day without you brings me grief. I could only imagine the smile on your face if you were able to view the flora of Natlan with me. My mission is far from over but once the Pyro Archon’s Gnosis is acquired, you shall be the first to hear of my return.”

“My lady, are you all right?” asked her guard.

“It’s nothing, Cyane.” She wiped her tears and continued reading. “Don’t bother me.”

It had only taken a few decades for her to meet her knight in shining armor. In comparison, what was a few more months before their happily ever after?

Pantalone x Kitty:: Housecat and Alea Iacta Est

⬩ Ornamental Comb

A bejeweled comb worn as a hair accessory. A few hairs are caught in the comb’s teeth, bearing a soft texture similar to cat fur.

She was born to a prestigious family, and this was where her luck began and ended.

Neither the firstborn nor the gifted child, she was the disappointment. Unnecessary, unexceptional, and therefore useless.

However, she had the same expectations of a child born into high society. All she had to do was to smile and play along with her family’s ruse, and that would be enough to validate her position. Never mind what she did in her free time, and for that she was satisfied.

In fashion, she found a genuine passion for aesthetics and history. A beautiful outfit was all it took to attract the attention of others.

In dance, she found an opportunity to participate in social events. Regardless, most interactions were on account of her family name.

Beyond the arts, she donned a mask of false serenity. But such details were of little consequence—who would ever come close enough to notice her cracks?

⬩ Smaragdus Jadeite Ring

A simple wedding ring with a square-shaped smaragdus jadeite in the center. The jewelry piece was left behind by its owner.

On her twentieth birthday, her family finally found a purpose for her.

Without her brother and friends in attendance, she easily surrendered to her parents’ commands. For what future lay in wait for a useless child stripped of wealth and prestige?

She didn’t cry when her family reacted to her Vision with anything but delight.

She didn’t cry when she accepted her wedding ring—a plain, impersonal decoration.

She didn’t cry when she realized the hollow nature of her engagement. If anything, she left the hotel and dissolved into bitter laughter.

“Why should I care? That is another marital duty off my back, isn’t it?”

“I feel like shopping. What shall I buy? A dress, necklaces, lots of rings…if he complains about my spending habits, I need only ask about his whereabouts tonight.”

“Yes, this is fine. Love—what a cruel word. In the end, it is just connections, agreements, people using one another. Since love does not exist, I shall simply settle for the next best thing.”

Yet no matter how much finery she indulged in, it was never enough to fill her heart.

⬩ Electro Crystal Collar

The favorite accessory of the Regrator’s wife. The collar matches the personal aesthetic of the Ninth Harbinger.

Her first sacrifice was made in the fashion district of Snezhnaya.

As the Regrator’s wife, she had to complement his image. Scandalous engagement aside, her husband’s reputation would be damaged if she was perceived as a tasteless foreigner.

The Snezhnayan outfits were so pretty. Her husband selected the perfect garments for her—a never-ending closet of dresses, jewelry, heels, perfumes—all in his signature colors.

The collar was her personal favorite. It was an intricate necklace commissioned just for her, the most valuable treasure of the Regrator.

Later on, she would resent that accessory and the pain it brought her.

But with time, she grew to appreciate her collar again. By then, there was no need to worry about her outfits clashing with her Vision.

⬩ Surrendered Pyro Vision

A Pyro Vision separated from its owner. The divine gift is currently in the Regrator’s possession.

Her memories suffered the brunt of the loss of her Vision.

The majority of her life could be remembered in clear detail. But in every instance where her divine gift was used, that was when her memories became hazy.

Fortunately, she had a loving husband who was willing to explain everything to her.

There was their first dance at the Shang family’s gala. Under the glittery stars, they had waltzed to a slow, lively orchestral arrangement.

There were numerous arguments split into blurry fragments. Only later would she realize how foolish she was in refusing to understand her husband’s concerns.

There was the accident which revealed the dangers of her own self. But it was through this catastrophe that she learned the extent of her husband’s kindness.

Love—what a beautiful truth. And now it finally belonged to her.

Dottore x Assistant:: Chemistry and Magnum Opus

♡ Drawing of a Nilotpala Lotus

A crayon drawing of a Nilotpala lotus. The picture is accompanied by a written description.

Since her youth, her only dream was to observe the world.

Her village was the perfect home for a budding researcher, teeming with all sorts of natural wonders and phenomena. The flora, the fauna, the daily sunrise—everything was there, just waiting to be discovered. Nature could not have produced a more ardent admirer.

It was this passion which drove her to enroll in the Sumeru Akademiya. On the day of her departure, she and her family exchanged bittersweet farewells. After all, who knew when they would see each other again?

That was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

The world was so beautiful, and she wanted to learn everything about it.

She had so many questions, and her curiosity could not accept a vague answer.

If only she knew the price for such knowledge.

♡ Scholar’s Journal

An old notebook belonging to a former scholar of the Sumeru Akademiya. The pages are full of written notes and coffee stains.

The Akademiya was where her dreams died out.

In this sea of knowledge, her great mind was put to the test. It was a race against other geniuses to manage the brutal workload and to prove one’s worth in the academe.

After her first month, her time was totally consumed by her studies. Rarely could she spare a few hours for her friends and hobbies.

After her first year, slumber became a scarce privilege. Her physical and mental processes suffered as a result.

After her first promotion, she had lost the passion essential to her research.

“All of my questions have been answered…what now? More lessons and theories to solve, I guess. It will all be worth it once I graduate.”

“Anatomy exam, botany presentation, thesis proposal…when will it end? I will need to postpone my personal research on the Nilotpala lotus again. Maybe coffee will help.”

“The world has become so dull. Perhaps I shouldn’t have searched for answers.”

♡ Syringe of Love and Dreams

A used syringe which serves as an ornament on the Doctor’s desk. The barrel holds the residue of a viscous gold chemical.

Over the centuries, a scholar rose to infamy in the Fatui. This individual was known as the Doctor’s assistant, his loyal supporter who stood by him in every inhumane experiment. One may doubt her allegiance to the Tsaritsa, but never her love for the Second Harbinger.

Many had speculated on the origins of their intimate relationship—and were swiftly punished for it. The price for such knowledge was a merciless death, whereas misinformation begot an increase in the Doctor’s test subjects.

Together, the couple made several discoveries regarding the truth of the Old World. Such advancements could have never been undertaken in the name of the Sumeru Akademiya, of which they had cut ties with.

To the world, they were the heretical Doctor and his fanatical Assistant. But behind closed doors, they were Zandik and ______ who shared their research, dreams, and secrets with one another.

♡ The Doctor’s Mask

A gray-and-white mask retrieved from Haeresys. The garment was used to conceal the wearer’s face, with the exception of cutouts for his eyes and right cheek.

The acquisition of the Electro and Dendro Gnoses was a triumph for the Fatui, but a tragedy for the Doctor’s Assistant.

After all, she was in the presence of his Segments when their lives were traded.

In the wake of their elimination, she rushed to her lover’s office and burst into tears when she found him in stable condition. Zandik was safe, unharmed, responsive to her embrace.

“Hey, Zandik, you’ll never leave me, right?”

“Oh? I believe I’d answered that question a long time ago. And this is no time for sorrow…unless you were more partial to my Segments than you cared to admit.”

“Still, each clone was a special version of you. And to think that the Dendro Archon rebuked their creation! Who knew how close-minded she could be?”

“Indeed, and the loss of my Segments will be strongly felt in the upcoming weeks. We have so much work to do while their positions are vacant.”

“Well, at least that means more time with you. That blasted Traveler…I swear, I won’t let them lay a hand on you, Zandik.”

“I could say the same for you, my dear.”

Pierro x Savior:: Disjecta Membra and Chess Piece

✧ Archon War Trophies

A pair of damaged weapons in the Fatui inventory. The equipment was discovered in an ancient temple, specifically a storage room for hunting traps.

In her long life, she had been called by many names. The God of Mist who provided a safe home for her followers. The All-Knowing One whose powers disabled secrecy and escape. The Starry One who had lost everything. █████, the beloved friend of her fellow gods.

It was during the Archon War that she gained her least favorite title, Death-Mist.

The carnage of the event would remain vivid in her memories. There was a ruined temple. A mangled body which burst into fire without any last words. Two ruthless gods who were slain in turn. Earth and flesh stained with her blood. The fear of several humans, including her own followers.

Perhaps that was the moment they began to lose faith in her.

It didn’t matter. It was her fault, anyway.

Only once revenge had been enacted did the loving god come back to her senses and move onwards.

“Oizys, Pasithea, are you all right? Those gods…they can’t hurt us anymore.”

“I’m sorry for not going with their option, Vesta. May you rest in peace.”

“My precious lambs, let us leave. It is time to find our new home.”

✧ Scattered Fragments

Pottery shards scattered across the floor of an ancient temple. Put together, the pieces form the shape of a dinner plate.

Her first observation of humanity birthed her talent for the culinary arts.

Hunger was such a curious sensation for living beings. It was this need for sustenance which led to many important patterns in daily life.

By hunting and gathering, one preserved the natural cycle of life and death.

In the kitchen, even a humble mortal could partake in creation.

At the dining table, everyone was equal.

“█████, isn’t this too much for two people? …Hey, it’s all right. We can eat the leftovers tomorrow.”

As the number of plates decreased from her table, so did the conversations. One day, the noise and her appetite disappeared entirely.

✧ Bloodstained Thurible

A silver Catalyst stained with blood. The powerful relic rests in the Jester’s private collection, kept under lock and key.

Their first act as a couple was to cook cream stew together.

“Pierro, were you always this slow at kitchen prep?”

“Might I remind you that I am still recovering from my injuries?”

“So am I. Just give me the knife and trade places with me.”

“I already said that you are forbidden from handling sharp objects.”

“Give me a break! Do you even know how to butcher a wild fowl?!”

Despite their quarrels, the couple felt closer than they had been in months. Perhaps it was the nostalgia of the activity or the god’s acceptance of her fate.

The cream stew turned out satisfactory. In the passing centuries, the dish frequently appeared on their dining table in Snezhnaya.

✧ Stellar Embroidery

A variety of garments embroidered with four-pointed stars. The clothes include a white necktie, a translucent veil, a small gown, and a baby’s blanket.

“Mother, we’re home!”

“Oh, Hecate? What time did you and Father arrive?”

“A few minutes ago. Don’t tell him that you know, but we bought a gift for you!”

“Aww, thank you! Did you have fun in the town square?”

“Yup! What are you sewing this time?”

“Just another Khaenri’ahn star. What do you think?”

“Hmm, it’s pretty but I like your other designs more.”

“In that case, do you have any suggestions for my next piece?”

“Can you sew snowflakes on my handkerchiefs? Oh, and Inteyvat flowers for this dress!”

“What a lovely idea. And would you like something to match with the twins?”

“Maybe. Are they—oh, Father, look what Mother made!”

“Welcome home, love.”

♡

After two months, I finally remembered this WIP lol. I just want to say thank you again to everyone who enjoyed my fics. Your support truly means the world to me!! And how could I not give a shoutout to my bestie @diodellet for once again indulging my brainrot and proofreading my nonsense?? (*´∇｀*)

Tag a Harbinger/ Darling enjoyer!! @oofasleep @leftdestiny-posts @nicebonescomrades @thescribeoflostmemories @surveyycorps @gum-iie @yanmaresu @bonknigirlinthehood @melody3cherryblossom @lazyroseart @harmonysanreads @kocherry @moarar @lcveaesop

[ragnviindrz]

revenge is sweet. / dottore x f! reader

info: you trick dottore into inhaling aphrodisiac, however that goes bad for you..

this content includes: DARK CONTENT, drugging, NONCON, porn w/o plot, syringes, use of scalpel, forced kissing, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, mating press, breeding kink, forced pregnancy, bleeding, pregnancy mention lmaoo im not actually sure if what i said abt the position is correct :')

note: one of my drafts got deleted so i made this instead. this was kinda rushed.

any reblogs/support is accepted!! :)

"How did this happen?" He hissed, as he dropped the syringe on the floor. You look up to see his face, flushed red. He looked like a mess, it seemed your plan worked.

He turned away from you, but was unable to hide his erection. Though, as he turned back - he noticed your smug expression. Your smile could not get any wider as you see him practically fuming. It's like he has smoke coming out of his ears like those typical cartoons.

