#dottore reader insert

[affableramen]

accidentally talking to them about THEM smau

pre-relationship, fluff, crack

[bloodblanks]

the cadence within [il dottore x reader] — prologue.

The quickest way to a man’s heart is through their fourth and fifth ribs.  But few men would allow you to just skewer them like that, and Dottore was no exception. So you took the classic route. No, it wasn’t through his stomach; it was through sheer force of charisma alone.  However, charisma is shaped like a double edged blade. Pantalone sent you to Dottore’s lab like a flying dagger, and not until it was too late did either of you realize you’d been lodged in his chest. 

co-written with noodsies, however, they’re shy and wish to stay anonymous! ♡

author's note: this fanfiction will contain mature content, including explicit sexual acts, violence, dottore himself, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

“Check,” you whispered.

Queen to C6 check, in response to white’s bishop checking on F3. Your D7 pawn guarded your queen, but your bishop was stuck in B8 while his king was vulnerable on A6. His only other piece was a knight on A4.

Did he blunder?

After placing down the chess piece, you glanced back towards him, your eyes searching his face for any readable signs or expressions. There were none, save for the hint of amusement that remained eternally etched into both his features and demeanour.

You mentally sighed. Dottore was as indecipherable as ever, leaving you confused about what to do with the nagging itch that tugged at your heart. You tried to push it aside, to dig a hole and bury the feeling six feet underground where it was never to resurface again, but you found yourself unable to. Instead, you found yourself caving into that emotion, the tension thickening the very air that now felt suffocating to breathe in, each of Dottore’s answers only leaving you with more questions to ask—none of which you should’ve paid any mind to, yet you still couldn't resist, barely holding yourself back from asking the one thing you really wanted to know.

You coughed softly, clearing your throat before speaking again.

“My turn,” you tried to steady your voice and sound as confident as possible, pushing past the dryness in your mouth. “Question nineteen, are you going to continue with your plan?”

It shouldn’t even matter. If you were being rational, you wouldn’t have bothered to ask that; whether or not he planned to continue should not affect your judgement in any way. He had done enough wrong as it is, committed far more crimes than could be excused or remotely justified.

Still, you couldn’t help but succumb to your own weakness, the question leaving your lips alongside a silent prayer that you hadn’t exposed your intentions—be it the one to put an end to him, or the far worse one, the one to give up on your original task. The task you should adhere to, despite your traitorous feelings wanting to get in the way. But you were not strong enough.

Dottore’s silence permitted you to keep ruminating over the same thoughts that had ceaselessly plagued you each time you faced him, the same thoughts that had insidiously grown in intensity throughout your interactions, leaving you to realize far too late that at some point, your actions towards him became genuine.

“Perhaps,” Dottore responded at last. You fought to keep your face neutral, trying your best to mask your disappointment at his answer. As much as you had wanted to, you were unable to deny that you had indeed wanted him to say ‘no.’

As shameful as it was, you pushed for a different answer.

“You’re supposed to answer yes or no,” you stated, keeping your tone light and indifferent.

How ludicrous, you thought. Your job was to pretend to be interested in him, yet here you were, desperately trying to act like you weren’t.

“Unfortunately, Y/N, I can’t do that,” Dottore replied. “The answer is dependent on certain variables.”

“Like what?”

“That’s not a yes or no question.” His face did not betray anything, yet you could hear the smirk in his voice, evident in the satisfaction he spoke with.

“But—”

“—My turn,” Dottore interrupted, and though you wanted to protest, you had to maintain an air of calmness, leaning back in your seat as you waited for him to speak.

“Question nineteen,” Dottore drew out each syllable with emphasis, “you are planning to kill me, aren’t you?”

His sentence caused you to freeze, a chill running down each ridge of your spine as you shivered, goosebumps breaking out over the surface of your skin, your hair standing on end as you stared at him, motionless, eyes wide.

That wasn’t a yes or no question. He knew. Dottore knew.

You didn’t need to see yourself to know that blood had drained from your face. There was no need for you to say anything; even if he hadn’t already known, your expression alone would be enough to confirm that everything he just said was true.

“Go on. Why don’t you answer me?” His voice was sharp enough to cut through the pounding of your heart, the pulsating of the organ reverberating in your eardrums being the only sound to muffle the deafening silence of the room.

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” Dottore continued. Though the syllables reached you, your mind struggled to process the meaning behind them. “Did you think I wouldn’t know?”

Dottore scoffed, indignant.

“I find it rather insulting that you think so lowly of me.”

“N-no,” you scrambled to find the right words. “I don’t—”

“—Is that so?” he said, cutting you off while clicking his tongue in mock disapproval. “Do you have a more plausible explanation for that gun strapped to your thigh, then?”

Your heart sank, his words the anchor that plunged it into the bottomless pit in your stomach. It felt like the life was drained from your body, rendering it an immobile marionette whose strings dangled from the tips of Dottore’s slender fingers. As if his words were coated in a paralyzing agent, you couldn’t bring yourself to speak further or move an inch. The only reminder that you were still alive was the harrowing thump of your pulse, each beat accelerating faster than the last.

How did he know?

For a split second you wondered if you’d been betrayed, but that was impossible. You had premeditated the perfect plan, meticulously memorized every step, and followed through with flawless execution.

With clandestine sleight, you acquired the perfect trump card—a gun loaded with bullets meant to destroy both visions and delusions. It was exactly what you needed to put an end to him, to put an end to this madness and absurdity. You’d be done with this once and for all. You’d have your old life back; exactly as it was before.

So how?

And what was more pressing than how, was the question of just what Dottore was planning to do with this knowledge. The urgency that question posed was unmatched by anything else, the answer pertaining to whether you would live or die.

You couldn’t help but wince, unable to conceal your expressions any longer. Dottore had seen through it all, seen through all your plans. You were dead, and you could only hope that your death would not be as unpleasant as some of the others by his hand. You knew what he was capable of, and you knew he was capable of far worse.

“I didn’t think so.” Dottore’s words were firm. Unwavering. And in those very seconds you were forced to accept the reality that you were going to die. This was the end.

“Go ahead,” Dottore said, slowly holding out his hands with both palms facing you. “Shoot me.”

What?

“I won’t stop you,” he finished his sentence. You were still gaping at him, but he was gazing back straight into your eyes, unflinching.

“Is this a joke?” you breathed, unable to comprehend what was just said to you.

“Is that your final question?” Dottore returned, his words somehow snapping you out of your daze and paralysis for a split second. You instinctively reacted by reaching to your thigh, pulling out the gun that you had prepared for this very moment and aiming it directly at him.

You tried to still the tremble of your hands as your index finger hooked onto the trigger, tensing it frozen so it wouldn’t pull.

A moment went by.

“Is that all?” Maybe you were imagining things. You had to be, but you couldn’t help but feel his eyes scan your face, searching for something.

Just what was he looking for? Could it be the same thing you sought?

“Allow me my final question, then.”

You couldn’t help but anticipate, that minuscule flame of hope, that lingering spark that refused to be snuffed out, flaring back to life.

“Sure.” Your voice was low, but you knew that he had heard you, nonetheless.

“Question...” Each second felt like it had been split up into millions, leaving you to experience time a microsecond at once. You were breathing heavily, your blood pulsating in your ears and adrenaline rushing through your veins. “...Twenty.”

“There is something stopping you, isn’t there?” 

next chapter -> any interactions are appreciated (´･ω･`) thank you very much for supporting my work! ♡

[explicitred]

How they would react to your gifts...

Genshin Impact x Reader Christmas Advent Calendar, Day 3!

They immediately gasp as their eyes lay on your nicely wrapped present. Their hands gently shake as they delicately hold your gift, treating it as if it was a fragile object. Ever since giving them the present, you see them smile every single time they look at the gift, going so far as to glance every so often whenever they get the chance.

Kazuha, Gorou, Neuvillette, Zhongli, Itto, Kaveh

They're the type to brag to EVERYONE that YOU gave them a GIFT. Aren't they so lucky?! To be gifted something by you of all people! Oh lord have mercy... They think they're going to faint from being too lovesick with you.

Childe, Ayato, Cyno, Heizou, Itto, Kaveh

...You're giving them a gift? Thanks. It's mine. It isn't going to ever see the day of light again. Everyone else's eyes are too vile and disgusting to even glance at it. Only you and themselves can look at the beloved, beautiful gift that YOU gave them. ...They may be a bit too obsessed with you. Possessive much?

Scaramouche/Wanderer, Dottore, Arlecchino

[em0zombie]

NSFW Genshin twitter links ! PT2

  `🐈‍⬛` . ִ ֗  MDNI ! - Character mentions: Dottore, Childe, Albedo, Tighnari, Lyney

Childe

- Lil rough, stressed Childe

- Backseat of the car fun

- JERKIN AWFFFF

Dottore

- Spanking

- Long day after work

- Messy eating amen

Albedo

- Lazy riding

- Using ur thighs !

- Fastbedo

Tighnari

- Breeding…

- Rough on ya’

- Outside fun

Lyney

- Face riding

- Magic hands !

- Lyney being needy

PT 2 with the women coming soon (mainly fem reader w them though…!)

[fatuismooches]

Silly thought: What if the Traveller accidentally kidnaps Dottore's lover?

This will happen way before they meet them. The Traveller somehow, is able to sneak into the main lab of the Doctor and finds his test-subjects. Of course being the hero that they are, releases them and offers them refuge in the Teapot (I'm still pissed that the Teapot is hardly mentioned in main story quests it could be a Trojan horse but nooo)

They come across this 'test-subject' who has heavy security for some reason. Determined to not leave anyone behind, they break through the defences to get to the hapless 'civilian.'