"Hah? So it was your doing? How stupid of me to get tricked by a labrat like you. That's fine, I have another test in mind. Female anatomy is so interesting. Hm.." He spoke, as he didn't seem bothered, yet he was.

Your smile dropped immediately, as your heart did too the moment he continued, "I wonder if I could get you pregnant. A mortal, and myself... What would be the result?"

His hands reached to you, though you couldn't do much; being chained against the examination mattress. Slowly, he pushed your nightgown up revealing your naked pussy as he pretty much took every of your belonging when he took you.

"Wait– stop!" You yelled, but he didn't - he removed his gloves pushing two fingers inside you and scissoring enough to try and get you wet. He leaned closer, staring into your eyes as he forcefully kissed you, shoving his tongue in your mouth as you let out tiny moans.

Your slick coats his finger, as you adjust taking his fingers. It was like your body was overjoyed at this, but he didn't really mind as you writhe and let out gasps and moans within the kiss.

He pulled away from the kiss, string of saliva connecting the two of you. "You taste delicious.." He pulls his fingers out of you, tasting your slick.

"I believe you're ready now." He hums, as he tugged his pants down, letting his leaking cock slap onto your stomach.

"No way, Dottore.. That won't fit– please!" He doesn't answer as he removes the chain, pushing your legs and practically folding you in half.

He pushes the tip inside your slit carefully, stretching your pussy out and he muttered, "We'll make it fit, then."

As soon as he finishes his sentence, he shoved all of his girth inside making you scream in pain. He had barely prepared you to take his huge cock, and you weren't wet enough.

You blacked out for a moment, until he slaps you awake, and in that minute you've blacked out he has grabbed hold of a scalpel, tracing it against your skin, cutting just enough to make you bleed, but not enough to harm you seriously. "So.. fucking pretty."

He thrusted in and out, as you let out gasps of pain and pleasure - your blood coating his dick but he didn't stop. He got faster and faster, as he licked the blood from the cut he made earlier.

"Did you know that the position we're in.. Is the most effective for when a man is trying to get a woman pregnant?" He groans in your ear, as he pounded your pussy. "Luckily for you, I'm close, so stay still. Okay?"

His thrusts got more erratic, as he tries to chase his orgasm. His fingers found itself on your clit, rubbing and swirling his fingers creating a circle motion.

"Please.. Hgnnh..~ Pull out.." You plead, but your plead goes in his ear and comes out the other.

"I beg y–" Your pleading was stopped as he forced an orgasm out of you, your slick coating his dick and stomach. You tightened up even more around his cock, making it impossible for him to pull out.

"You ask for me to pull out, but your body doesn't want me to. You're begging to be bred, girl. Don't worry, I'll give you what you want. After all, what doctor am I if I cannot provide you what you desperately need?" With that, he was balls deep inside you, filling your womb with cum. It was extremely hot inside you, whilst he rode his orgasm, his cum acting as a lube.

He pulled out of your cum filled pussy, as you felt extremely bloated. His white cum mixed with your blood. Dottore scoope the cum dripping out of you and shoved it back in, keeping you folded to avoid anymore of his cum spilling out.

He let you rest for a bit, until the five minute has passed - and he stood above you, his cock erect once again.

"What? Didn't think we were done, were you? It's only begun after all."

first post, woo!! thank you for reading. :)

[yourpalkitty]

Dottore x Suicidal!Reader

this isn’t the first time he’s seen her. It’s not even the tenth. He sees her when he’s not expecting to, in places she shouldn’t be. Sitting on the railing of a tall bridge, a cliff overlooking the ocean, the ledge of a mountain…

She’s always wearing a white dress with her hair done up, as if she’s going somewhere. And her shoes are somewhere beside or behind her, as if she’s not coming back. And yet every time, she’ll take a deep breathe and slide back into her shoes. “Te amo vivere,” she’d say, as if she needed to be told. As if she didn’t believe it.

Dottore didn’t believe her either.

He began to seek these places out, these places people go to die. He wouldn’t always find her, but sometimes he would. He’d find her under a tree with a rope attached to the bough, at the top of a tall building looking down, at a lake with a heavy weight attached to her food. He knew she wanted to die. He hoped that she didn’t.

It takes her months to finally speak to him. She knew he’d been there, hiding in the shadows as he willed her not to take action. Not to lose her vivere. *velle vivere*. But he knew it was pointless. What use does willing do if you don’t open your mouth?

“You make it very hard, you know,” she says, her voice echoing across the canyon she sat at the precipice of. “What I wish to do isn’t something for an audience.”

“And what is it you wish to do?” Dottore quips. He shouldn’t care. He doesn’t care. Why would he care? He hasn’t cared for anyone since he was in the academia. Yet no matter how he wanted to deny it, he was praying to any archon out there to hear those words: the ones that meant her self inflicted and had been delayed. *Te amo vivere,* he thinks to himself, *say it*.

But the words never came.

[lyxzeun]

— dottore ;; voice + bf headcanons 💎

YNA HAS LEFT A MESSAGE ;; inspired by cal’s super goofy post about dottores voice LMAOOO (second / main account ;; @yoraely) @cxlrosii yw pooks🙏🙏

。tw ; kinda suggestive 。

;; dottore, whose voice would be the first thing you’d be able to hear in the morning and would already make you smile; and make your heart skip beats

;; whenever he needs you’re attention (in or outside of work matters) he’d always bring up a nickname or two before asking for a favor ; “sweetheart, would you be a dear and lend me the scissors?” (you could hear the italicization in his voice) — in other situations, during in bed (once you wake up, what ELSE are u thinking u goofies) ; he’d normally have this rich accented voice ;; “love, scoot closer, will you? i can’t savor the moment if you aren’t close to me.”

;; it should be canon that he has this italicized voice when he mentions a nickname or your name during sentences (fr)

;; he mutters sweet nothings in between kisses ; “god, i love you so much.”, “you taste sweet.”, “i hate how good you taste.” - or something along the lines of your lips tasting good. he’s obsessed.

;; during the times he’s been cuddling with you, he’s always resting his chin on your shoulder and would always lean his lips towards your ear to whisper one too many phrases to make you spiral in fluster ; “you know, i could take you right here.”, “i think you look good while i cuddle you close and under the covers.” :)

;; hates it so much when you leave his side in bed when you’re early to something but it’ll always end up in the same way; dottore grabs you by the wrist and pulls you down the bed and whines like a child(e), then he’ll list down things that could happen when you leave him in bed (so dramatic)

;; he says please ironically; “please. stay with me for a little longer before you do that commission?”, “love, let me treat you tonight. please?”

;; flexes off his muscles in unreasonable times and teases you in a raspy voice. you could be standing and finding a book to read for your studies then he’d be leaning against the wall and stretch his muscles out; “baby. look at what im doing and stop reading that book. right NEOW.” (he broke character)

[eaglyn]

Mr. Crazy and Mrs. Crazier | Dottore x reader smut

Warning: gore, human experimentation, dismantling of a human heart, psychopathic behavior Not proofread

You were just about the perfect being that he could imagine. In his eyes, you were smart, entertaining and downright gorgeous. Normally, Dottore wouldn't think such things about anything he didn't create himself, but you? You were different. You were perfect.

You were a very successful graduate of the Sumeru Akademiya's Amurta Darshan, some even say that you're the most promising student the Amurta Darshan's ever had. That was arguable. On the other hand, it was an unarguable truth that you were insane. You had about as much regard for human life as Dottore, or maybe even less. They tried to change you for some time, after all your knowledge and talent was definitely in the wrong hands considering your usual projects, which more often than not included human experimentation.

Obviously, they failed. When Dottore joined the Akademiya, he heard news of you, and he was intrigued. He searched for you day and night, week after week until you finally decided to see what his deal was, and once you saw his... creative potential, to speak lightly, you decided to teach him all sort of messed up tips and tricks, from the easiest way to disassemble a human body to reconstructing a human body with mechanical parts.

And that should give anyone the understanding of why and how Dottore was kicked from the Akademiya. When they learned of your cooperation with him, they were all but thrilled. In fact, they were mortified.

Dottore and yourself turned into a wicked pair, eventually ending up serving the Tsaritsa, but while he became a Fatui Harbinger, you just remained in the shadows, but eventually earning the rank number 2.5, as you and him practically came as a package deal. You continued working together for centuries.

Unlike you, he had to resort do different means of achieving a long lifespan, but you were always by his side to give him new ideas and help him out with whatever he needed. As such, you went from his mentor to his lab assistant who would sit atop a countertop in his laboratory and entertain him.

Fatui agents would often hear howling laughter coming up from the lab as you two were working on a new project, and could only imagine which part of cutting young humans up was it that entertained the two of you so much.

In reality, you could turn anything into entertainment.

"Why are you holding the scalpel like that? It looks like you're trying to use it as a chopstick." You raised your eyebrows at one of his most recent techniques.

"Criticize all you want, princess, but it's easier from me to cut at this angle. See?" He maneuvered around the current test subject's ribs, attempting to cut her heart out, having a prototype machine in hand.

"Or you could've just removed the ribs? Why are you so afraid to put the device down, it's not like we didn't sanitize everything a few minutes before starting this experiment." You rolled your eyes.

"But we always take the ribs out, and putting them back is such a pain."

"For you. I thought I gave you a detailed demonstration on how to reattach nerves properly. Also, how do you want to take out the heart with everything still in the way?" You crossed your legs, feeling that you've won the debate.

"By taking it apart, of course. The machine is also attached piece by piece, so the lack of open space won't be a hindrance." He grinned back at you.

"Excuses, excuses." With that, you went back to constructing some random trinket out of spare parts.

After a while, he finally managed to remove the heart, taking all the bits in his hand and raising them in the air victoriously.

"AHA! I've succeeded- oh shit..." He dropped one of them onto the floor. He placed the prototype heart down onto a sterile field, along with the scalpel before walking over to you. "Here, I shall give you my heart." With that, he dropped the dismantled pieces onto your lap, staining your pants with blood.

"Ew, you ruined my pants!" You grabbed a few pieces and launched them at his face as a payback.

"How dare you? I give you my heart and you just throw it away? Why so cruel, Y/n?" Both of you break out laughing like maniacs as you continue throwing bits of the test subject's heart at each other.

"Alright, alright, let's compose ourselves now." You said, gathering the bits before throwing them into a jar.

Dottore installs the prosthetic heart and sews the person back up, and after he was done with that, the two of you transported her to a cell.

"Now we just wait to see if the transplant was successful." You hummed in response, glancing down at your bloodstained pants again.

"Oh come on, those are just pants, Y/n." The blue haired man said with his arms crossed over his chest.

"But I liked these pants." You pouted. They were white shorts tailor made for you, and you knew that you'd never be able to get the blood out of the expensive material.

"Well I prefer you without pants, you don't see me complaining." He stepped closer to you, settling himself between your legs as you sat on the countertop. "And without a shirt too."

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him, and he eagerly kissed back, while his hands were already creeping up on your torso underneath your shirt.

"In that case, remove them, Doc." And he just did that. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and lifted it over your head, attaching his lips to your neck while you pulled your arms out of the shirt, tossing it onto the ground.

You moaned softly as he continued sucking hickeys onto your soft skin, working on removing the belt from around your waist. When that was done, he pulled your pants down, tossing them onto the floor before going for your neck again, meanwhile his hand pulled your panties aside and he started rubbing your clit with two fingers. You threw your head back, moaning when you started feeling a knot forming in your stomach, but then he pulled his hand away.

"Oh come on." You said, scrunching up your eyebrows.

"It's not fair if you get all the fun and I don't get any." He said before stripping himself of his clothes and going back to you. He unclipped your bra, pulling it off of your body and tossing it away before hooking his finger around your panties and ripping them off.

He took a breast in his hand while using the other to rub the tip of his cock over your clit, lubricating it in the process.

"Please just put it in." You whined.

"As you wish, princess." With that, he shoved his cock into your entrance. No matter how many times you've done this, the first few seconds always hurt. His cock was big by all definition, almost too big. The length couldn't even fit all the way in, while the girth was so thick that you felt like your walls were being thorn apart each time. He slowly pulled out before going back in, letting you adjust a little before he started thrusting at a steady pace.

You hummed in pleasure, feeling his veins graze against your walls, and it was like a little spark ignited inside your stomach every time his tip kissed your cervix. He continued thrusting steadily until he started to see signs of impatience on your face. Then he decided to speed up, kissing you hungrily before doing so.

He shoved his tongue into your mouth as he was thrusting inside you, squeezing your breast once in a while as well. You were a moaning mess, gripping his muscular back with your hands.

The way he felt inside you was intoxicating. You were addicted to him. Only he could make you unfold this way. The way he kissed you with such lust and hunger, and he knew all your most sensitive spots. He knew just how to reach that sweet spot that made you scream out loud in pleasure each time, and when he'd do that, he'd speed up and start thrusting into you at an inhuman speed right afterwards. You felt like your insides were being rearranged, while he just grunted into your ear, telling you how nice and tight you were, just for him.

After all, nobody has seen you like this. Not for a very long time, at least. And you were only the happier to know that you were the only one that he fucked like this, and the only one that he'd keep in his lap, cockwarming him as he did paperwork or some other task that would be way too boring other wise.

And just as always, now too he managed to time his release to yours, and he moaned out loud as your walls clenched around them while he shot his cum deep into you.

But he didn't stop after that, he never does. He waits until you get down from your high before thrusting into your overstimulated pussy for three more rounds, until there is cum dripping down from the edge of the countertop and both of you are completely exhausted.

Dottore then grabs you by your thighs, his cock still buried deep inside you, and he sits down on a sofa, where you both take a nap.

At times like this, it's not only the psychopathic hollering of two maniacs that the Fatui Agents hear, but also the way that he makes you completely lose your mind in pleasure.

[screamingcrows]

Ceteris paribus - Dottore x reader

Note: Shhh it's almost 2am... This is.. yeah, this is something that's for sure. I'll uhh spread Aspergillus niger in your home if you use this for ai or similar. Tags: Dottore x fem!reader, afab reader, smut, porn with plot, plot with porn?, angst, teyvat speculation if you squint (don't), 4.5k Ceteris paribus - 'if everything else remains the same' Minors DNI

Faintly glowing nilotpala lotuses floated like stars, dotting the vast abyss of water. The sight you made among them had proclamations of divinity weighing on his tongue. Bathed in pale moonlight, your beauty was not something to be examined and explained, as much as the urge remained present, but rather a phenomena to simply enjoy.

Zandik found your form to hold his gaze hostage; not that he would willingly turn his head away even if he could. Glittering droplets gathered and trailed down your skin, mapping out a canvas of stars that he would soon enough pluck from your body and immortalize in the sky. Replacements would be needed after all, and what better substitute than something as beautiful as the natural patterns and grooves of the human body?

Standing by the edge of the dark pool of water, the thought of seeing it open up and swallow you whole wasn't too far-fetched. Already, countless leaves had drifted through the air and, upon touching the surface, been pulled under by some unseen force.

Or by curious fish.

Seeing you there alone made him wish for a heart to flutter, hands already undoing the straps of his outfit despite earlier proclamation of only following to keep watch. What harm could there be in letting himself - letting you both - have one last certain indulgence?

There was a flicker of doubt in his mind, would it be a more favorable outcome if you were to disappear into the abyss for that moment? Though every prediction and every piece of information that had been painstakingly gathered pointed towards the burning itself being harmless, there were always pesky variables and inevitable outliers.

Both part of the thrill and a curse, the world rarely operated precisely within the expectations of theory.

Zandik had no doubt that he would survive both the torching and the resulting onslaught, but you? A mourning flower, watered by adversity and flourishing despite it, resilient to a fault and yet just as delicate and fleeting as all purely organic life.

There were many things that he was happy to put to rest with the old world, but he would not let you be one.

His thoughts shifted with his position, body having gradually grown accustomed to the cool water that lapped around his ankles, he took a few tentative steps further into the lake. The bottom sloped gently, but he knew better than to charge forward without first feeling around for any sudden drops. A moment of tension as something passed between his calves was replaced with a frown upon seeing your amused expression.

Privacy was impossible with you, even if he was currently the one invading your swim.

"I thought you used to come here all the time," a scoff left his lips at your bubbly voice, warmth spreading to his ears, "has it been so long already that you've forgotten about all the dangerous creatures?"

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, his continued advance sending little waves through the water until he eventually lowered himself fully, relishing the familiar cradle of cool water. In Snezhnaya, the water was ill equipped for any type of leisurely bathing. Aside from the obvious frozen state of the vast majority, it had a sharp quality to it, as though frost resided in each droplet, prepared to bite the minute it touched something foreign.

"What a sharp tongue, careful it doesn't get you in trouble."

Maintaining the same air of superiority proved difficult when every stroke of his arms had water splashing, keenly aware of his tousled hair and the gradual increase in how much of it clung to his face. Seeing you barely suppressing a laugh, Zandik dove beneath the surface, body cutting through the darkness with practiced finesse.

It didn't exactly wash away the turmoil as part of him had dared to hope, but at least it was quiet with the constant press of water against his ears. Floating further ahead was your form, the curvature of your legs outlined by what little light pierced through as they kicked to keep you steady.

Getting close enough to touch, capture a priced catch, he surfaced again, relishing the spray of water from both his hair and your ensuing flailing. The change stung his eyes for a moment before he rubbed away lingering water, keeping the other arm wrapped firmly around your waist.

Always a skittish thing, it was a wonder you'd willingly chosen to stay so close. Not just chosen, he supposed, as you turned in his grasp and reached to wrap around his shoulders, allowing your warmth to seep into his mangled body, you'd insisted on staying against all reason.

Even now, with the false veil hanging by a thread and threatening to crush everything under the weight of its fall, you still steadied the hand holding the scissors. A small smile tugged at his lips, desire stirring to life, when your plush legs wrapped themselves securely around his waist.

Clearly aware of the effect, you seemingly took extra care to 'adjust' the positioning of your hips, intention so apparent that it only served to make his blood run a little hotter. Especially with how your ankles locked to squeeze him further. Clever little devil.

He couldn't help but purr in turn, lamenting the lack of leverage from being bereft of solid ground beneath his feet, "You are far too good," but that could be fixed, "maybe I should start calling you my little lotus?"

The tremble of your chest as you suppressed a giggle was nothing short of elating, palms continuing to languidly rub your sides. Even soaked, your natural scent still reached his nose upon nuzzling against the crook of your neck, crisp as Dawn's apples with an undertone of something a little more heavy.

"And what brought this on?"

"Because," he pressed his lips to the nape of your neck, tightening his hold enough to hopefully make a point, "you've started to smell like them from bathing here every night," his lips parted in a grin at your mumbled proclamation of his status as a 'creep', "and most importantly, you're much like my personal little nilotpala lotus."

With a clear goal in mind, and ignoring your whined protests and delightfully flushed face, bringing you back to solid ground was no difficult task, not even with how you were draped around him. The towels and blanket you'd brought were already neatly laid out where grass started to sprout, as though you'd been expecting this outcome from the beginning.

Perhaps he was somewhat predictable, the notion sending a foreign burst of warmth through him.

Your voice broke the comfortable silence, characteristic impatience for his antics shining through, "you're just not going to elaborate on the comparison?"

Still, you clung to him like some fragile animal, forcing him to carefully balance as he sat down, smirking at little at the perfectly presented opportunity to squeeze your rear in the process.

"And rob you of the joy of solving a mystery?" Zandik merely chuckled at the sting of your palm connecting with his chest, "I was only waiting for you to ask."

"But no long history lessons," your fingers spread out atop his chest, gently pushing him to lay back as if to dangle a reward for expediting the explanation.

"There are several reasons as to why the comparison is fitting," he lowered his voice, hands moving to caress your hips once he'd gotten comfortable on the makeshift pillow of clothes, "one of which being the direct similarity of your softness to that of its petals."

Zandik couldn't resist the urge to chuckle at how you rolled your eyes, a small pinch to your flank bringing your attention back.

It was impossible to resist the urge to gently chide, "Let me finish; but more than anything, they are, supposedly, a reminder from a bygone time. Every night they bloom in remembrance of their past before chaos erupted, yet they continue to persist in the present," a small roll of your hips had a pleasant tingle spread across his skin, "and, I do believe you bring luck as well."

That earned a huff and a kiss.

The stars above came into focus when his head dropped back fully, the feeling of your slick folds rubbing against his hard dick freeing a sound of contentment from his chest. Always so good to him, your labia was already slick with arousal when a shuddering gasp left you. Zandik's eyes fluttered open too late to catch your expression, determination fueling the exact repeat of the motion, dragging your along the veins of his cock until your nub caught against the head and your lips parted around a sigh.

You molded so perfectly against him, thighs shaping against his hipbones, his fingers sinking into the meat of your rear with perfect resistance, your walls practically trying to suck him in. Oh he needed so much more, to taste your essence, take you apart and let you do the same. He needed the weight of your breast in his palm and the softness of your lips contrasting his.

Plans and ideas swirled with ferocity, his own breath growing heavier and the sky practically spinning above, he'd barely noticed the frenzy with which he dragged your hips back and forth. A choked moan reached his ears, a sweet cacophony of your voice and his, mixing when determination set your eyes ablaze and a greedy jerk of your hips your cunt stretch around his gorged tip.

Despite having indulged far more over the years than his schedule should have allowed, the tight fit never failed to steal the air from his lungs. Now, it seemed you'd stolen the ability to breathe itself. White static danced in the corners of his eyes, sharp teeth digging into his own lip to stall the release that threatened to crash over him.

In a show of rare mercy, you passed down the opportunity to gather dirt to blackmail him with later, your thumbs rubbing along his collarbones. The smile you wore was enchanting, tranquility soon following and drowning out his body's cries for release.

Determined not to let the inherent uncertainty of the future rush this, Zandik closed his eyes while slowly guiding you to be fully seated. The little mewls that vanished into the night deserved to be etched in stone and preserved for the next eternity. When your hips rolled the first time, smooth skin still a little wet as it dragged against his hips, it was nothing short of exquisite, unity of both the simplest and most complex character.

The definition of a meaningful connection had shifted from what brought resources and opportunity to something horrendously intangible over the years, the shift pinpointed to a single variable entering his life. A pesky thing, not entirely unlike an infection in how it seemed insistent on wrestling control of his body and mind.

Pleasure built steadily once you'd adjusted, clearly eager from how you'd barely given yourself a moment of respite before lifting yourself back up. Liquid fire spread anew through his veins with every brush of your fingertips, soft as laying in a bed of flowers on the first day of summer. It wouldn't be long before that might be feasible.

Like a man compelled, his fingers moved to tangle in your hair, feeling a smile tug at his lips when your hips stuttered - he would make a snarky comment about it tomorrow. Though the fantasy of your petulant expression and flushed cheeks had anticipation mix with pleasure, right now, the thought consuming the vast majority of his mind was far more primal in nature.

Lost to the present moment, Zandik finally allowed himself to assist your eager movements, occasionally peering into your hazy eyes with no regard for posterity. You were squeezing him perfectly, walls clamping around him whenever he would pull the slightest away.

"Easy darling, save your strength for tomorrow," he brought your wrist to his lips, sucking gently where veins ran just beneath the skin.

A slow thrust had your thighs tightening around his waist, back arching deliciously and inviting Zandik to push himself up, wrapping his lips around a soft breast. The sounds that spilled unabashedly from your lips were downright sinful in their purity.

It was only later, in the afterglow left behind, that he realized how much tension seemed to have left his body during the act, manifested instead as blooming marks on your hips and little bites along your neck. You were presumable caught in the same state of lightness if how your fingers flexed experimentally.

Caught in the shifting leaves, Zandik only noticed your words when they were accompanied by your teeth nipping at his chest, surprised by the worry etched onto your expression. "Do you have faith in all our preparations?"

Understanding ran almost as deep as the bitterness that spread across his tongue, "Faith? What a preposterous notion for the occasion. I trust in myself, in our plans and their inevitable success. Every possible variable above minuscule importance has been carefully monitored for centuries and accounted for."

He hated how, even with arrogance coating his words, you still squeezed his hand a little tighter. Still pressed your body a little closer to soothe.

It made his voice weaker, vulnerable almost, and he hated that it was so far out of his control. "Destroying comes naturally, but what will happen when the thrones fall and the skies collapse has always eluded me. I dedicated myself to seeking beyond the limits to the rules of this world, I know the extent of possibility, but once that has been shattered? Once the rules I know exactly how to subvert have been-"

"We'll figure it out, together," your breath was the first sun of spring, "a new set of rules means plenty of tests to conduct."