The Traveller gets there and takes away the 'test-subject', the Traveller hopes that they wake up once they are in the Teapot.

[Dottore's spouse wakes up from their refreshing nap and finds themself in a completely different place with a lot of strangers. Why are Dottore's test-subjects out? Actually - where even are they?!

And Dottore returns to an empty lab 😋 rip to the Traveller. Dottore is going to rip Teyvat from the ground up and he wouldn't find his spouse until the Traveller makes the connection.]

The Traveler thought that they had prepared to the fullest, heading into Dottore's lab. Carefully scoping it out, even managing to get their hands on the mapped layout somehow, observing the patterns and schedules of the guards and agents who seemed to be placed everywhere... general sneaky stuff, that wasn't nearly as easy as it sounded as this had to do with the Doctor after all. Nothing was ever simple when it came to the Harbinger, but despite all odds, they got lucky, only because the segments were no more and they chose a day Dottore himself was not there (that was also painstakingly planned). Of course, once the Traveler successfully completed their mission and freed all those poor souls, they felt rather good about themselves. Any plan of the Doctor's thwarted was always a good thing.

When the Traveler comes across such someone so highly tucked away, they automatically assume the worst! You must be an invaluable test subject who provides him great research but through immeasurable pain (just look how tired you were)... one that he can't keep his eye off! What a terrible fate you've been subjected to, one at the hands of the mad Doctor! Worry not, the Traveler will save you (not)!

...However, the blond failed to obtain information on a very, very important factor - the little-known soft spot of Dottore.

Now poor you, expecting to wake up to a familiar ceiling and maybe even your husband's embrace, but instead the sky above is more blinding than anything you've witnessed in years. And there's a strange bird floating spirit thing. AND the infamous Traveler and Paimon are worrying over your well-being... even more so when you start getting overwhelmed knowing you're far, far away from Dottore.

Now of course, test subjects are just test subjects and although losing them was a waste, he could always procure some more. You, however, was a completely different story. Needless to say, the agents are quite scared to go near the Harbinger as they've rarely seen him in his state - absolutely silently seething. The only way to salvage the situation is that the Traveler just needs to hope a hair hasn't been touched on your pretty head.

(Cue the freak out between Paimon and them once they realize the truth. Even still, the Traveler is semi-convinced you might be brainwashed or something - the whole Akasha terminal thing in Sumeru was enough proof. They're a bit reluctant to hand you over but seeing the way you bolt toward the Doctor was enough to convince them...)

[cookieandpumpkins]

Before and After 1 The evolution of Zandik

[emiixuu]

gratitude to dedicated

a continuation to ‘blossoming devotion’ in ‘the cat puppet and bunny doll’ series

💌 pairing :: harbinger!scaramouche x doll!reader

🌌 content warning :: unhealthy & developing relationship and characters

📝 synopsis :: and I shall have all of you, and you shall hide the pieces.

✒️ word count :: 4,084

🐰 author’s note :: after the events of blossoming devotion, before the events of puppet’s beloved

Like birds chirping, it seemed like the Fatui members probably have done all their duties with now not much to do except for their idle chit-chat. Gossips and rumours, they were almost scaring one another with their stories of what happened to the latest Fatui recruit.

An unknown addition working under the Sixth. Some say The Balladeer has sunk their teeth right into them and sucked them dry after they were an utter failure on the last mission. Others that he has quite literally cooked and ate them, forcing the others to eat with him, too.

It was you. As far as you were aware, you were alive and well. You were not eaten, you were not sucked dry.

The story has been twisted too many times to the point it was nothing but a spooky tale now. Another way to make the Sixth Harbinger even more frightening to the eyes of Fatui.

Silly rumours, you weren’t sure how they exactly came to exist. On the last mission, you were injured in the stomach by an arrow while trying to protect him. When you really try to think about it, he did, technically, taste you after you started to bleed. You didn’t find it scary, nor abnormal.

Thirst is common to humans so why did it terrify them so much to the point of creating these stories?

Kunikuzushi was, indeed, just thirsty. And you were, oh, so available to him at that moment.

Thirsty for whatever it is he was in need of.

“Am I not allowed to join you on your missions anymore?” You ask simply, looking up at him as you sit in your destined place in the corner of the room, on the floor. Beneath your knees, a kind gesture from him laid, a comfortable pillow.

There have been occurrences he has shown you kindness. Those moments were fleeting but appreciated nonetheless. You will take anything you could get.

“You will be better off here.” He spoke firmly, looking down upon you as he hovered above you. His arms crossed, watching you as if he was contemplating on what to do with you. As if you were an unneeded leftover he had to deal with.

Frankly, you were unfit. He voiced that to Dottore, too. Unfortunately, he was also good for nothing. Kunikuzushi has asked him to make you more resilient, to which he just shrugged and talked about how that would be a waste of material and time. Tsk, he wasted all that time before to create you but no longer cares to make you better? What were his plans anyways? Kunikuzushi didn’t want to dwell on that, he’d rather not get into trying to understand what was going on in Dottore’s head.

“Why? I won’t jump into danger again if you are worried about that.” You try to reason with him, not wanting him to leave you behind. It would be far too lonely and boring to stay here on your own. Staying away from him for too long would not do any good for you.

“And if you do? Do you think I want to visit Dottore everyday?” He shakes his head in disapproval, clearly he wouldn’t let himself get persuaded by you. You could plead and beg, but you will be staying right here.

“What am I supposed to do?” You ask. At this point maybe he should just ‘turn you off’ when he is away.

“I don’t know? Find something to do here?” He sighs, a little annoyed at having to deal with you, “just don’t get into trouble.”

You wouldn’t get into trouble. How could you do that, stuck between four walls? You couldn’t even think of any ways to cause problems. Flood his room? There was no water in here as far as you knew.

He left simply without saying anything else, leaving you all alone, not even sparing you another look.

Silence. The room was eerily dead except for the sound of the clock ticking. Ticking and ticking, minutes turning into hours, restless, you couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. Not to mention, all you had in mind was Kunikuzushi and he wasn’t even here to delight your thoughts.

Standing up from the position of your comfy pillow, you hesitantly walked around the room as if worried you might damage the floor beneath you if you weren’t careful enough with your steps. You stood still before the table, your electrogun, staring at it as it were staring back at you.

The urge to grab it and leave the room, following right behind him was almost unbearable. Leaving you here? How boring. You wanted to be of help to him. What if he’ll just throw you out after realizing you were no use for him? Having to prove yourself worthy of him, you couldn’t stay here. He needed you, too.

Because, who will protect him if not you? He might have told you he doesn’t need protection, but that fell flat on your ears. Your determination was much stronger than that.

You take the electrogun Kunikuzushi has given you in your hands and before anything could stop you, you walk right out the door of his room.

The hall behind the door, you have just gone through, was a long one. Empty yet fancy place. One could get lost here. You look from one side to the other, which way? You remember walking in both directions while you were following Kunikuzushi around before. But you couldn’t possibly know which way he would have gone this time. You didn’t even know what he was up to today.

Suddenly, a certain voice startled you, making you react quickly by aiming the electrogun on whoever it was.

“Ah? What do we have here? Scaramouche didn’t take you with him?” Dottore hums in thought, observing you as you clutched the gun in your hands, pointing it right at him. Your hands were trembling. You didn’t even notice him, where did he come from?

“What are your plans? Going around the Zapolyarny Palace and attacking everyone in your way?” He tuts at you, calmly pushing your gun away with his finger, “I don’t remember programming you to attack Fatui.”

“I’m sorry, you startled me, Father.” You lower your electrogun. What were you thinking? There was no threat inside the palace. You shouldn’t be so jumpy. Kunikuzushi wouldn’t be happy with you accidentally harming anyone from the organization while he was away. That would just cause issues for him.

“Did he leave you behind?” He smiles wryly at you and you nod to his question, “of course, you poor thing, he thinks you are not worth his time.”

He cooed sadly, as if you were a wounded little bird, unable to fly. Sudden wave of anxiety flows through you, his words alarming. Not worth his time?

“B- But I, he told me to wait for him.” You retort weakly. Dottore only laughs at your increasing worry, he knew he hit the bull’s-eye.

“Wait for you? And what is it that you are doing now?” He tilts his head at you, studying you. Evidently, you were doing the opposite of what you have been told to. You were aware Kunikuzushi might be displeased if you showed up in front of him, but you were doing it for him. Dottore just shook his head at you in pity.

“Come on, my child. Let’s repair that, hm?” He holds out his hand for you, luring you sweetly.

You raise your hand, hesitating for a moment. Would Kunikuzushi get mad? You were aware that he didn’t seem to like Dottore much. Still, there was no reason to not listen to your creator.

Kunikuzushi would understand. So you took Dottore’s hand.

Whatever The Doctor does to you will stay between the two of you. You won’t tell, not like you could. You won’t go to Kunikuzushi telling him about how you so eagerly wanted to go after him but were stopped by Dottore. Neither will he tell him he has borrowed his possession. It was just for a minute or two, he won’t notice and you won’t know the next time you are back in Kunikuzushi’s room either.

Essentially, nothing happened.

Sitting up abruptly, Kunikuzushi awoke. The room was dark with only the moon giving it a light, his vision slightly blurry as he started to come back to reality. He touches his cheek, feeling a wetness on them. Tears? He cried in his sleep again it seemed.