A rough chuckle left his lips, even while he could feel the tremble of your body, you attempted to brighten the horizon.

This was unbearable.

How long had it been? Half an hour? Forty minutes? It didn't matter, it was too long. Especially for something as routine as fetching him some damned materials from the storage room.

And not even the one at the other end of the palace! No, it was literally thirty-two steps from the doors to his laboratory to the storage. At least with his own gait, and granted, he had a taller frame than most but-

Again. It didn't matter.

And why was it so warm in the laboratory? Dottore wiped a gloved hand across his brow, near growling at the realization that now he'd have to change them.

Why was everything falling apart? Of course it had to be today of all days.

"Do I have to do everything around here?"

The words were rough in his throat, more of a snarl even to his own ears, but it had the desired effect, countless of heads rising from their work to peer at him.

It took exactly three beats of his mechanically enhanced heart for them to turn their gazes away, frustration bubbling in his throat. Who did they think they were to so blatantly ignore him?

Dottore rolled his shoulders back, making certain that his heels would click obnoxiously against the hard stone floors during his patrol around the room.

It was a plan in two steps. At least it was when it was boiled down to the most basic division.

The old world would burn. The Crimson Moon would supply the necessary spark, quite possibly eager to exact vengeance on the offending power that claimed her sisters. The branches they'd stolen had been engulfed with a vigor not replicated by presenting the flames with any other material.

Glass crashed to the ground and was crushed under the steel toe of his boot. It was a redundant piece anyway. Production and research on Delusions had been halted a few months ago, stocks being enough to supply their troops and a decent amount in reserve.

Once the threads of fate had been severed, the remains of the Third Descender would be used to tether a new possibility. Insignificant by themselves, they would pose no threat, but with all seven in their hands, the oppressor would be sealed away.

The light wasn't searing his eyes today, perhaps they'd finally been replaced with something less intrusive than the glaring whites.

There would be nothing written on the pages that came after.

Just a few more tests.

Papers scattered with a flick of his wrist, clearing out space for the the leatherbound tome in his hands. Old drawings fell from between the pages, things Dottore hadn't seen in decades. Perhaps even longer.

Someone was screaming again. It took a moment for his mind to tune properly in to the sound, a pang of something coursing through him as his own voice rang through the room. Everything seemed to tremble beneath his wrath, even his hands were shaking.

The gloves were black leather, not dotted red with blood.

He hadn't slept for a week had he?

Resigned to the fate of needing to change his gloves anyway, rubbing at the stubble that grew on his chin was a necessary comfort. Just a little longer and all of his work would come to fruition.

Dottore could practically taste the sweetness of your lips. How he yearned to stand beside you and warm his hands by the fire.

Just a little longer and-

-maybe that imbecile of a subordinate would return with his supplies.

His head snapped up when something creaked. Despite several people milling about, it was eerily quiet.

Someone else should have already confirmed the concentration of the isolate, but with how dull everyone seemed as of late, it might be wise to asses it himself. He'd have to do a dilution series, and how many cuvettes would he need?

A curse left Dottore's lips at the same time his hands slammed onto the table. Those were in storage as well weren't they?

His eyes flickered around, pushing away the frustrating shadow in his periphery, a few more days and he'd have time to properly look at whatever had his mask malfunctioning.

The laboratory should be properly insulated, any outside interference was unwanted in a controlled environment such as this.

How many days were left before their plans would be set into motion was a blurred memory, something he would need to check soon.

Nothing seemed remiss in the little village, the sight of children playing with a single kite making your chest feel entirely too tight. The sun continued to shine, clothes already out to dry while the adults tended the gardens nearby. It might be more fitting to call them fields, there was little regard for private property these days, and sharing had proven far easier when the same people had aided in constructing homes, no matter how simple.

Flowers had started blooming as well, their scent a desperately needed change from the smoke that had choked the skies for weeks. With gravel crunching beneath your feet, the unease that coursed through your veins was momentarily stifled.

By all means, Teyvat was at peace.

Though you were on amicable terms with the inhabitants here, they eyed you warily, with varying degrees of pity in their eyes whenever you came to trade. Zandik himself refrained entirely from going, and everyone seemed content to keep him out of sight. Most had come to understand that there was nothing malicious about your partner, but you couldn't blame them for not forgetting the past.

It was an agreeable arrangement, much better than either of you had dared to hope. A small cot in what remained of the forest of what had been Sumeru, a peaceful existence with the sounds of nature providing the backdrop.

Pantalone had settled in the ruins of Liyue, Capitano had perished, Columbina disappeared with Arlecchino… Of all the harbingers, you were grateful for the fate that had been bestowed on your Zandik.

Even if-

A small hand tugging on your skirt nearly startled you, looking down to see an expression of concern etched onto the face of a young boy. With the skies clearing, his skin was already looking far better than last you saw him.

Several other children were huddled around the open space, all shuffling their feet nervously and evidently trying their best not to stare. With time, they'd hopefully forget what they'd seen and never have to cower like this.

"I heard him last night," there was a fair bit of caution in his voice, and you tried to smile reassuringly over your thundering heart, "he went that way… I think…"

Your feet ached from making haste through the dense undergrowth, hands scratched up from the countless times you'd tripped on a loose stone or hidden root. It was ridiculous to get so worked up, he'd been the Second Harbinger, strength to go up against the divine, and he'd won.

But he hadn't been home since yesterday, and that alone had spectral insects crawling beneath your skin and your hearth threatening to flee your chest. Would he come home this time?

Mindless swatting at mostly imaginary insects did nothing to dissipate the fog of anxiety that hung around you. The boy had confirmed your suspicion, unknowingly having pointed towards one of the old underground workshops.

It could be a coincidence of course. Zandik could be sitting bare-footed in a stream just a little further ahead, pulling in brightly colored axe marlins to supply your meals. He could have gotten so absorbed that he'd lost track of time and opted to camp outside rather than stumble through a dark forest.

You were fully aware that it was wishful thinking.

How many times you'd trudged this way was uncertain, fingers skimming the edges of stone that marked an upper corner of the facility. Signs had been put up where the ground had opened up into the complex to avoid anyone carelessly falling in. A knot formed in the pit of your stomach, the sounds of glass shattering reaching your ears from below.

Rubble was scattered in the hallways and opportunistic vines and roots had begun spilling into the vast network. The complex had been abandoned long before the final confrontation with Celestia, a time capsule from when Zandik himself stayed in Sumeru to conduct preliminary studies on the power of dreams and forbidden knowledge. From what you understood, it had served The Doctor and his pursuits well,

It made the air heavy with misplaced gratitude and relief.

Stone knocked against your back as you stumbled aside, startled a sharp pang followed by metallic clatter. Still with your heart in your throat, you staggered forward through the haze of tears clouding your vision.

"Why doesn't it work? It has to work. It should work. Everything is right. It's all correct- I just have to finish it- the deadline!" Another crash, the glass shards no sharper than his continued shouts, "There's so little time left I have to-"

Sparse sunlight filtered through and illuminated the ruins of what must have been a laboratory in its prime. You forced your lungs to work despite how every breath seared your throat. The tentative call of his name gave no result.

Zandik was hunched over a slanted desk, one wooden leg broken and threatening to give out. A few metallic tables were scattered around the room, two of them pushed against a wall as if to block out something. Every cupboard had been opened and the contents of several emptied onto the floor. How much was the work of Zandik, you wondered.

"Why won't anyone listen to me? Don't any of you know how to do your jobs properly? Get me those damn supplies or I'll-" two and a half vial clinked together with every restless knock of his fist against the table, "I'll tie a rope around your waist, throw you into the abyss, and dissect whatever I can pull back out!"

Another breath, hands trembling as they reached for him, fully anticipating the way his body jerked and twisted. It didn't make it any less upsetting.

Zandik sneered when your hands cupped stubbled cheeks, and for a moment you wondered if he'd bite like a rabid beast. You nearly choked on a sob at seeing the crudely folded paper that covered the top of his face, holes haphazardly torn to allow him to see. His hair was dirty and tangled, his clothes in no better state.

Soothing shushes left your lips in a steady stream, thumbs continuing to pet his skin and rub the dust from rubble away, thankful that the artificial lights were long broken. His shirt could be mended and washed.

"Zandik, I need you to-"

He howled like a wounded beast, thrashing when you pushed away his paper mask, "Don't call me that! Useless- useless, you're all useless!"

Even disoriented, his grip was iron when his fingers locked around your arms. Tears were running down your cheeks, ignoring the blood that dripped from where his nails had pierced skin. Still, you refused to let go of his face.

"Zandik please.. look around you.. it's over, we- you did it.. let's go home.."

For a moment, the fog seemed to clear a little from his eyes as they flickered back and forth, taking in the scenery anew. A shiver ran through him, hands letting up their grip on your arms in favour of gently feeling along them, confirming your existence.

Irminsul had burned and people's memories had been the price. None more affected than the man who'd held the torch.

It had yet to be determined what exactly had happened to Zandik, resources weren't abundant enough to prioritize anything but survival. And even if they were, he'd barely had a moment lucid enough to properly process your sobbed attempts at explanation.

Perhaps he hadn't been woven into the new tapestry of fate, or maybe his grandest achievement, his beloved eyes in time, had tethered him more firmly to the old threads rather than freeing him. More than once, his hands had held your head close to his chest, just as they did now, and shushed cries that he would never grasp the cause of.

"It will all get better my lotus," your heart already clenched, desperate cries begging to freeze time in place before he continued with his hushed words, "…just a little longer and we'll all be free…"

[becstxr]

Foreseen future || 1 (EDITED)

Of all things to happen in your life, being sold to the two harbingers of whom you sought as most feared. The Regrator and The Doctor. Being blind didn't help much you didn't know what was happening until you heard the voices of the two harbingers.

"Dear Regrator, why must you take my funds to buy such things. My research is far more important then some street rat whose blind. even if she is quite a mythical Beauty... unless you bought her for my experiments..?" His voice had the distasteful husk in it, one that made you feel like your flesh was being singed from the bone. The Regrator, growled lightly filled with distaste as to what his 'business' companion was trying to suggest. "Such a captivating being is not for such things Doctor..." The Regrator's voice was so much nicer to listen too in comparison to The Doctors, his voice was smooth and velvety and gave off the feeling of wind when the temperature is at the perfect level, making you feel like your floating. The two, started to whisper most likely thinking I couldn't hear them, I could and it only scared me more. "Do you not know the joys of owning such beauty's as her? No one else gets to look at her, no one else gets to touch her, she all ours my beloved Dottore." Hearing that last word made me feel like a thousand Rifthounds where chewing on my intestines. "...Well... maybe it won't be that bad... I still wish to do experiments though, harmless ones at you request?" His voice sounded humored and it didn't help that knawing felling in my tummy. Tears swelled in my eyes behind the bandages that covered my eyes, and my breath turned ragged catching the attention of the two harbingers. "my darling~ do not cry!" The whine The regrator let out just sounded plain degrading, as he quickly walked over and cupped my cheeks. "We won't hurt you~ oh no~ We're simply going to look after you! We'll feed you, clothe you, bath you, your our little angel now!" his voice was strangely calming and it made me quite sleepy. "So obedient~ How about I give you a little treat? hmm? I'll get my servants you a nice warm bath, wash your hair, then I'll feed you, put you in a nice little dress to sleep in and let you sleep. doesn't that sound nice? It does doesn't it dear." I nodded my head obediently as he pulled me closer lifting me up and carrying me out of whatever room I was in, I heard The Doctor's footsteps as he followed suit. I heard doors open before a violently cold wind kissed my skin and the Regrator walked forward. The Regrator then put me down, making sure the Doctor was right behind me incase I tried to run. I heard the Regrator move into something creaky before I heard a horse snort, I felt hands around my waist lift me up and another pair grab me before I was put into (presumably) the Regrators lap. The Doctor got in immediately after and the two started talking about funds, upcoming fatui events and the Doctors experiments. It took about an hour before the carriage stopped came to a halt.

The doctor opened the carriage door letting the cold wind once again kiss my skin, he exited before I was pushed up by the Regrator and pulled down by the doctor. The Regrator held my waist and lead me inside before a bunch of various voices greeted the two, they took some form of clothing from the harbingers before the Regrator spoke. "Give her a bath and clean her, once your finished bring her to my room, don't clothe her just give her a robe." A gloved hand encased me own hand before the arm around my waist dissipated and two sets of footsteps retreated. "This way miss." A male voice said as I was lead away, after a small while I heard a door open before I entered a warm humid room. I was told to sit before the bandages on my eyes where removed. "please stand miss, we need to remove your clothes and put you in the tub." I nodded my head awkwardly and let them do so, after being put in the tub various people gently rubbed my skin with soft cloths as one of them gently cleansed me hair. "You can relax miss, you've probably been through a lot. Lord Regrator is a nice man you can trust him." A woman spoke, from the distance and direction of her voice she was the one washing my hair. I nodded my head as thanks for her kind words. After a half hour I was dressed in a robe and lead out of the room, The woman of whom washed my hair was leading me telling me I was very lucky. we stopped before she knocked on a door and the Regrator spoke. "Come in." the doors opened and I was lead inside. "We bathed her and cleaned her as requested Lord Regrator, and the food will be ready in about a half hour." "Very well bring her here." I assumed that was the end of the conversation as I was lead forward and another pair of hands held onto my waist, The woman's footsteps retreated before the door was closed. There was a pause before the Regrator spoke. "Now lets find you a nice dress too sleep in, Which ones your favorite Dottore?" "You know I do not care for such things Pantalone, I your the one who wanted her." I still didn't like his voice it just brang alarm. "I apologies for proceeding to ask your opinion on things. How about the navy one? with the lace?" "I do not care pantalone." "very well the navy one it is, won't you be a dear and get it for me Doctor!" I heard a scoff before I heard him stand up and walk away, a door opened and the sound of ruffling clothes could be heard before his footsteps got closer again.

The Regrator removed my robe before putting the small dress on me, He the pulled me into his lap and moved forward. In turn the sound of scribbles on paper could be heard. I sat stiffly in his lap for about an hour before I began to get tired and yawned. "Tired darling? I'll lay you on the couch you can sleep there." The Regrator said as he held me close standing up and walking around, I was gently placed down and some form of fabric was placed over me. the Regrators footsteps slightly dissipated before the sound of a chair creaking was heard and the scribbles started up again. Slowly my eyes shut and I feel asleep to the sounds of the Harbingers scribbles.

I need requests bc idk what to write about. so- yeah- and if you want to make regular requests just pick an emoji and ask to be that anon I'll literally write abt anything.

[glassrowboat]

Curled Gloves. Dottore.

Summary: At work, everything seems the same, the same monotony, the same red eyes on you, the same - seriously though, Dottore, can you stop staring?

Authors note: Just me trying to do a character study. Need to learn how to write for this man <(_ _)> Will probably delete later.

Oh, and for those curious, the type of welding reader is doing is called TIG

Let the puddle build and pull back, keep the nozzle in place for steady gas flow, feed the filler through your fingers with every passing second as you once again dip the rod into the bright orange and red pool the was forming under your hands. Your handiwork.

Don't weave.

Don't press down too much and accidentally increase the heat.

Keep your hands steady.

All something you've done time and time again that this action is so ingrained in your brain it has become second nature. As they say, one can never forget how to ride a bike. Welding is much the same.

So why were you struggling so much today? Well the answer was right there as you moved your foot off the pedal, looming over the work that wasn't even fully done up with a half finished bead as, through your hood, you looked up at the man who was staring you down this entire time.

Dottore. Or Prime. Or whatever you wanted to call him, really. That mask he always donned an unwelcome sight.

He always wore it around the lab, hiding his face away like it was some grand secret that only those must trusted could possibly bear witness to; yet you've seen it all the same. An accident, of course. A bad habit of yours was to forget your keys basically everywhere. Desk? Check. Lunch table? Check. The lab? An unfortunate check that meant coming face to face with a pair of red eyes glaring at you as you quickly ran out.

You never did get your keys then, having to beg the apartment management to let you in.

“You're staring.”

Dottore's head cocked ever so slightly to the side as he asked “is that a problem?”

Oh how you wanted to pop his blueberry head for lingering over you for so long, much alike to when a teacher passes you by during an exam and they make a remark about the test right after staring at your paper. But, it's not like you could. Even if imagining it did help get through the work day as he flitted about. A fly you couldn't wave off buzzing in your ear.

“It is, so stop it.”

“Ordering a harbinger around won't do anything for you, welder. Remember your station as you speak to me.”

That card again. It was enough to have you placing the filler rod down to keep yourself from being tempted to jam it into his ear. Its pointed tip, from being melted down, truly was a tempting sight. And it was like he could read your thoughts, or maybe the twitch of your fingers, as he picked it up. Toying with it between his fingers.

“Your gloves are too big for you. I didn't know you felt the need to use a man’s equipment.”

Your eyes shot down to those yellow gloves, curled from both heat and lack of anything properly filling them out.

“It's all I have.”

“What of the pair you had when you first came here?”

“Caught on fire.”

Dottore's mouth opened only for him to pinch his lips closed.

“I suggest you try and tell me about a lack of equipment. I don't need your work coming out as anything less than I know you're capable of because of something easily fixed.”

Well, he did order you to ‘help’ with building the prototype to that false God project, so it does make sense he trusts what you can do. The project was a pain trying to understand his scribbled notes in the margins; the blueprint itself was readable. He deserves credit for that, at least.

And those yellow gloves, they weren't the ones you used when building the Shiki- No- That's not it. Shouki no Kami baby version.

“Fine, I need smaller gloves.”

There was no ‘now was that so hard’ like you were expecting, no snark (the younger versions of him would have), not even a curl of his lip in satisfaction of winning out this bickering tournament. Just a nod. Just a: “I'll be sure to tack them on to next week's orders.”

“Thank you.”

Plucking the filler rod from his pinched fingers you held it close to the piece you were currently working on, just about to get back to work as he started to make his way to the door. Most likely to head back to the lab proper where all the researchers keep themselves locked away with bottles of chemicals and things of the like.

“And one last thing.” The clicking of his boots stopped, no longer clicking against the tile as he stood before the door to leave. One hand pressed to the handle yet refusing to turn it. “Simply come to me if this incident occurs again. I don't need to find out days or weeks later.”

“Of course, sir.”

“In the meantime, I think it would be best for you to take something else. You can record the stock for me, or there's holes that need to be drilled in the base plate for that project Alpha was never able to finish.”

“Drilling holes with gloves too big for me? That's a good way to get them trapped in the rotary and my finger snapped like a pencil.”

You have heard occasions of it happening to others before, and oh boy, does that not sound fun. Hard pass on that one.

“I will not have you standing around doing nothing when there is work to be done. Time is a valuable asset, welder.”

The door was pushed open as he looked back at you, the faintest sound of the heating from the hallway buzzing in your ears. In here there wasn't really a need for that, not when you could prop the door open and get to work. The job warmed you up well enough.

“Just simply do without them.”

“Do without my gloves?”

That's a good way to get your hands all scratched up. Metal shavings flying in the air weren't exactly screaming ‘this is safe’ to anyone. If anything, that seemed like a great spin on a weapon, something akin to a gun just blasting out bits of sharp metal.

Best to keep that thought in your mind unless you want Dottore getting hyper fixated on something again only to forget about it in a week.

“It is within regulations.”

His boot was already crossing the threshold of the door, leaving you as you threw the gloves off to the side. Useless things they were.

‘Never thought I'd complain about going at it raw, but here we are.’

“And one last thing.”

Taking your hood off you let it fall down to the table before you with a clatter. Your hair is probably a mess, but it mattered little in a place like this when everyone else around you is covered in ash and dirt. Well, besides Dottore of course.

“Next time you come back to the lab late at night without first getting permission, I won't let you simply walk away. Remember that for the next time you leave your keys behind.”

The door closed behind him, leaving you as it suddenly fell quiet. Hum cut off mid cycle of its usual pattern.

In the end, you still wanted to pop his blueberry head, even when the proper sized gloves were there for you to use at the beginning of the next work day.

[catscidr]

flowers blossom beneath the scalpel - chapter one: painfully punctual

chapter warnings: none, just banter and storybuilding wc: 3,2k

Fontaine is a beautiful region, but especially so during the evening. The moonlight reflecting the calm waves of nearby bodies of water onto nearby buildings, lamp posts illuminating the polished cobblestone streets and the bustling nightlife coming alive while the businessmen and women hastily strut through the streets to get back home so they can finally rest after a long day of hard work. Younger people chatting away and catching up on whatever drama that had been circulating around the city lately, blissfully unaware of how loud they were being as some older, more cranky residents give them nasty looks in hopes they would be a little quieter with their gossip. And then some people closing shop, cleaning around their store or booth setup, making sure the area stays clean for the next day. 

You were currently anxiously dusting off even the smallest, most insignificant surfaces of your flower shop in Vasari Passage- the pleasant smell of freshly plucked pluie lotuses wafting in the air unfortunately did little to ease your nerves. You kept running around in circles, going from fixing the window setup to restocking various items, to sweeping the floor for the millionth time. 

Part of why you were so on edge, more so than usual, was because of Fontaine’s new relationship with the nation of eternal frost. 

Snezhnaya and Fontaine had been on rough terms, issues between one of their diplomats and the eccentric Hydro archon unknown to the public until the Iudex of Fontaine declared that they would begin to rekindle the nation’s relationship slowly, starting with the civilians and locals. Unfortunately, the florist was one of the people involved to service an incoming Snezhnayan diplomat that would visit the region to study its flora. Something about research about the flowers’ medicinal abilities; Neuvillette explained the whole process, however you missed some parts of what he said because of how stressed you were. All you knew was that the Snezhnayan was supposed to arrive at any given moment, and you were still closing shop, far behind your self-imposed schedule. 

The whirlwind of thoughts only served to make your blood pressure spike to levels it usually doesn’t reach. Thanks to the panicked movements, while sweeping the floor you managed to accidentally knock over a porcelain flowerpot with the broom handle when you turned around abruptly. A loud crash resounds in the small shop, making you yelp loudly in surprise. 

“Fuck!” you exclaim noisily, whipping around to gawk at the broken pieces of clay scattered all across the floor you had just broomed. Grumbling a self-deprecating monologue to yourself under your breath, you round the corner to grab the dustpan and quickly clean up your mess. 

While you were busy making sure every little piece of porcelain was off the floor, you failed to notice the presence of someone else in the shop. 

The person in question wore a large white coat adorned by fluffy black fur around the collar with a Fatui emblem on their right shoulder. The cloak was lavishly decorated with embroidery, silver and royal blue threads adding some color to their otherwise gloomy-looking attire. They had messy icy blue hair, some locks softly curling around the sides of their face to frame their cheekbones. Though their face was mostly hidden by their black and white mask, their crimson eyes were visible and shone brightly with mischief, doing little to hide their expression of amusement. 

They chuckled under their breath while looking down at the frantic florist. During their long trip to come to the region of hydro, they had missed seeing people tremble with fear and, even though this person wasn’t exactly reacting in consequence to their actions, they still enjoyed the sight. But duty called- they couldn’t bask in the woman’s misery for too long. 

Plus, they had to maintain an amicable relationship with Fontaine anyways... The whole reason they’re here.  

“Ahem,” they cough audibly, raspy voice echoing in the otherwise quiet store. The sound of a voice other than your own made you jolt, accidentally pricking your index with a shard of porcelain that you hadn’t cleaned up from the floor yet. You stand upright immediately, turning around again, but this time to face the stranger. Met with the sight of an unfamiliar man but a familiar uniform, you can only deduce that he’s, in fact, not a burglar and had a good reason to come in the store even though the sign said ‘CLOSED’ outside. Even if he kind of looks like a criminal. 

“Hello! Good evening!” you stammer nervously, dusting off your apron. The movement made you cringe inwardly, injured finger stinging slightly with pain. “You’re the diplomat from Snezhnaya, right?” you ask politely. 

“That I am,” he says with a nod, tilting his head to glance around the store. He makes a slow scan of the flower arrangements around the shop, whether because he was actually curious, or to stall and make you even more nervous, you couldn’t tell; it may as well have been both. His gaze flickers back to the florist, locking eyes with you. You visibly flinch, much to his delight. 