It was just a nightmare. Just a nightmare that was gnawing at him once more. He was in his bed, in his chamber. He was fine, everything was fine. He shouldn’t let it get to him. It comes and goes.

Sighing, he looks to the side and almost falls off right from the bed. Your face right next to his, your eyes watching him, a curious look on your face. It might have been a mistake to move you from the floor to bed.

“Were you still not taught about personal space?” Kunikuzushi grumbles. He seemed a bit softer than his usual irritated self as he just woke up.

You were far too close, observing him as if he was an unknown specimen to you.

“Are those tears?” You ask, your hand reaching for his face. Before you could get your hand on him, he slapped it away, not amused by your nosiness.

“Probably.” He deadpans.

What kind of answer was that? Now he wanted to slap himself instead, cringing at his own words, it must have been the grogginess. He didn’t want you to see that, it was nothing important. Crying in his sleep was no more than an ordinary occasional occurrence that meant nothing. Just a bad dream that will soon be forgotten.

“It’s nothing.” He says, rather quietly, his eyes no longer paying you any attention. Such behaviour from him was uncharacteristic. It seemed almost vulnerable, the small cracks glowing through his sharp exterior.

His expression made your heart ache, hollow yet with a hint of hidden sorrow.

Looking away won’t save him from you as you move on the bed to be right in front of him. Slowly, you raised your hand to his face again. Touch – gentle – like carefully holding a fine porcelain. Yet, touching him would be far more poisonous than the chance of him shattering under your tender fingertips.

You cup his face in your hands, surprisingly, he does not move away, nor did he smile or react in any way. He just stared at you, utterly unfeeling to one’s eyes. His face wanted to hide so much from the whole world, to bury himself entirely. You peeked behind that facade with dedicated solicitude. It was a once in a lifetime moment. Perhaps, it was the quietness of the room, coating the both of you in an engrossed bubble of each other. The moon gazing at the two of you, the only witness to your sin.

“Even Gods have the ability to shed tears.” You murmur, kissing his cheek as you sit in between his legs, feeding him with the promise of divinity, your words wrapping around him like silk.

You still didn’t understand what personal space meant, he assumed. Otherwise, why would you still be this close despite his warnings? But he couldn’t be cruel to the one who held him on pedestal.

“Weren’t you just made to be my glory, hm?” He quips, a light chuckle escaping past his lips but it does not reach his eyes.

Kunikuzushi ignores the itch to push you down and smother you with his desire. To sink his teeth into you, taste what you have been granting him with, closely and completely. Instead, all he does is slips past your hands and rests his face into the crook of your neck, warm and mellow place. He gives into this short tranquility with you. It felt right. There was no threat, he could lose himself in you. You were worthy. You were his. His rise. What good would it have done him to bleed you dry all at once?

Darkness enveloped you as the fine silk covered your eyes. One hand of his around your waist, the other holding your hand gently, leading you somewhere. Blindfolded and without any idea of what awaits you. Kunikuzushi said he wants to surprise you. You count your steps and the number is not so high, wherever he is taking you is not so far.

“Here we are,” he mutters quietly, almost as if he didn’t want to disturb the dark ambience with his voice, “careful.”

He slowly sits you down, the chair beneath you cushioned and comfortable. He doesn’t take off the silk on your eyes yet as he moves away from you. A quick sound of fire flaring, you flinch a little. Your small frightened reaction forced a hushed chuckle out of him.

“Do you not trust me?” He asks, his voice heightened to your senses, you couldn’t see but from the sound of his voice he was definitely smirking.

“Nothing to do with trust. You are free to do whatever you’d like with me at the end of the day and I shall trust your judgement.” You mumble into the darkness. You were just startled by the loud noise of a fire, that was all. You weren’t scared of him.

“Am I? Hm, so should I burn you?” He questions, you could feel sudden warmness in front of you. The fire he ignited, right in front of your face. His early amusement eerily fading away.

You didn’t dare move away from it, you stood still. No words came out of your mouth.

“Are you not afraid to turn into dust? The doctor might not be able to fix you again.” He taunts you.

“I will accept death if it’s chosen upon me by you.” You reply, but there is a hint of shakiness in your voice betraying you. A hint of fear. Of course. Even a puppet fears the everlasting darkness, to turn into nothing.

“Heh, it’s fine. You don’t have to act brave. Are you trying to impress me?” He cackles, moving the fire away from you again. He was only messing with you, playing with your mind.

He steps close to you again, carefully untying the silk as he lets you see again. You open your eyes, starting to slowly focus on what is in front of you. You found yourself in a room surrounded by a new darkness with a single candle lit on the table. A cake that seemed meticulously prepared to perfection on the rather expensive-looking plate.

You eye him, the utter confusion on your face tugs a self-satisfied smile on his, “I believe I have not given you any food to try yet.”

His words surprised you, did he really want to give you food? You did not need to eat, nor anything else of the human needs. This was not a necessity, but a pleasure. From the concealed benevolence of his, he has decided to give you a taste. A gratitude for your sweet worship. A pleasure for pleasure.

“T-There is no need, my Lord-” you shook your head, taken aback by his action. It would be a waste of cake if you ate it.

“No. This is a present from me. I’m not giving you permission to refuse,” he quickly interrupts you with a frown, seemingly not happy with your bashfulness, “and did I not tell you to call me Kunikuzushi?”

You reluctantly nodded, looking back at the dessert on the table.

“Strawberry cake,” he adds almost gently, trying to teach you something ‘new’, “that’s a fruit.”

You were not stupid. You knew what strawberries were. It seems he is underestimating your intelligence. It was not surprising he would do that. He looked down upon most people. Still, he should be aware by now that you did have a basic knowledge of the world. You nod to his explanation, “I know what strawberries are.”

“Don’t give me an attitude.” He chides you, the tone of his voice turning dangerous.

You look at him once more, panicking a little, “I didn’t!”

For a moment, he just stares at you as if what you have spoken has insulted him greatly. He was already quite lenient with you than he was with anyone else. He was even kind to you, in his own way. Gave you food, tried to provide you with an insight to the human world and all he gets is you muttering that you know? Maybe he should just throw the cake away.

Instead, he just bursts into humourless laughter after what seemed like an hour-long staring contest, sneering at you mockingly, “you should see your face.”

He was a bit hard to figure out. A ticking bomb that threatened to explode at any time, yet it didn’t. You were glad it didn’t. You admired him but that didn’t mean you weren’t a little scared of him at times. Gods are powerful, aren’t they? It was normal to fear a God.

He took the tiny fork in his hand, pointing at it, “a fork used for desserts.”

Now that was on purpose, you were sure as his lips curled up into a sly smile, his eyes glinting with sardonic mischief. He didn’t put the fork in your hands, instead he sunk it into the cake, slowly taking a piece of it.

“Open up.” He spoke in a gentle manner, coaxing you into opening your mouth for him, “you’re special so I will feed you myself.”

The word ‘special’ coating on his tongue, sticking, honeyed. You open your mouth for him, letting him place the piece of strawberry cake in there. You let the flavour melt in your mouth for a few seconds before starting to chew it, the fruity jam harmonizing with the fluffy cake on your tongue, releasing a newly found satisfaction in you. Sweet, light yet rich, and inviting as if made with the most tender love in one’s mind.

“It’s good.” You spoke with your mouth filled with it. He clicked his tongue at you, but no scolding words came out of him for talking with your mouth full, the look on his face still somewhat endearing. As soon as you swallowed, another piece came right into your mouth, not giving you a space to talk, resulting in a strained whine from you.

His smirk widened, shushing you. His free finger moved to the corner of your lips, wiping off a bit of cream on it right back into your mouth, “messy and clumsy.”

After you were done with this piece, you quickly tried to talk again, “don’t you want a taste too?”

“No, thanks. I am not a fan of these sweet things.” He mumbles, while again pressing the fork in front of your lips.

You were slightly surprised he gave you something he didn’t like. If he dislikes cakes, why prepare one for you? Of course, you still appreciated what he did for you. You were sure it came out of a place of care.

“Then what-” as soon as you opened your mouth again to talk, he shoved more into you. You frown lightly to which he just smiles in faux-innocence as if he wasn’t aware you wanted to talk. He didn’t care about your growing frustration and you didn’t try to show it more than the small frown on your face. You wouldn’t throw a fit with him.

“Then what do you like?” You manage to ask before he feeds you.

“Tea.” A simple reply comes out of his lips, not interested in having conversation with you at the moment.

He was simply enjoying feeding you the cake he himself prepared, made with only the greatest ingredients. He knew how to bake, and he was definitely not bad at it. It was not something he has done a lot. There was no reason for it, he didn’t enjoy the things he baked, and who would he bake for?

The Sixth Harbinger baking? As if he would let anyone from Fatui see him like that. He didn’t mind you seeing him like that. Definitely not, you were much different from those insects.

The last bite of the cake was presented before you, ready to eat it, you opened your mouth once more for him, expecting the taste of the velvety cake soon to meet you one last time. But there was nothing. The last bite of cake went right into his mouth. A hint of disappointment played on your face as you were looking forward to savouring the cake for the last time. Pouting at him, it was like taking candy from a child. Easy and slightly mean. But you would not complain, you wouldn’t talk back to him, would you? Smirking at you as he was chewing the cake, he seemed pleased with himself.

Without any warning, he leans his face into yours to the point of lips meeting, his hand on your face making sure you wouldn’t withdraw from him. Gently, he bites onto your lower lip to make you part your lips. And you did. He wasted no time, his tongue pushing the contents into your mouth, all of it, back where it was supposed to go in the first place, unintendedly caressing and intertwining with your tongue in an almost sensual manner. But he didn’t stay in your comfort any longer than he was supposed to, not even to explore you a little. He held back his selfishness. As he was rid of all the pastry, he moved back from you. You let the taste melt and savour it on your tongue a little longer, before swallowing it with ease. Kunikuzushi has made it seem like nothing, he simply mouth-fed you.

Bewilderment was not enough to describe the level of confusion he has given you. Did he really find this much amusement in messing with you? You could not predict his behaviour, it may be that you just need to study him a lot more. The Doctor didn’t give you a manual to understand the Sixth.

“I didn’t want to damage your teeth too much. It was your first time eating and the last bite was not so soft.” He says but it seemed more like he just made that up to feed your gullible mind, “plus you are right. I should have tried it first before feeding it to you. My mistake.”

“In any way, you should be honored you got it right from me.” He shrugs, putting the fork away on the finished plate. You were honored, perhaps his own saliva made the cake even better, that he would be as kind as to not only spoon-feed you but also directly feed you from his own mouth to yours. How thoughtful from the man you see as your God.

He did like playing with his food though. So it was no different.

“Thank you.” You say softly. He brings tissue to your lips, making sure you are all clean and proper, simply discarding it on the plate when he is done.

He steps away to the different room and in a few minutes or so he comes back, holding a tea set. He puts it onto the table, the flame of the candle still dancing, wax dripping. Taking the teapot in his hands, he pours the tea for you and himself, too.

“One cup of tea for you.” He hands you the cup and you take it into your hands, warming them.

The taste was bitter. Leaving a sharp, unapologetic edge across your tastebuds, no sweetness whatsoever. It was much different from the cake you had. So this is what he likes. He seems to be looking at you the whole time as you tasted the tea, his eyes not moving from you, not even to sip his own drink.

“How do you like it?” He questions, getting a little impatient as he waits for your opinion.

“It’s.. interesting.” You reply, intrigued by the flavour, your words careful as you drink more. The bitterness was addictive, each sip sending an intense wave through you. It was fitting for him, you were not surprised he liked tea. Addictive, intense, unapologetically sharp.

He smiles, more to himself than at you, content with the fact you were enjoying the tea.

“Want more?”

It would be Kunikuzushi’s pleasure to bestow upon you more of him.

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 12: Harbingers x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 7456

Warnings: Afab!reader, Traveler!reader, noncon, orgy, bondage, sensory deprivation, vaginal fingering, piv, squirting, brief pelvic exam, whatever is going on between Childe and the reader

A/N: I decided to keep this one to just the Harbingers I was familiar enough with so Scaramouche, Childe, Arlecchino, Dottore, Pantalone and Capitano are featured. Six people definitely make for an orgy, right? Right. But a fair warning for the Capitano fans , after taking what I currently know of him into account he ended up largely being a bystander for most of this until the end so I just wanted to be clear on that expectation going into this. I still haven't gotten around to the 5.1 Archon Quest yet 🙈

⭐

The Balladeer is not gentle about the way he steers you down the chilly hall, his grip on your upper arm pinching and tight even through the heavy coat he’d thrown over you to ensure you didn’t succumb to frostbite. You were grateful for that small act of kindness from him since it was the only thing you’d been left with other than your boots, but you were still freezing underneath all that excess of fabric and fur. Hardly any surprise there. Snezhnaya was even more frigid and inhospitable than you’d expected it to be. 

As to why he’d stripped you bare, you had no idea. After capturing you inside the old, decrepit Inazuman mansion where the Fatui were operating their Delusion factory out of, he’d kept such a close eye on you that you never would have had the chance to retaliate or escape even if you’d wanted to try. And you did. More than anything else, you wanted to flee from him and return back to the island nation so you could search for Paimon. She was the second person you’d been forcibly separated from in Teyvat and that knowledge stings more than you would have expected it to. You just hoped she was alright, wherever she was. 

But as soon as you’d reached the Snezhnayan border, Scaramouche had taken the time to relieve you of all your clothes before replacing them with the heavy cloak you were currently bundled in. Initially you’d assumed he was going to do something truly heinous and disgusting to you but, to your ever growing uncertainty, he’d left you alone after that. You were inclined to think it was just some sort of foul humiliation tactic meant to further solidify your position as a captive and discourage any thoughts you might still harbor about escaping. It was clear that the coat wouldn’t save you indefinitely out in this harsh environment. 

Now you’re not so sure though. He’d relentlessly dragged you all the way here from Inazuma, hardly even stopping long enough to let you rest or eat along the way, and had barely spoken more than five words to you over the long journey. And he was clearly proud of himself for capturing you. That was easy enough to see at just a glance, yet he hadn’t gloated about it or dangled it over your head. It seemed more likely that he had an objective in bringing you here like this, in such a vulnerable state of helpless undress, and you were understandably nervous of what awaited you in this magnificent yet eerily cold and silent palace. 

“Relax.” He snaps at you when you start to drag your feet, roughly yanking on your arm to keep you in line. “We’re almost there.” 

Stumbling alongside him, you have no choice but to comply. You were regretfully powerless to do anything about it when your wrists were tied behind your back with a thick knot of unbudging rope and you can’t even complain about it either. Effectively gagged to silence with the uncomfortable bit of bamboo he’d wedged in your mouth, all you can do is impotently hiss around it as he pulls you along. 

Finally you reach the end of the corridor where he leads you straight up to the imposing set of massive, intricately carved double doors that loom up out of the dreary darkness at you. They almost look like something a giant would have used rather than any mortal person and you anxiously wrench back on his hold in an attempt to stop him from taking you any further. Somehow you got the sense you weren’t going to like what awaited you on the other side. 

It doesn’t work though, of course, and Scaramouche easily keeps his bruising grip on your arm as he reaches for the smaller, more human looking door built into the impressive structure. The hinges give a vaguely ominous creak when it swings open to grant the two of you entry but he doesn’t even give you a chance to fight it before you’re tripping through the entryway under his guidance. 

You immediately understand that your intuition was correct and you were right to fear what was inside as soon as your eyes land on the long, ceremonious table situated within, and Childe promptly shoots up out of his seat at your sudden appearance. 

“Traveler?” 

Noising a wordless exclamation at him, you swing your attention around at the rest of the room's occupants. You didn’t know any of the other Harbingers by their looks alone but you could probably guess at some of their identities based on the brief descriptions the Eleventh had given you back in Liyue. 

The one with the beaked mask was probably The Doctor and based on the chilly, disinterested look she sends you you’d wager the woman was probably The Knave. You’re not sure about the bespectacled man with dark hair or the toweringly large one with his face covered, but it was probably safe to say that they were just as dangerous as Childe had said they all were. 

Your skin nervously prickles as you break out in an ice cold sweat, jerking your attention back and forth over the assembled faces. Where was Signora? 

“You really did it,” The beak masked one marvels, sounding really quite pleased by this development. “And the gnosis?” 

“Our Fair Lady is taking care of it.” Scaramouche says, making you snap your head around to look at him in surprise. Glancing over at you at the sudden movement, he studies your face for a short beat before he allows his mouth to curl in a mean, haughty little smirk. “Oh, did you not realize she was in Inazuma too? After already running into her twice before you really should have expected as much, right?” 

You squawk at him through the gag but there’s too much happening in the room all at once as people start to stand up from their seats for him to pay it any mind. 

Swinging his attention back around, Scaramouche looks down the length of his nose at his fellow Harbinger’s like a powerful king might regard his lesser peons. That manages to impress you somewhat, given his ranking as only the Sixth. “Where are the Tsaritsa and the others? I’ve brought back a souvenir for us all to share.” 

“Her Majesty is not in the mood to see anyone today.” The imposingly tall man in the mask says, unfolding himself from his chair to rise. Your eyes widen slightly when you realize how much bigger he actually is than the rest of them, but then you register that Childe is coming towards you and he manages to successfully distract your attention from the others. 

“What happened to you?” He murmurs as both of his gloved hands reach out to cradle your cheeks between the gloved palms. You’re almost floored by how tenderly he tips your face up at him, looking you over with those depthless blue eyes, but all you can respond with is a weak little mewl through the gag. 

It was making your jaw hurt something fierce, unseemly drool threatening to escape from the corners of your stuffed lips. You prayed he at least would be kind enough to take it out of your mouth for you but he doesn’t get the chance. 

Aggressively yanking on your arm, Scaramouche pulls you away from Childe so hard you nearly stumble right into him but you manage to catch your balance just in time to watch the taller ginger round on him with a snarl. Surely they weren’t going to come to blows fighting over you … right? 

“What do you think you’re doing? Explain yourself, Balladeer. Now.” 

“Please. Spare me your weak sentimentality, Tartaglia. It’s enough to make me wretch. The Traveler is my prisoner and I get to decide what happens to her, at least until the Tsaritsa issues her final verdict for her crimes. But until then, I call the shots. Not you.” 

“Bastard - -“ 

“Boys.” The only other woman in the room calls over, drawing your gaze to find she’s also stood up and come around the table to lean against it with her arms crossed. Lifting a somewhat sardonic brow at you, she condescendingly tips her head to one side. “I believe The Balladeer is correct. He captured our little guest which makes her his prisoner. It is not our place to question how any in our ranks accomplishes their goals.” 