“Il Dottore,” he says simply, with an easy smile. 

You blink, heartbeat slowly calming down. Seems like he wasn’t going to rob or kill you, despite what your anxious mind made you believe for a split second.  

You introduce yourself and give him your name with a nod and a forced, customer service-like smile. 

The two of you stand in awkward silence for a few moments. You look at his attire, equally in awe and in fear and he stares down at you, his expression unreadable. 

“Would you like me to teach you some... uh, stuff about our regional specialties, then?” you ask quietly, deeply unsure of how to go about this. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Shouldn’t he be asking about whatever information he needed? You fiddle with a frayed thread on your apron, eyes moving from the warm, comforting familiarity of your shop to the cold unfamiliarity of the Harbinger in front of her. To your surprise, the man laughs. A hearty, genuine laugh- though it didn’t seem like it was because he thought you were funny. When he finally calms down, he scoffs and crosses his arms beneath his cloak. 

“No.” 

Dottore’s answer was firm and straight to the point. With that, all you can think of doing is shutting up and waiting for him to say something since your attempt didn’t really do anything productive. The mood shifted in such little time, your poor mind reeling with what if scenarios as Dottore simply stands confidently, not affected by the atmosphere in the slightest.  

So much for rekindling the nations’ relationship, you think to yourself. 

“I’ll take a couple of plant samples, though.” he says abruptly, suddenly tired of the silence. The Harbinger had a cold tone, bored of whatever wasn’t happening, like he was used to wreaking havoc for his own morbid pleasure. You shudder at your passing thoughts, swallowing audibly. 

“Of course,” you respond after a moment of hesitation. Taking one last look at the man, you turn around and head into the storage unit. You were expecting the Harbinger to follow but the absence of his footsteps said otherwise; breathing out a sigh of relief, you take a moment to let your overworked body rest, shoulders slumping and head drooping down as you press a hand on your chest. It was beating so, so fast- too quickly for it to be considered a normal heart rate. But, being (mostly) used to it, you click her tongue in annoyance and lift your head up, ready to scan the shelves to pick out the worst-looking plants out of spite and childish rebellion. 

The shelves were only going to be restocked in three days, which left the storage room more barren than it usually was. Unfortunately, Dottore would have to come back if he wanted more samples, fresher plants, or if he had any questions about their properties. Unfortunately, that means you’re going to have to see him again, which you’re already dreading- even though he hasn’t left the store yet. With an irritated huff you grab a small plant of rainbow roses, lumidouce bells and two marcotte plants to make up for the lack of... everything else. After making sure that the more fragile plants won’t slip out of your arms, you carefully walk out to the open area of the store, where Dottore was silently observing a simple, plain sweet flower. Prodding and poking at the plant, he didn’t bother turning around to speak up. 

“Are you just going to stand there all night?” he asks. In the dim light of the flower shop, you felt equal parts intimidated and... reassured? You felt an odd sense of peace wash over you, seeing such an intimidating man handle a flower so carefully- you didn’t think he would handle the plants with such care, being the man that he is. 

You take a few steps towards him, tilting your head to look at what he was doing. “A sweet flower?” you ask in a hushed tone, almost afraid that being too loud will make him mad at you. 

“A sweet flower from Fontaine,” he specifies, a hint of irritation in his voice. “Although found all over Teyvat, everything evolves in different ways depending on where it resides, and plants are no different.” Dottore turns to glance at you for a second, then looks back down at the sweet flower, a frown on his face. “If you were to take this one,” he holds a petal between his thumb and forefinger, “and plant it somewhere in Dragonspine, it would die.” 

He lets go of the flower and lets his arm rest at his side, hidden by his large cloak once more. 

“If you were to take a mint from Mondstadt and plant it in Sumeru, it would die too.” He straightens his back and takes a proper look at your skittish figure, looking down at you with an unreadable, yet stern expression. “I want to study their differences. To know how they survive.” To exploit their properties, he thought. This was the most he had spoken since he got here, yet you almost wish he had stayed quiet instead. 

Taking in his words, you swore you heard a hint of what seemed to be a quiet threat to his otherwise smooth voice. But, again, you chalked it up to your head messing with you, ignored the feeling of dread pooling in your stomach and nodded slowly, even though you didn’t really understand what he was getting at with his explanation. He probably just liked hearing himself speak, you thought to yourself, scoffing. 

“So... would you rather I give you some sweet flowers and mints?” you ask with a raised brow, growing tired of being so on edge because of him. You should have been home ages ago. The man doesn’t catch your irritation (or rather, doesn’t seem to care about it) and nods, saying something about you actually making yourself useful that you brush off indignantly with an uninterested slow blink and brows that were furrowed ever so slightly. 

Instead of lamenting your precious time lost that could have been spent staring at your phone scrolling through social media until you fell asleep, you go back to the storage room and bring back a pot of sweet flowers and a plant of mint. When you get back to where Dottore stood, you immediately spot another man with him. He had dirty blonde hair and a gray mask on his face that covered half of his face, though his mask had black eyes drawn on instead space cut out for his eyes to shine through. You wonder how he can see through that thing, in comparison to Dottore’s mask. They were busy speaking- or more like the doctor was speaking to the shorter man while the latter nodded feverishly- but you couldn’t catch what he was saying. Though from the sight of the flowers you had previously brought in his arms, you assumed it was something like put these away so I can dissect them later or something along those lines. 

The man bows at Dottore and leaves with the plants. Deciding not to question him, you just come up to the Harbinger and place the new batch of flowers on the counter in front of him. 

“Here. Now did you want to discuss anything else?” you ask with a quiet sigh, though you try to keep your pitch higher so you don’t sound too tired. A habit from working a customer service job for so long. 

In response, Dottore’s lips curl into a small smirk and in the same cocky attitude as before, crosses his arms while turning around to have a better look at you. 

You wore a short-sleeved beige button-down with the flower shop’s signature steel blue apron over it along with black, skintight shorts that ended right below your knees. There were a couple of small tears and signs of distress on the hem of the skirt, but it seemed to be well-taken care of, nonetheless. Plain, slightly worn white sneakers finished off the uniform and, though simple, it had its charm. You had a multitude of bruises and cuts on your hands and knees; although small, they decorated your skin with hues of pink, blue and faded yellow from previous accidents on the job. You kept a pair of shears in your apron’s front pocket as well as a pen and what appeared to be a small notebook. Pushing up your large glasses, you shift your weight on your other foot impatiently- clearly a little irritated by how long it was taking the doctor to speak. 

“That won’t be necessary,” he says with a dismissive wave, shaking his head softly. “I need to get back to work myself. And you,” he huffs, his smirk dropping ever so slightly, “need to watch your tone.” 

You stared at the man; expression unwavering aside from the dumbfounded blinks you couldn’t help herself from... blinking. Were you supposed to tell him about your most sincere apologies after his rude display of attitude? Double down on your true thoughts about him and start insulting him? As far as you knew, you just looked a little tired. 

For a second, you were tempted to respond with a witty remark of your own to match his energy but, remembering who you were dealing with, you put that thought aside for now. 

“...sorry about that,” you mutter sheepishly, flustered that someone was actually confronting you about your lack of overly enthusiastic customer service attitude. “I’m not technically on the clock so I just...” 

As you continue to elaborate, you trail off and stop talking to prevent yourself from digging yourself into an even deeper hole. Looking up at the doctor, you shoot him an awkward grin and look away as you await the inevitable reprimand. But instead of scolding her, all Dottore does is shrug and scoff at your excuse.  

“You’re in severe lack of a backbone, don’t you think?” he asks with a strained, fake grin. 

Dumbfounded once again, all you can do is blink at the doctor. Once, and then twice. You shut your mouth, which had been slightly ajar from the shock of how boldly he spoke, and somehow kept yourself together, not wanting your body to be brutally mutilated and never found again. While you deal with your inner conflict, Dottore grabs the plant samples and makes his way towards the front door of the flower shop. 

“I’ll see you soon enough,” he says, purposely brushing his arm against your shoulder to make you stumble backwards. Knocked out of your dazed state, you shoot him a weak glare and mutter I hope not under your breath before holding the door open for him, a habit that you can’t get rid of since you started working with the general public. Dottore scoffs, obviously holding his tongue as he simply rolls his eyes in response to your quip. 

“Try not to be in such a sour mood next time. I’d hate to do something impulsive to correct that attitude of yours,” is all he says as he whisks himself away in the dim cobblestone streets, light footsteps slowly growing quieter the more distance he puts between the two of you. 

You stay standing at the door for a second, narrowing your eyes at the man you not only met about an hour ago, but already have beef with. Thinking back on the exchange, you couldn’t tell if you had done anything wrong to set him off or if he was just another one of those entitled rich men that thought they could get away with being dickheads just because they have a powerful job; you can only sigh and thank the archons that he left before you accidentally made the situation worse. 

Turning around, you head back into the flower shop to quickly cross out the stock you had given out to Dottore for free and make a quick note to mention it to Neuvillette next time you see him. The silence in the store was very welcome, your pounding heart finally able to relax while you lean over the counter to write down the details on what happened so that the Iudex could write it off as a business expense. At least this wouldn’t come out of your own pockets. 

Putting the document away in the desk behind the cash register counter, you take off your apron and hang it on the coat hanger in the break room. The four walls seemed almost too bare, too quiet at this time of day. With the lights being turned off, only the moonlight shone through to illuminate the surface of the small coffee table in the middle of the room, surrounded by a handful of less-than-comfortable chairs. 

With one last glance at the room, you grab your bag from the hanger and head out of the shop, locking the door carefully. If anything, at least the place looked fresher from how intensely you cleaned up earlier- you won’t have to do too much cleaning when you come back to work tomorrow. 

“Tomorrow...” you murmur to yourself with a groan. You take out your phone from your bag and hold back another, more dramatic groan- it was half past midnight. 12:32AM. Clicking your tongue, you shove the phone back in your tote, picking up the speed to get back to your flat before it got even darker outside.  

The streets were mostly barren, save for the handful of bars that had people occasionally stumbling out to get some fresh air. For a second, you briefly considered going in for a drink, but after a second of critical thinking, realize that the inevitable hangover wouldn’t be worth it. That and you might just throw your drink at a man if he looked at you the wrong way. The only remedy for your foul mood is your comfortable, warm bed and some good food to soothe your tired body and mind.  

With the sound of bar music fading away, your footsteps quicken as you get more and more excited to go home when, finally, you unlock your apartment door and fling your shoes off, collapsing onto your bed with a tired, dramatic groan- calling it a night. 

a/n: heheeee hi. hello. (゜▽゜;) this is a (very self indulgent) fic i started ages ago. i originally wrote it for myself but i edited it so it could be read as an x reader fic instead of oc/selfship x reader. idk if anyone's even going to like it but that's fine either way, i have a plot planned out for this and i intend on actually going through with it, unlike the dozen of unfinished fics and ideas i have in my laptop. So. consider this a gift from me to u, dear dottore enjoyer reading this. smoochies ٩(◦`꒳´◦)۶ if anyone wants more of this lmk because im nervous about posting this LOL (reader doesn't have a set appearance but i Do describe her work uniform and mention that she wears glasses, just fyi). apologies in advance if this reads a bit awkwardly i had to change it from third person to second person lolol it wont be like that for the entirety of the fic, just the first chapter and like half of the second one. n e ways

next chapter -> ch. 2

[akunoniwa]

Prying

AN: i feel kinda evil bc the ending is sorta abrupt but this shit was getting too long babes... unless?

Synopsis: In which you and Dottore discuss pet names in conversation at first, putting them to good use not too long after...

Pairing: Il Dottore x fem!reader

Warnings: MDNI, Dottore finds your humiliation to be v irresistible..., use of 'master', 'daddy' (once! hear me out lmao), etc., mirror sex

WC: ~5.2k (she's long-winded, sorry, i think...)

You don’t understand the appeal.

As soon as you mentioned off-hand to Dottore that you didn’t understand why some thought it was hot to refer to their partners as ‘daddy’, he wouldn’t let you live it down. Not only did he find this addictingly humorous, but he also found himself curious… Perhaps you just never put it to proper use. Before you mentioned it, he didn’t have any opinions on the matter, let alone knowing it was a matter to begin with. But the fact that you were basically telling him that you would feel so degraded, so violated if you were to actually call someone this… He wanted to know, he wanted to weaponize this somehow, jokingly of course… He thinks.