“That’s hardly the point, Arlecchino!” Childe insists, confirming that you had indeed guessed her identity correctly. “Prisoner or not, she’s - -“ 

“In safe hands, I’m sure.” The Doctor throws in with a smug, simpering smirk under his mask. “Her Majesty the Tsaritsa only said not to kill her. She never said anything about not being permitted to … play with her a little bit. Don’t you think this is an ample opportunity for us to properly introduce ourselves, Regrator?” 

You follow the direction he glances in to see that he’s talking to the one with glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. So that was Pantalone, then. 

Huffing and puffing his frustration with all of them, Childe disbelievingly glances around at the assembled Harbingers as if he couldn’t quite believe what they were suggesting. It’s not hard to see he’s the closest thing you have to an ally here, but he was only one in a group of six and the youngest among them at that. There was no way he’d be able to save you from your ultimate fate unless he wanted to take everyone on by himself. 

And given the way his hands clench into tight, angry fists at his sides, you’re not so sure he won’t do it. 

“And what exactly are you proposing we do with her?” Arlecchino finally hedges, ignoring the murmurs of rising discourse from her colleagues in favor of getting straight to the point of the matter. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Scaramouche clicks his tongue in annoyance as he jostles you forward to stand just in front of him. “We’ve got a point to make now that we have her so why pretend otherwise? None of you are good people so don’t kid yourselves into believing otherwise. Yes, that includes you, Tartaglia.” 

Your wide, panicked eyes flicker in his direction to find Childe opening his mouth to snap at the puppet, his body so stiff and tightly braced that you think he might really launch himself in attack. He never gets a chance to follow through on it though as Scaramouche’s unoccupied hand comes up to grab a fistful of your cloak and yank it open with a violent jerk. 

All at once your bare body is assaulted with a sudden, merciless rush of cold air, and you squeak a horrified sound around the gag as you jerk in alarm. Your nipples were already stiff and achingly pointed coils, and they just tighten even more against the wafting air to make you tremble a sensitive shudder. Whatever Childe had been about to say dies in his throat, choking on it when his mouth drops open in genuine shock. It’s like he truly couldn’t believe what he was seeing and you whimper a flustered sound at him, pleading for him to help you. 

“Don’t even think about it.” Scaramouche viciously hisses behind you, though you can’t quite tell if he’d aimed that at you or his colleague. But it doesn’t really matter either way, because he just shoves you forward to steer you towards the table without giving anyone a chance to say anything more about it. 

Openly blinking at the fleshy bounce of your naked tits, Arlecchino slowly unfolds her arms and steps aside to allow The Balladeer room to shove you up against the side of the table. You wildly kick and flail, struggling against the rope keeping your arms bound behind you with every ounce of strength you have left, but it’s no use. After a perfunctory fight for leverage, he manages to get you hauled up on the table and flipped over where he roughly pins you down by the shoulders. 

Raggedly panting through your nose now, you peer up into Scaramouche’s leering face. The distant prickle of frightened tears registers somewhere far in the back of your mind but you valiantly force them back, knowing good and well that such display of weakness wouldn’t do you any good here. Not in this particular crowd. Not with these people, and you merely hiss like an incensed cat as you try to squirm free of his hold. 

“Mmffh!”

“That’s it, Traveler. Keep struggling. I’m sure that’ll just excite some of us even more.” The Sixth croons at you, laughing a silken, throaty sound under his breath as he crawls all the way up to fully straddle you. 

For a split second you can make out a commotion rising up behind him but it’s quickly subdued, and Arlecchino’s soft spoken voice filters through the oppressive atmosphere immediately after. She must be talking to Childe, you think. No doubt trying to talk some reason into him even though he was the only other reasonable person here besides you right now. 

Unfortunately you don’t get to linger on that thought for very long because a gloved hand reaching into your space catches your attention, and you squeak a terrified sound as you tip your head back to follow that arm up to its owner. Somehow you’re not particularly surprised to find it’s The Doctor curling his fingers around the meat of your tit to give it a consideringly tight squeeze, making you whimper at the sharp discomfort. He just chuckles a low laugh though, clearly amused by the flash of pain that crosses your face, and he quickly does it again. 

“Fret not, little Traveler. If Tartaglia wants you so bad then we’ll be happy to give you to him. After we’ve finished playing with you first, of course.” 

“I didn’t take you for the sort, Dottore. Your interests always seemed to lean more towards that of machine than the comfort of human women.” The exceptionally tall one comments in a rather offhand manner considering what was happening right in front of him. 

“Oh, but you wound me, Captain. I’m always a scientist first and foremost before anything else, and I’m quite curious to find out how human this one really is.” 

You noise an equally confused and startled sound at that, brows furrowing up at his awful beaked mask. If Scaramouche hadn’t been pinning you down with the full brunt of his weight, you would have happily flung your foot through the air to kick him right in his smug face and you would have taken a great deal of satisfaction in doing so. Something told you he probably deserved it more than anyone else here. 

But then the sensation of another hand slipping over the opposite side of your chest startles you back into the present, and you glance over to find Pantalone gently groping at the weight of your breast. At your helpless wail through the gag, he just smiles a deceptively saccharine look at you, head tipping to one side almost inquisitively. 

“It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you, you know. I’ve heard so many good things about you but I wasn’t expecting such a formidable swordswoman to be quite this pretty. You’re a lovely little thing, aren’t you?” 

Working his fingers a bit higher, Pantalone rather unceremoniously grabs hold of your pebbled nipple to give it a thoughtful tug. The immediate burst of sharp, hyper sensitive sensation makes you twist on top of the table but it’s no use. They’ve got you so thoroughly pinned down and trapped between them that no amount of effort on your part was going to get you out of this. Your only hope was Childe and he’d gone mysteriously quiet wherever he was in the room, if he was even still here at all. 

The thought that he might have left you to the wolves scares you more than it has any right to, and you try to call out to him through the bamboo gag. This, too, is an effort in futility though. Even you’re not quite sure what you’re attempting to say. 

Humming a thoughtful sound, Dottore gives your aching tit one last, lingering squeeze before dragging his hand further down your body. Your stomach wildly flexes under his palm, fast pumping fear making you inch dangerously close to full on panic, but he just keeps going. Lower and lower. 

Scaramouche is quick to take his empty spot and, leaving his hands pressed into your shoulders to keep you down, he bends his head over your chest to take that abandoned nipple in his mouth. You outright jolt at the sensation and suck in a startled breath but there’s too much happening all at once for you to focus on any one thing. It’s hard to say if you should be more concerned about the Sixth Harbinger enthusiastically suckling at your sore teat or the way Pantalone is insistently tugging on the other to stretch the pliant skin. 

Even worse is the vague sense you get of Dottore stepping into the space at the bottom of the table where he rather forcefully shoves your legs apart in a wide spread. Your cunt is the only part of your chilled body that feels in any way warm at this point, but that natural heat seems to quickly leave you without the press of your thighs there to keep it in. The end result makes the fleshy seam feel indescribably bare and exposed in a way you’d never known before, like you were overly aware of every tiny little sensation that courses through it, and you wildly buck underneath Scaramouche in an attempt to dislodge him. 

“Keep her still, won’t you?” The Doctor coos as one of his gloved hands slides inward to lightly tease over your pussy. “I’d like to find out what sort of state her reproductive organs are in.” 

You squawk a startled sound at that but Pantalone just tweaks your poor nipple harder for it. 

“Now, now,” He murmurs in that liltingly soft voice. “If you don’t behave yourself, we’ll have to resort to doing something that will make you feel a bit more inclined to cooperate. Surely you don’t want it to come to that, do you?” 

The pointed, deliberate way he pinches down on the teat between his fingers makes your stomach twist itself into knots for reasons you can’t quite explain. Despite his arguably polite and handsome facade, you suspected he was just as dangerous as Dottore probably was. It wouldn’t be smart to test your luck with either of them. 

So you simply lie there and take it, wincing as The Doctor sedately works your cunt lips open and slips two long digits in to apply pressure just at your entrance. You let out a smothered cry when your body tries to reject him, not even close to being excited enough to make the penetration smooth and easy. But he simply keeps pushing in on that vulnerable spot until he can slowly inch his way into you down to the knuckle. It’s uncomfortable and borderline painful, especially with the material of his glove adding another layer of friction that didn’t need to be there, but he doesn’t care. None of them do, except maybe Childe, and all you can do is noise a shrill sound around the bamboo when Scaramouche suddenly bites down on your nipple none too gently. 

And to think he’d had you completely at his mercy this entire time but decided to hold off until he could really humiliate you and drive the point home with the other Harbingers. It was astoundingly petty of him. 

“There, that’s a good girl.” Dottore croons at you as if you were nothing more than a dog for him to bring to heel in his eyes. It’s an impression he only further solidifies when he gives your tender inner thigh a series of companionable pats before taking that hand and sliding it up to brace along your lower stomach. “You might feel some pressure but it’s nothing to worry about. Take a deep breath now …” 

He starts to push down then, surprising an undignified squawk out of you as he presses right in on your uterus. At the same time he angles the fingers in you upward to feel along your inner sleeve and gently massage against you, alarming you even more when you feel your cunt reluctantly respond to the clinical stimulation. It feels like your heart is going to jackhammer right out of your chest as you stiffly writhe against the top of the table, struggling just to keep drawing oxygen into your lungs while he rudely violates you like that. 

“Hmm. Everything certainly seems to be in order. I suppose you really are just a girl after all. Lucky you.” 

“Isn’t that good news?” Pantalone teases you, tauntingly walking his fingers down the length of your shuddering body to crowd in next to Dottore’s between your thighs. “The Doctor has given you a clean bill of health, which means we can play as much as you’d like.” 

You give your head a terse shake, trying to tell him you didn’t want to play at all. But of course he doesn’t listen, slyly curling his fingers inward to lightly rub over your clit and help Dottore in his effort of turning your own body against you. The two of them work in shockingly perfect tandem with one another, almost like they’ve done this before. While one thrusts in and out of your cunt to encourage the production of sticky slick, the other caresses over that sensitive pleasure button to ensure you were feeling just good enough to help the process along. It was insidious and cruel. 

Not nearly as cruel as the way Scaramouche can’t seem to detach himself from your aching breasts though, and now that Pantalone has vacated his spot he quickly redirects his mouth to slurp on the opposite nipple instead. Except it’s already so raw and sensitized from the bespectacled man’s merciless tugging and pinching that the puppets mouth shocks a ragged gasp out of you. 

Your head spins wildly from the total onslaught of stimulation as you blindly kick your legs in a desperate bid to at least push Dottore away enough to give your pussy a short reprieve. But he’s situated too firmly in the space between your legs for you to budge him from this angle, and the heel of your boot just harmlessly slides right off his hip. 

Clearly realizing what you’re trying to do, Pantalone reaches down to hook his free hand in the bend of one knee and tug it out the side so you wouldn’t be able to find enough leverage or try to close your thighs from The Doctor’s concentrated attack. The sound of your cunt wetly clicking under the vigorous force of his hand seems to echo endlessly in the space between your ears and you valiantly try to fight it when the internal pressure steadily builds under his ministrations. 

There’s nothing you could do to stop it though when Dottore seemed to know exactly where to jab his fingers at inside your body, making your pussy scream in agony at the rough treatment. But against all odds you suddenly feel the dam break and your cunt let’s down under the insistent  pressure, spraying slick all over his wrist and along your shuddering inner thighs. Outright wailing in horror, you mindlessly renew your effort to thrash yourself free but, still, it’s no use. 

You were completely, utterly trapped. 

“That’s a good girl, Traveler. Such a sweet, obedient little cunt you have.” Dottore croons at you, his voice laced with sharp edged malice. “I haven’t had need of a woman in at least two-hundred years now, but for you I think I’ll make an exception.” 

“Wait.” 

You startle at the sound of Arlecchino’s voice coming from right beside you, blearily glancing up to find her standing just next to your head. Somehow you’d almost forgotten she was there at all. 

“Wait for what?” The Doctor impatiently snaps at her. 

“Let Childe have her first. He’s the youngest so it doesn’t seem very polite to make him wait until after you’ve already used her up, and … he’s still not particularly happy about what’s happening anyway. It should make him feel better if he understands what we’re doing to her.” 

A faint growl rises from Scaramouche when he finally brings his head up from your aching chest, leaving the nipples feeling flushed and raw in the wake of his mouth. “Watch it, Knave. I thought we already agreed she’s my prisoner.” 

“No one is disputing that, Balladeer. I’m only suggesting what I think will benefit us the most. Besides,” Cooly dragging her gaze over to regard you, she studies your frazzled, wide eyed expression for a short moment. “I suspect she will appreciate that consideration as well. After all, their rapport with one another is a fascinating development that I don’t think any of us saw coming. It only makes sense to capitalize on it, no?” 

Scaramouche draws a quick breath to snap back with something no doubt sharp and biting, but Dottore cuts him off with an abrupt laugh. 

“She's right, puppet. This should at the very least be an interesting show to watch.” Abruptly slipping his fingers out of you with a tiny wet slurp to leave your pussy weakly contracting around nothing, The Doctor steps to the side to presumably make room for the Eleventh Harbinger. “Go on then, Tartaglia. I’ve already got her warmed up for you. Surely at your age you don’t need any instruction on how to fuck a woman, do you?” 

You can’t quite make out what’s happening behind Scaramouche aside from a briefly heated exchange that makes you foolishly hope he won’t go through with it. Childe could still put a stop to this if he just didn’t give in to Dottore’s jeering peer pressure and instead used his brain to think of a way to get you out of here. 

But when The Balladeer pushes up to sit on top of you, throwing a vaguely disgusted scoff over his shoulder before he grudgingly moves to climb down, you implicitly understand that this is not going to work out as you’d hoped it would. He would have no reason to dismount otherwise when he’d seemed perfectly content nuzzling into your breasts like little more than a newborn. 

Sure enough, once everyone has moved aside enough for you to lift your head and glance down at the foot of the table, you find Childe standing there with a truly tortured look marring his youthful face. He’s visibly torn and conflicted about the situation, whatever feelings he had for you clashing with his duty as a Fatui Harbinger. You had no idea what Arlecchino had said to him but it must have been sufficiently convincing if he was even considering this. 

“Mmffhh! Mmm mmnngghh!” 

Slowly lifting his head at your wordless cries, Childe looks down at you with a truly regretful frown tugging at his expression. And for a drawn out moment he just stares at you, spread out on the table completely naked save the tall boots on your feet and the heavy cloak spread out underneath you. It was something you probably would have been happy to show him under better circumstances, but better circumstances would not have found five of his peers standing around you in a loose circle watching on in rapt, fascinated silence. 

It was enough to make anyone cry, and you sniffle rather sadly when he at last gives his head a solemn shake. 

“I’m sorry, Traveler. If you hadn’t been caught … if you hadn’t let Scaramouche defeat you and take you prisoner we wouldn’t have to do this. But you’re a threat to our plans only as long as you can back it up, so we have to show you just how powerless you really are.” 

As if you really needed to have that demonstrated to you like this! 

Indignantly squawking, you try to push yourself upright to sit but Arlecchino is quick to grab your shoulder with a clawed hand and shove you back down. Even realizing for the upteenth time that you were thoroughly at their mercy like this, you still weakly kick your legs in the air in an attempt to dissuade anyone from slipping between them again. 

But Childe just shuffles forward to grab your ankles easily enough despite the flailing, forcing them to bend towards your chest as he steps right up against you. The front of his pants presses into  your bare cunt like this and you immediately squeal at the weight of him pushing in on your body. For a split second you almost don’t believe it. That he would really get this achingly stiff from watching you be defiled by other men, but he was young and hot blooded enough that it made a certain amount of sense. Of course the fight to subdue and dominate would get him worked up. 

“Mmffhhh!” 

“Shh, shh. Just relax, Traveler. I promise I won’t hurt you, okay?” 

That hardly makes you feel any better as you screw your eyes shut and turn your head away so you don’t have to watch Childe reach down to free himself from his slacks. In truth, you would have otherwise been happy to sleep with him but not like this. Just not like this! 

“Oh, isn’t that cute.” Pantalone purrs from somewhere just to your left, chuckling a soft laugh under his breath. “I think our little guest is getting emotional now.” 

“As expected.” Dottore agrees with him, also laughing at your expense. 

“Here.” Arlecchino suddenly says, prompting you to blink through the rising sting of tears at her. You’re more than slightly taken aback to find her holding a long, dark strip of cloth in front of your face and you whimper up at her in question. “This should help. Deep breaths now, sweet dove. That’s it. Just relax.” 

You realize she’s going to blindfold you as she starts to bring it closer but there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop it, mewling a helpless sound while she works to tie it off at the back of your head. With the loss of your eyesight comes an even greater perception of your hearing and you listen to Childe fumble between your legs as your neck lolls back against the table. There was certainly comfort to be found in the impenetrable darkness but it doesn’t do much to ease the nausea inducing anxiety in your gut. In fact, it actually seems to make it worse. 

But you don’t even have the ability to tell her you don’t want it when your mouth is still thoroughly gagged, and you pitifully jump when Childe finally reaches down to take hold of your hips. Dragging you closer to the edge of the table, he takes a moment to press his cock into the seam of your body again, this time without anything standing in the way, and he just basks in the sticky heat coming off you for a drawn out beat. 

You understand in a far off, dreamy sort of way that this was really going to happen and your powerlessness to stop it soon has the tears breaking free to soak into the cloth around your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Traveler.” He says again, one last time before the fleshy drag of his cock head angles down to your entrance where he slowly starts to push in. 

You plaintively squawk at the pressure on your already sore and abused cunt, fiercely shuddering underneath him as he leans his weight into you to help ease himself inside. The worst part is that he’s far from small and he stretches you out even more than Dottore’s fingers had, but at least he’s gentle about it where The Doctor certainly had not been. It’s a small consolation in this nightmarish scenario, and even for as much as you appreciate it you can’t quite seem to stop your chest from frantically heaving with the labored gasps you suck in through your nose. 

And he sensitively groans over you, clearly trying to stifle the sound but your enhanced hearing picks up on it anyway. You didn’t doubt his feelings on the matter were not dissimilar to yours, yet he doesn’t stop. He just keeps reaching deeper and deeper into your body until he at last settles his pelvis against yours with a rattling breath and you positively squirm where he’s got you impaled on him. Your arms were already long numb from laying on top of them for so long with the circulation to your hands impeded by the too tight rope, but they still scream in protest at your restless fidgeting. 

“Burn everything, that’s a tight fit.” Childe murmurs, breathless and stretched thin. 