“It’s just… Like, that’s how you address your father as a young child… Ya know?” You turned your head in the crux of your pillow towards him. You both lay in a leisurely type of bare, simply winding down from the day. Dottore had long set his book down, charmed by this topic.

“Well, wouldn’t it just… I’m not sure, darling… Some people are just so desperate to feel small, but I couldn’t tell you why or when it began. Sounds morbidly incestuous, to a degree.” You scanned his defined profile as he looked at the ceiling in thought, more committed to this investigation than you expected.

“Right? Like, why not ‘master’ or even… I dunno, someone not related to you?” You were waiting for this very reaction from him, a smirk pushing his fine smile lines to be visible.

“You never seem to call me any of those things…” Somehow the smirk dressed itself as a pout before your eyes.

“I– You never asked…? I don’t want to just randomly address you as something that might make you feel… Uncomfortable.” You must’ve forgotten who you were speaking to, a man who never seems to falter, a seasoned masochist. Even still, you stood your ground… In truth, the prospect of calling him anything other than his name simply embarrassed you, but you tried to keep that close to your chest in secret.

“I suppose you’re right.” He chose to respect your reasoning, “What if I asked?”

“Then I guess… If that’s what you like, I would do it.” You spoke matter-of-factly. In addition to the inherent embarrassment, you honestly found it hard to want to call anyone, any of those names, as you don’t usually give in that easily. This was something that only added fuel to his enduring fire, your playful resistance, the process of melting away your pride and dignity… All for him.

“You don’t even use my official title anymore. It’s almost funny, you’re the only one I like hearing my given name from, though usually, it’s only in here that I hear it.”

“Because you asked, you buffoon. You asked me to call you that because you told me you liked it.” You couldn’t keep a hold of your laughter any longer.

“Did I?” He remembers the day he did so, but found too much enjoyment in teasing you as he stroked his chin in faux thought.

“Maybe you should call me ‘master’.” Your giggles were running circles around the room.

“Would you like that?” He turned his head to you, his eye contact haunting you briefly, “Unlike a certain darling, I wouldn’t feel embarrassed to honor your filthy little wishes.”

“I said I would!”

It was his turn to chuckle, his deep voice resounding gently above you like its own duvet, “But you’d be reluctant, as you just informed me. Unfortunately, I find it amusing when you’re out of your comfort zone because I can tell when you’re just being your shy, bratty, self. You’d tell me otherwise.”

“Then we can both be masters.” Your laughter caved like a burst dam, dying at the thought of how ridiculous that’d be.

His face was hysterical, lips pressed so hard they’d lost their color as he tried not to let his laughter free, “I don’t know how that’d work… I don’t think we’d get anything done. Would we both be on our knees or just in a stalemate of power stances?”

“Stop– Stop talking.” The laughter was making your stomach tickle, unable to stop as he continued the hypothetical.

He rolled on his side to face you completely, “If we’re both standing in the power stance, how would one bend the other over their knee? It’s a logistical failure, darling.” His hand snuck over to gather a tear from your reddened face as your giggles died down. Perhaps being a buffoon wasn’t so bad if he got to hear your true laughter emanate from your infectious smile.

“I’d say we fight for the title, but… You’ve told me in various ways how you prefer to be the loser in that situation.”

“Try it,” you suggested, “Just try calling me master once, I wanna know how it feels.” A delicate, mischievous smile still lounged on your face.

An opening unlike any other, he’d overpower you with what you thought would be your pedestal. The sounds of blankets shifting flooded your ears as he moved to straddle over you, his powder blue hair hanging in ornate waves around his face.

“Is this not cheating?” You placed your hands on his blazing chest above you, your eyes lingering on how his arms flexed to hold himself over you.

“Only if you tell me it is… Master.” He didn’t hesitate, his eyes a deep, sappy scarlet, “You make the rules.” He referred to you like this so languidly, so heavily as he awaited what you might do next.

“I suppose I’ll allow it… I don’t feel very masterly when you’ve got me caged like this.” You took a liberty only the one ‘in command’ would, experimentally pinching his raised nipples for a reaction.

His long lashes fluttered as if a moth were shaking off dew. God, he wished you’d never stop, but he didn’t want to say that just yet, “Wouldn’t a master simply… Take control?”

He bent his arms to allow for his upper body to lean into you, his lips, taut once more in his trademark smirk, nearing your left ear, “Or… are you already stepping down?”

He felt your right hand slide down his front, anticipating your touch to collide with his exposed length, unfortunately the only thing he couldn’t conceal. He was easily aroused by you, though he was discovering… Toying with you like this, almost a perfect balance of submission was making his body rage for you. His willingness to even think someone had the higher ground was only because of you, finding that… Maybe he didn’t mind being controlled by you. But what really riled him was the thought of that pretty word leaving your mouth, so exasperated, barely able to think about anything beyond him.

Your hand sunk slowly against his searing, rigid body, not surprised to find he was already hard, his cock pronounced as it hung over you. You’d debated on touching him or not, but something about taking him into your hand was addicting… Just stroking his length, pulling on him deliberately from shaft to tip, as if you had him caught on a leash of your touch.

His voice, no matter the words or sounds that he used it for, was the key to your demise, deep with an alluring timbre. Quickly your mind was reminded, that he is the Second Harbinger… People find this man to be deplorable and menacing, his voice is only heard making barbaric commands or bickering with other deplorable, menacing Harbingers. All for good, supported, reason. But here, on top of his usual stony tone, grew flowers through the cracks of his demeanor, pollinated as you stroked him. His lips were so close… His shameless, sodden groans fall right into your ear. He was effortlessly always in control, knowing how susceptible you are to him.

“Don’t you want to tell me what to do, Master?” You wanted to punch him as he whined this into you, though not without defiance, his tongue shocking the helix of your ear, a trail of ice left behind. He wouldn’t dare allow himself to miss how your breath lurched in your throat.

You responded with a harsh enough pull on his cock to only remove your hand altogether, “You’re too good at this…” Not that you could mind too much. You pushed his chest in a way to urge him off of you, to which he easily obliged as you both switched places. His length pressed against his lower stomach as you sat over him to grind your pooled wetness along the underside.

“How long do you want to play pretend, darling?” You felt his hips gyrate up into you ever so slightly, “You clearly cannot get out of your mind, too busy wishing I was taking over it.”

You thought for a moment, wondering how you could catch him off guard… How you could make him lose himself, even for just a second. Your uncertainty was making it difficult, “How about…” You hesitantly removed yourself from him to retrieve a toy from your bedside drawer, laughing inwardly, almost nervously at his impending reaction.

He wouldn’t mind what you brought, his intrigue piqued as you revealed your futile efforts to best him in his own game. Your choosing a dildo could mean a few things in this situation… Did you want to fuck him? Was he to watch as you fucked yourself? He waited with bated breath, already missing your heat against him.

You returned to your position, a buzz of pleasure shooting through both of you at the continued contact. He’d do anything at this point, just wanting to see how far you’d go so he could obliterate you equally and more afterward.

After briefly taking it into your mouth, you dragged the wet tip along the center of his front, all the way up to his chin, “Would you suck cock for your master?”

A foreign feeling, not unlike pleasure, barrelled through him as he saw the look he was waiting for in your eyes, “You’re asking me?” Chills trickled through his body, all the way up through his nose as a pleased sigh.

“Be good for me… All you have to do is open your mouth…” You strung him along, though he was too turned on to care, parting his lips to allow you to slowly push into his mouth. He could feel your legs tensing on either side of him, your clit throbbing against his cock as he did so… This was so good.

“I wanna see your eyes.” You weren’t so much dominating him but rather he willingly entertained you by playing along, this is what he told himself anyway. Looking into your soul as his lips clung to the rubber so sweetly, his dextrous tongue working with more enthusiasm than you expected… You didn’t think he’d look so pretty doing this.

Once his spit generously coated the dildo, you dragged it from his mouth, depriving his twitching length of your sopping pussy as you sat between his opened legs. Opening your own, wide enough that he could see the lustrous stage you’d set. You easily slid the dildo, gleaming with his saliva, into your beckoning cunt as he was made to watch.

Well played, he thought… You looked so beautiful as your cunt clung to the dildo that was just in his mouth, your contorted face making it evident that you simply wanted to be filled… Your pace was slow with purpose as you imagined him fucking you like this… He wanted so badly to be inside you, to hear your abashed, small, voice call him dirty things. You swore you saw his cock jolt with impatience. 

His right hand lunged unhurriedly towards his sex, but you swatted it away, “You’re only allowed to watch.”

His lovely voice shaped as a threatening laugh met your ears. Threatening as in he’d let your antics wrack up to be used against you at the right time. His eyes were forced to shade themselves as he looked down over his toned torso, watching you intently. The only way you would be able to dominate him would be by his own hand… or cock. You had so many opportunities to learn from his example, though your mind was probably checked out at that point.

His movements to resist your words ceased, watching as you increased the pace of your self-assault, glorious sounds of your wetness snapping into his ears. His lower lip tucked between his teeth, your left hand playing mindlessly at the soft skin of his upper thigh… He couldn’t help but feel the fault lines of his heart threaten to burst at the lovely sight before him. It felt like his gaze alone was propelling your hand, the tension was caustic and heavy.

You brought yourself to the edge of your release, movements shaky as you caged over him like he’d done to you before. You only had to bring the toy to his lips for him to gladly collect your sweet, his moans, deeper than the Chasm, almost infusing with it as he did. He loved how your eyes branded him as you watched… Maybe you were learning something after all… How to adeptly destroy him, one glance at a time.

Setting the dildo aside, at this point, you just wanted to kiss him. His lips were glossed with a brew of spit and cum, but that only made it more enticing. Like leaves brushing against each other in a gentle breeze, your lips found his. His whole body felt particularly sensitive, your nips at his lips almost a tickle as you teased him. That is, until he captured your face between his hands, lifting his head to press up into you. It felt like the kiss had been placed into a kiln, searing and intense as he was exposing how much he just needed to have you. His heart attached to yours like jumper cables, reinventing what yearning felt like as his tongue swam against yours, disregarding aesthetics and grace.

You both were only left more of a mess than before. As you parted, briefly a salty thread of combined spit, like a spider web, hung between your lips before snapping silently.

His hands pressed down along your curves as if shaping clay, pausing at your waist. Your arms were growing tired, and you couldn’t keep your mind off the gravitational pull of your throbbing cunt, knowing how his cock merely sat in wait. You wanted to lay on his chest… For some reason, his grin only grew.

“Was it worth it? Do you feel transformed, master?” He batted at you with his words like a cat playing with its prey, knowing it was his turn, whether you decided that or not.

“You did well, darling.” You commented in a voice that mocked his own, causing you both to laugh in unison for the second time. Your head dropped in a forfeit as he squeezed your sides.

“Making fun of me, now… I see.” He clicked his tongue, returning to the program that he would see through to the end, “Go stand by the stool in front of the mirror.” He ordered as his hands dropped in time with a sensation of excitement in your stomach, starting with his interpretation of this act.

You obeyed, the kinetic flow of wanting to please leading you to where he directed. You were made to observe your naked body, though distracted when he approached from behind and sat beside you on the stool, “I want you to lay over me, your pretty ass perked for me.”

He could see a familiar gleam in your eyes that sent him universal, knowing you were following his every word like footsteps in snow. Bridged over his legs, his right hand found your plump ass as if it were a magnet, caressing your supple skin. You knew what his intentions were, though, bracing for how and when he’d deliver his first blow.

“Do you truly think, darling… That you’d be able to overpower me without me letting you?”

Whatever your answer was, he wanted to feel the recoil regardless, “You’d just tell me your submission was ‘playing along’ even if I did.”

His hand lifted but a few inches to collide with your ass cheek, gathering your flesh in his hand like a duvet, “It’s against your nature...”

You reeled in how he assumed his harsh demeanor so effortlessly, “Do you think the other Harbingers know you’d clearly bow to my will under your guise of controlling the uncontrollable?”

This clap to your ass felt more personal, making you wince as a squeak snuck out of your throat, “I don’t give a single fuck about those insolent boors. I’d not admit your curiosity in them, though you know I’ll just hit you harder.” Your eyes locked on his own in the mirror as he had well already caught onto your antics.