He stiffly hovers you for another moment, no doubt trying to find his bearings, which you were admittedly glad for the chance it gives your pussy to adjust to his size. But then, he’s moving against you, experimentally rolling his hips at first and that quickly turns into a halting, unevenly cantered thrusting motion that makes your tits start to bounce with the force. The sensation of your painfully stiff nipples cutting through the air is a stark one, prompting you to dramatically arch your back in a vain bid to stop them from moving so much. 

It fails, of course, and you hear Scaramouche suck in a faint breath that he doesn’t actually need from the right side of the softly creaking table. You weren’t entirely sure what his fascination with your tits was about, but you weren’t convinced it was anything good. 

“She likes it.” The Captain announces rather abruptly, reminding you that he was standing off to the back of the gathered assembly to disinterestedly watch the proceedings. You can’t help thinking that was probably for the best, as you really did not want to find out how big someone of his size was firsthand. 

Worst of all, you were ashamed to admit that he was right. Despite all the rough treatment and the less than ideal circumstances, your pussy was indeed warming up to the stretch of Childe’s cock inside you, and tingly little sparks of pleasurable friction were beginning to light up all of the nerve endings in a potent rush. Oh, this could not be happening right now. 

“I think she’d like it more if you put your back into it.” Dottore drawls, adding his two mora even though no one had asked him. Of everyone here, you found him to be perhaps the most insufferable of all. 

Grunting a masculine sound, Childe distractedly shifts against you to presumably glance over at The Doctor. “Hey, this isn’t supposed to be a spectator sport, you know. If I’d wanted your — ooughn, your commentary, I would have said so.” 

“Well, I for one think you’re doing a spectacular job.” Pantalone chimes in, the condescending note in his otherwise pleasant voice making a self conscious shudder work down your spine. 

“Damn. Just be quiet! All of you.” Hunching further over your prone frame, Childe wraps his fingers around your ribcage so he can nudge you down to meet the rhythmic push of his narrow hips. It hadn’t taken him long to fall into a natural, even paced tempo that makes the meaty smack of his skin colliding with yours ring loud in the room. 

You can also pick up the sticky clicks coming from your cunt each time he drives into you, carving out a space for himself and forcing your squeezing cunt to take him, again and again. It’s humiliating to realize just how wet you were getting, all the more so when you knew at least half of it was because of that damned Doctor. 

For better or worse Childe doesn’t seem to take any offense, or at least his body doesn’t, and he quickly begins to lose himself in the tight clutch between your legs. The initially tentative thrusts turn quick and desperate, his hips taking over for his higher functioning mind to instinctively guide him towards the finish line. You can tell, just as the others likely can, that he’s not very experienced when it comes to this particular activity, and you almost find yourself feeling thankful for that when his hushed grunts soon take on a dire tinge. This part of your humiliation at least would be over sooner rather than later. 

“How cute.” The Balladeer snips, clearly unimpressed with the effort of his colleague but Childe deliberately ignores him. 

He’s much too caught up in chasing his release now to pay them any mind, your breath hitching in your throat when his fingers start to subconsciously dig deeper into your sides. He was getting close and, you were beyond mortified to realize, your own arousal was steadily ratcheting up as well to nearly keep pace with his. The tension in your guts was tortuous but you don’t quite make it to the breaking point before he heaves a sensitive sound and yanks himself back, once again leaving your pussy to impotently squeeze around nothing. 

You can tell by the sharp, seething hiss he lets out that he’s cumming — probably straight into his waiting hand, if you had to guess — and a dizzying rush of numb relief immediately crashes over you. At least you probably didn’t have to worry about him getting you pregnant. Aside from Pantalone you weren’t so sure about the others, if they even had seed that could take in your womb, but you were glad for Childe’s foresight on the matter all the same. It seemed he still cared about you on some level. 

“Bah!” Dottore suddenly exclaims, making you jolt in surprise. “Get out of the way, Tartaglia. I should have known better than to leave this to you. What’s the point in it if you don’t even leave your mark on her?” 

A brief shuffle of bodies starts up by your feet, the two of them no doubt trading places again, but you’re distracted by a pair of hands carefully touching your head. You give a fearful little start only to realize it must be Arlecchino, given the sharp claws, and you whimper a soft sound when she nudges your neck up to get at the tie keeping your gag in place. It takes you a prolonged moment to understand that she’s going to remove it from your mouth, your heart galloping out of control as you suck in a harried breath. 

Thank the stars! Your jaw felt like it would never work right again after being wedged open for so long. 

“Watch and learn, boy.” The Doctor says ruefully from somewhere down by the foot of the table but you hardly have the presence of mind to focus on him right now. 

The strip of bamboo finally loosens and you weakly work to spit it out as Arlecchino reaches around to pluck it from between your swollen lips. You suck in your first real, full breath of air in a very long time when she pulls it away, feeling dizzy and more than a little nauseous from the head rush. 

You’re still gingerly working your jaw to try and restore some of the feeling to the numb joints when she carefully angles your head back against the solid wood, holding you in place as if to make sure you can’t escape. 

“Wha -“ 

She’s suddenly kissing you, smothering your mouth with hers to swallow the squawk of surprise you let out. There was some part of you that has assumed she wouldn’t touch you, either by virtue of not being attracted to another woman or because she would have no need for the boys’ leftovers once they were through, but she’s managed to successfully catch you off guard. 

Perhaps even more concerning is the fact you slowly start to kiss her back, coaxed into it by the steady, demanding push and pull of her painted lips. There’s something in the way she works her mouth over yours that begets compliance and you’re hardly in any position to fight it. 

Until, that is, you feel Dottore line himself up with your entrance, the fleshy brush of his glans against slick creases and folds causing you to startle. Rattling a vicious sound, you yank your mouth away from Arlecchino’s to turn your face up at The Doctor even though you couldn’t see him through the blindfold. You know he’s there though and that frightens you perhaps more than anything else at the moment, but The Knave merely slides one of her elegant hands forward to wrap it around your neck. 

“Little Traveler,” She softly hums at you, giving your throat a brief squeeze. “Are you so frightened of my colleague here that you think you can forget about me?” 

You give your head a mute shake, struggling just to keep your lungs expanding as Dottore roughly enters you with a quick snap of his hips that seems to sink him about halfway inside. The only indication you have that he’s not quite finished yet is the rumbling sound he issues before leaning further into you, feeding even more of his cock into your pussy, and you choke at the sensation of being stretched open in a completely different way than before. You didn’t think he was necessarily bigger than Childe, but the shape of him … 

“Uwa - aaaah!” 

“Hush, girl. This is no way for a warrior to face their enemy in defeat.” 

The sound of The Captain’s voice suddenly right beside you alarms you a great deal, and you blindly push back on Arlecchino’s hold with a frantic little sound. Anything but him. Anyone but him! 

The Knave firmly keeps you in place though no matter how wildly you try to thrash yourself free, keeping your head slightly elevated while Dottore begins to fuck into you with quick, demanding thrusts that seem to knock something loose within you. Your pussy positively gushes around him, loudly sucking at his length each time he angles his hips back now, but you’re a bit too distracted by the sensation of something massive leaning over you to give him your attention right now. 

It must be The Captain getting right up in your face, of that you were almost certain. Oh, how you wished you could see what was going on. But when you try to work your mouth to ask Arlecchino to remove the blindfold, all that comes out are tiny, breathless little moans that Dottore forces up your throat each time he sinks himself in you straight down to the hilt. You couldn’t even get your tongue to formulate a single word now that you were actually capable of speaking. Dammit. 

“I expected better from you.” Capitano rumbles, making you uncontrollably shake when you realize he seemed to be hovering mere inches from your nose. What was he — “I usually have no interest or need for such activities, but I can see now that you haven’t been taught this particular lesson yet. You need to learn from a more accomplished warrior before you are set loose again.” 

You’re not entirely sure what he’s talking about but then you feel something slimy, long and snake-like reach out to flick over your cheek and you practically wretch in disgust. Was that a tongue? 

“Do you understand why I brought you here now, Traveler?” Scaramouche purrs almost directly into your ear, so close you can feel his lips just barely brushing against your skin. You can’t help the gasp you suck in at his unexpectedly close proximity only to immediately choke on it, teeth gnashing when his hand comes up to idly pull at one of your nipples again. He was a relentless thing!  “If she doesn’t already, she will soon enough.” Pantalone softly adds to further make your head spin. It seemed like there were too many voices and sounds coming from all around you, your overwhelm only exacerbated by the constant drilling of Dottore’s cock into you. It was too much and you felt like you were going to be sick. “After all, we have to wait for Her Majesty to decide her final verdict so we’ve got plenty of time to ensure she understands. Don’t worry though, Traveler. We’ll make sure to take good care of you while you’re here.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

[pen-observing]

beauty and curiosity

synopsis: As Dottore's research assistant, you had to keep your curiosity on par with what he expected. You never thought that what sparked it after so much time would be Capitano himself

word count: 3k pairing: capitano x gn! reader (slight dottore if you wish to imagine it so, I did)

The door that greets your open eyes is the same like always. Brown wood that someone else picked before you. You can't say that they had bad taste, the door is placed nicely to the right corner and you little friend from last night - the spider- greets you even with this dawn. You wonder if he stayed there the whole night while you were sleeping as a thank you to the mercy you extended him. You did not kill him, and he did not move to make a new web. maybe he saw that as an equal trade? You probably would have left him alive anyway. Someone told you long before that seeing a spider was like a hint that you will get lucky in the following few days. So, even as your feet touch the cold wooden floor, you decide to still have mercy and to open the door without killing him to get breakfast. 