“So it goes… Perhaps I do wonder about them.” You pushed the topic over the cliff, the punishment he��d give could only really be a reward.

He tried to not allow his heart to be swayed by your taunts, “You think they aren’t familiar with your pathetic moans coming from my office?”

“If they’re anything like you, that’d only intrigue them further, I would think…”

Smack.

This time you gave him a moan of rejoice, growing addicted to the sting, his hand falling over the crest of your ass to explore your cunt. Your wetness overflowed to coat your clit as it threatened to drip, loving his aggression.

“Hmm… I’ve barely grazed your desperate cunt until now, and it seems you’re trying to insinuate something foolish. Then tell me, my sweet, insatiable, darling, what or who is it that you want?” His middle and ring fingers pressed into your soaked, petal-like lips, coaxing you to answer. 

You were debating… Should you weaponize another man’s name to provoke him… It feels like foul play, as you really had eyes for no other madman but himself, he knows this well. But what if…

“You’re always hanging around that opulent-looking one with glasses… Pantalone, was it?” You chose to improvise listlessly with war anyway.

He gritted his teeth, eyes diverting away from you for the first time. He knew you were just trying to play the cards you had, God, he knew. But something inside could not prevent the inherent, possessive tendencies from making some kind of appearance. Of all the Harbingers, of course you’d choose Pantalone as your mode of combat. He’s such a duplicitous excuse of a man.

His two fingers plunged into your hole, he watched as the muscles in your back tensed, feeling your front wriggle over his legs, “I see how he looks at you, darling. He is so acquainted with wealth, he’s used to having everything available to him… He sees you with me and knows his ability to be conscious of his own existence will be compromised if he even thinks about touching you.”

His hand retracted to instead give your weeping clit a generous slap, the wetness enhancing the sound, then sinking back into you. His lithe fingers felt so dizzying as they paced against your spongy walls, how could you think of anything but that?

“Really, I brought it up because the thought of them seeing you like this turned me on, not because I want to fuck them.”

“Invariably, if they somehow saw me like this, you’d be the only logical cause… Look in the mirror, look at yourself.” His free hand slid under your face to push your cheek in the mirror’s direction, “Who are you bent over so pitifully for right now? It almost sounds as if you’d like an audience…” He noted where your eyes were as you followed his roaming hand at your backside, “Tell me.” He demanded, swatting your ass once more. He couldn’t chain back the grin on his face, waiting to see which title you’d attempt to christen him with.

You weren’t about to give in to what he wanted most, your pure humiliation…, so you opted to at least repay him equally, “You, Zandik… Master.”

“Really…” His fingers returned to your sopping cunt, more so as a reminder rather than a means of pleasure, “I think you know what I want to hear… I’ll give you another chance.”

Your face cringed slightly, though that wasn’t enough to disguise the way your hole clenched around his stilled fingers at the thought, “Fuck…”

He hunched down to ensure his words were clear, “You brought this up… It was eating away at your mind so badly that you thought it was safe to bring it up to me? It’s at the tip of your little tongue, darling… Your face is such a tender shade of red…” His hand pumped slowly into you, as if to lure it out of you with his feigned compassion, “Tell me, pretty baby, whose fingers are inside you right now.”

Your eyes looked to the supposed heavens for a moment, “I hate you.”

He scoffed sharply, “That sounds more in character… You’d be such a contemptuous little brat for me…” He gathered your hair haphazardly, pulling your head upwards, somehow amplifying his ministrations, “Go on, who’s got you bent at his will.” His tone was low though infected with his shit-eating grin.

“Fine– You… Daddy.” Your voice had almost entirely checked out. You knew he wouldn’t let you leave this position until you did so.

He laughed a riot right into your ear, though hissed like the snake he is afterward at the sheer pleasure of winning, maintaining his pace, “You look as if you could hurl, darling, but I don’t think I’ve felt your cute cunt clench around me quite so hard… You’re dripping down my fingers, I ought to make you clean this mess up.”

You whined as he increased his pace, egging you on, “That’s right… So fucking tight…”

In actuality, he didn’t care much for the pet name but rather just your adorable embarrassment, so he decided he wasn’t convinced, “Why not embrace it a little more…” Getting you close to the edge, retreating his hand only to prod at your lips, “Why not taste your humiliation, since you hate calling me ‘daddy’ so much? Hmm?”

You were shivering as the denied orgasm left you high, though not so much dry, taking his slender fingers into your mouth. Your tongue weaved between them so as to clean them completely, his eyes sharp, jabbing into your face as he watched. That feeling again, as if an hourglass had been flipped, all the blood rushed to his core as he fucked your mouth with his hand. When he was satisfied with your work, he slowly dragged his soaked fingers along your back to trace back down. You shook at the chilling trail it left.

“Hmm,” There was an arrogant triumph to his voiced sigh, “So sensitive, too… It drives me crazy, darling.” He moved to grip your waist, urging you off of him, “I wonder… Would you suck cock for your master?” His words wagged their fingers in your ears as he adjusted you to sit on your heels before him.

“And you say I talk shit?” You ran your hands flush up his parted thighs, observing how cute his folded tummy looked as he sat, watching you. His faint happy trail, the glazed plains of his pale chest in contrast to his florid, angular face. For a moment, he said not a word, realizing how desperately he required your touch, in any capacity. His cock leaned heavily to the side, as if in its last attempt of an exhausted taunt for your lips. Your hands closed in on him, his eyes fluttering as they gently pulled at his flushed length.

“I love it when you moan for me…” You mentioned as an aside before taking his swollen tip between your velveteen lips. His head fell back, and a groan, like a smoke ring, hovered to the ceiling.

His fingertips pushed their way through your hair, though with no other intent but seemingly to distract himself from losing himself too soon. He played with your hair almost domestically, petting you along as you took as much of his throbbing cock as you could. You could tell he so badly wanted to buck into your mouth, your hands gripping him at the pivot of his thighs and hips as he writhed… You wished he’d let you in on this kind of raw desperation more often, as this version of him played in your mind so sweetly.

“Such a good girl for me, fuck.” He’d never called you that before, but the sensation it conveyed in your brain felt as if your soul had fallen out of the window of your body. He had you where you couldn’t refute it, making you swallow that, too, without resistance, “I knew you’d like that…” He laughed wickedly despite his exasperated state, and it felt so good, “My good girl…” He almost sang it down to you the second time, making your chest waver, coasting your hands upwards against his tense torso. He untangled his hands from your hair, easily blanketing yours against his waist, effectively lulled by the lush of your touch.

His fingertips dragged down the stretch of your arms, over the horizon of your shoulders to round back to your face, causing you to pause in wait. Your eyes lazily gravitated up to his own, his face was tipped as he peered over his nose in his lecherous way, “Come here, darling, where you belong…”

Upon your standing, he twisted you around between his hands to face away from him, then pulled down at your hips to finally lower your pliant, sobbing cunt onto him. The friction of his firm chest against your back alone was tantalizing enough, his hot breath steaming your skin from behind making your body slack in his grasp. A hand left your side, gripping his length to align himself. The initial pleasure of his tip making contact with the magma that was your arousal against him was suffocating, your eyes heavy with refined lust, though you couldn’t tear them away. He lowered you onto his cock at a meticulous speed, so dreadfully slow, you swear you could feel his pulse. His groan of contagious desire shot through your spine as you watched him disappear inside you as he left you to sit completely full of him for his own amusement.

“Look at you, pretty darling, how you like to watch yourself take my cock so beautifully.” His wet lips played on your shoulder blade to leaf between his words, “How I wish this very image were branded into my mind…” Moving towards the crook of your neck, your head inadvertently swayed to the side to allow access, his hands forcing your hips to grind in his lap. His teeth brushed over the sensitive base of your neck, your shoulders raising as he teased your skin. You felt as if you were losing your grip on a certain aspect of consciousness, the way his thick length stirred inside you, brushing and shocking every nerve.

“Keep moving just like that…” He instructed in a whisper as his hands left to tend to your breasts, adding yet another layer of dizziness as he pinched and kneaded. He loved the way the soft skin of your ass brushed against his inner thighs, your cunt tied and bowed around his shaft so perfectly. He’d pause at your neck here and there to peek at your face, a delirious focus on maintaining your movements… Your precious sounds that now flowed shamelessly from your lips, he truly could never get enough of you.

You tried to lift yourself, needing to be properly rearranged from the inside out, but he halted your attempt, unraveling a whine, “I know, I know… My good girl has been working so hard…” His eyes fixated on how your slick literally overflowed, trickling down to his balls in a lewd stream. How you squeezed around him upon that name… It was too much for him to bear, “You really do like that, huh darling?”

“Mmhm…,” is all you could manage, your thighs twitching impatiently, an indescribable feeling winding up your body, “God, please just let me move.”

“I didn’t even have to ask you to beg, you sorry little thing.” He guided you to lift, your vision flickering at the sheer strength of the awaited friction, “Tell me more… How much do you want me to fucking destroy you?”

You gave in to his game, unable to resist, “So badly, Zandik, please.”

Finally, your hole just barely reached the precipice of his raging cock, holding you there, “I could make you cum just like this, giving you only what you barely need as you wished I’d fuck you right– Please what?”

“Fuck… Please, please fuck me, I need your cock… Please.” You squirmed as your voice was hoarse and almost unfamiliar to even yourself as you pleaded.

He slammed you down onto him easily, given how soaked you were, hardly able to wait himself, “When you’re this wet, I would think my cock is the only thing you need.” He talked both you and himself into oblivion, sticky slick between both his and your thighs accentuating the frantic collision of your bodies. His fingers were soldered to your waist, gripping you as he moved your body at his pace, watching as your breasts flailed rhythmically in his thrusts’ wake. He wished there was a way to consume the buttery noises you were making on top of him as his own bled into them.

You adored how his lips hung open, how his brows tensed upward as he exhibited both complete focus and abandonment, his mind devoted only to the way he fucked you in this moment. You found him infuriatingly handsome as it is, but to see him so breathless, his vast vocabulary reduced to exclusively vile taunts, he was utterly ethereal like this.

His lips curled up as you eyed him so intensely, forcing you off of him, the sudden vacancy in your cunt making you want to scream. He stood behind you, feeling up your front as he did so, “I can’t describe the feeling I get when you look at me like that, darling…” He turned you to face him, hastily stealing your lips for a kiss that dug into your chest like his nails did your back as he searched your skin hungrily. 

Upon stopping, he moved to hold your chin in place, your face displayed in his hand like a gemstone gleaming in the prongs of a ring. His swollen lips were still close, his crimson eyes had a glow to them, almost, cascading a dense shadow of need over your features, “However I may call you, you will most importantly, always, be mine. …And I hope… I will always be yours, darling.”

[jessamine-rose]

˚ʚ An Experiment in Procreation ɞ˚

Originally a deleted scene from Chemistry and Magnum Opus, now a standalone piece!! I hope you all enjoy this short headcanon for Yandere! Dottore :>

Tw:: yandere, babytrapping fem reader

“I want to know the full extent of your devotion to my research. Tell me, would you offer yourself up as the vessel for my child?”

Dottore definitely entertains the thought of babytrapping his darling.

It would be his most exciting experiment. Unlike his Segments, their child would be a natural creation by him and his darling. Its appearance is an uncontrollable variable, and who knows which of Dottore’s many Punnett Square combinations will prevail? After conception, the most he can do is to supervise his darling’s lifestyle, oversee the birth, and reduce any complications to the best of his limited ability—leaving the results to nature and the gods.

Their child would also serve as biological shackles for his darling. In her pregnant state, she’d be completely dependent on Dottore. The hormones would make her more emotional, vulnerable, perhaps even affectionate towards Dottore and what should be their perceived abomination. And how could she go against him, knowing that their child’s life is at its father’s mercy?

That being said, a scholar must consider all possible outcomes. And such likelihoods, no matter how small the probability, unsettle him. What will he do if the complications are beyond his intervention? What if his darling rejects their child or prefers it over him? Could he possibly raise his scalpel against someone who looks like his darling?

Not to mention that in the best-case scenario, they have to raise the child for the rest of their lives. With so many uncontrollable variables..…perhaps this experiment is better left as a dream, an unsolved hypothesis.

“That was merely a hypothetical question. Such an experiment would tamper with your physical and mental faculties, and I have already found my lifelong specimen in you.”