Maybe they are lucky omens, maybe they are not. But it is not like killing him or carrying him out the window would change much for you. Your eyes would see the same door tomorrow. The floor would feel cold again and you would pick the same mug off the drying dishes in your kitchen to start the day with. 

These routines did not bother you themselves, no. What was bothersome was the fact that you realized how, eventually, everyone develops to have them as creatures of habit. It was inevitable to turn into someone who repeats the same things over and over again. Even the harbinger you serve - one with multiple bodies, had his own routines. His younger clones had far more rebellion towards them but even they still had a need to keep a specific space, to prioritize one thing over the other like second nature. 

Truth be told - you were not asked to pick who you would serve. Dottore ended up being the harbinger you would serve as an assistant. and you were not the only one picked for that role. He liked to keep plenty of staff. Part of it was that he needed an audience to showcase his own talents and immense intelligence to, while another part of him was a bit less selfish. Dottore was willing to teach those who had true curiosity and spirit according to his own criteria and for whatever reason, you managed to remain as one of the few assistants he kept close at hand. As close as he would allow that is and with a man like him that still meant millions of lightyears away. 

You do not mind that in the slightest. What kept you around despite your failures and 'shortcomings' of having a moral compass in his lab was that he deemed your curiosity the highest out of anyone he had met. He once told you that if you were not serving him, the abyss would have swallowed you whole because you would wonder about its properties the same way you wondered about colors when you were younger. 

"Why are apples red and why is the sky blue? from your childhood would just turn into questions about the inside shapes of the abyss and you would be swallowed by curiosity." Were his exact words. 

Dottore believed that true curiosity could not be fabricated even at his own hands so while you were the not best person for experiments at the start, you were the one who suited his own curious nature. 

'What good is a doctor who cures a disease without wondering about the cause? Without wondering about its transformations? What good is an engineer who cannot disassemble parts at the same speed he would assemble them at? And what good is a person who cannot see beyond the usual?" 

He said you could see beyond the usual but in all honesty, sometimes it feels like you can't see past this mug. Or this window looking out into the street next to your breakfast table. Sometimes you felt like you could not see beyond the speck of dust or the peel of a citrus fruit. 

Maybe that is why when he gave you a choice to leave, you decided to stay. While every Dottore clone had his own routines, they managed to keep a constant cycle of novelty. Working at his lab eventually brought more interesting things than you could have found yourself. 

Was beauty in the new? Or was it in the old? 

You were deeply unsure. 

Dottore was not above punishing you despite keeping you around. For a few days, Dottore did not hear you utter a singular question in his lab and he found it so offensive you would dare to become ignorant to his breakthroughs. It seemed like you were bored of him and his research and he decided that a proper punishment would be to have you spend a whole month in the city farthest away from the main fatui base and from the tsaritsa. 

if you were so bored of constant novelty - you might as well experience true boredom by residing in his abandoned lab in a peaceful town where everyone with something exciting to offer already moved away. The worst part? You did not feel like anything changed. 

Numbness even touches curiosity. So, what if your door is now on the right instead of the left? What if the mug is pink instead of white? What if you were there or here? Differences are miniscule and nothing could make your curiosity perk up. If you were still like this when he summoned you back - you would be sent home and that is all there was to it. Or, he would further punish you by extending your stay. He could laugh at you when you mixed the things in the wrong way or when you failed to fix a core and it would explode. But what he absolutely refused is to have your curiosity dim down. If it did, you would be useless. 

And it isn't like you have not tried to find something interesting. While you were on the trip to get to here, you tried to find something interesting. Perhaps some plants that would show something new or an animal that would make for a good study case. You did want to try and see how many generations it would take for animals to break a trauma response their parents exhibited alone but even that went out of the window after a few seconds. 

If you could not find anything worthwhile in this town - you would be doomed to feel this way forever. Black and white thinking but not without basis. Stubborn curiosity and stubborn numbness started to go hand in hand for you. Maybe if you closed your eyes and prayed, your spark of curiosity would find an object for it to love and latch onto? 

In the next moment, your spoon made a small noise. It moved from one side of your mug to the other. Nothing unusual, right? You just wanted to make the tea and honey come together but when you looked down you realized that your hands did not make it move. You already finished doing that around three minutes ago. To prove to yourself what it feels like, your hands moved to make the same motion and the fog over your brain lifted as you felt that danger was near. Somehow this spoon moved and it was not your doing. 

With all your senses, you tried to pinpoint what exactly had happened but you were unsuccessful. Even if something was here, it masked its presence so well that a ghost would be ashamed. You did not feel a void, but you did not feel any warmth either. Unnerving. Unusual.   Interest could be found in fear but you were unsure where to search. 

Luckily for you, the presence had decided to make itself know. With a slight thud, footsteps approached you without your door ever opening. Was this mercy extended towards you in the same way you treated your spider? It sure felt that way. 

"My sincere apologies for startling you." Now you had to look up from the mug to search for the stranger. But, with his deep voice and polite manner of speaking, you knew who it belonged to already. Capitano, the first of the eleven fatui harbingers. Your own Lord always said he did not care much for rankings but a certain sour taste would be in his words whenever he spoke of this man. You had not made contact with him previously but in a way, you felt that it was cruel fate that only one number separated you from the most noble and righteous harbinger and a heretic. 

"Based on my previous visits to this abandoned small lab, I never encountered another soul here. When I felt your presence, I had to judge if you were sent here or if you were trying to steal information that belongs to our organisation." 

You stood up and saluted him. It comes like second nature. "Lord harbinger, you were doing your duty. No need for apologies." 

"Nonsense. I felt that I had startled you and should have thought of Dottore sending his own forces to abandoned labs before I made such a move." 

Talking to other lords never came quite easy to you. Dottore enjoyed much of questioning and random rambles but other Lords were known to punish just for being asked a question by wretched vermin. But suddenly, you felt that Capitano filled the room with a presence. It seemed like he could choose to be a void or actually have spiritual warmth. How many years had he taken to perfect this? 

In fact, how many years has he been alive? Did your lord simply hate him because he was branded with number two? Why did he always wear a mask? 

You had heard so many rumours in bars and gatherings of other servants and soldiers but Capitano's own men never gossiped. Not even when they were at their most drunk. That is - they never spoke of their own lord with anything other than praise. 

Where did that admiration come from? Had anyone seen him without a mask or cry perhaps? 

"Your silence makes for a rather awkward companion. But I can tell you have questions." 

"I have been called curious before, but it has been a while since I was curious about anything deeply." 

Capitano moved a few steps to open a drawer with syringes in it. 

"Are you not a researcher and is this not a lab of your famed lord?" 

"Yes is my answer to both of those questions." 

His gloved hands picked up two syringes and he did not look at you while he was doing so. You were not part of Dottore's team when he made them and their unique mix of colors piqued your interest. One of those colors looked like synth vaguely but the other one was similar to lava. Just how many experiments of Dottore's were you unaware of? 

"And should this not be a prime place for you when the answer is yes to both. What have you been doing all this time?" 

"Looking around this lab without actually touching anything for longer than a few seconds. I also kicked out a lot of spiders but last night I let one stay." 

Capitano did not seem perplexed with your paradoxical answers. He could see your eyes eying his syringes with interest when you refused to take them apart and analyse the contents for however long you have been here. He felt no malice or dishonesty in your being, so he simply continued to move like you were not here. He had done this countless times before. 

"I will not tell you what is inside of these syringes if that is one of your questions." 

He sat down on a chair on the other side of your mug. 

"I did have questions about the contents but I would have asked the syringes themselves not you. Even if it seems that I might melt or change shape from simply being exposed to them in any capacity. 

"Hmm. You make a valid point. What keeps me a monster would make you disappear. I suggest you stay away from these unless you wish to meet a cruel fate." 

"Lord first, you give me a kind warning but you speak of being a monster." 

"And what is your observation meant to accomplish?" 

"Nothing. Well, I could say it will help me keep my form too." 

"You are an ordinary human." It didn't feel like an insult. It felt like he was praising such simpleness. 

"What form do you speak of?" 

This time he was looking at you. You could not see his eyes from his helmet but you could feel his gaze on you. Without flinching or moaning, all while keeping his eyes solely on you - Capitano stabbed his thigh and his heart with the two syringes he had prepared. 

It seemed like he felt nothing but you felt both warmth and cold at once and in a second the overwhelming feeling was gone. It was so overwhelming that your curiosity made you run over and place your hands over his own to feel any remnants of energy. Touching any other harbinger so casually would have meant a number of different fates but Capitano was a kind man. 

"If you are here to inspect me, there is no need. I know what I am doing and these will not kill me." 

You helped him remove them even if he truly seemed like he did not need help. You could run towards the drawer he pulled them out from but the object of your interest were not the syringes themselves. 

Your curiosity was this man himself. For the first time in a while, your brain started to race with questions and theories. Just who was he and what was he hiding. 

"What is the reason you are so familiar with using these? Why are you here? Are you a monster?" 

"Indeed. I belong to them." 

"Beings? You speak of yourself as if you are not human. Just what is behind that mask of yours?" 

Perhaps Dottore was right, the abyss would swallow you whole if it interested you. Maybe it still can? If you get out of this situation alive - if you survive removing the mask of the famed and powerful harbinger - you could go out to uncover new condensed abyssal energy. 

You finally got your curiosity back and allowing it to run out would be a crime against yourself. Curiosity filled your whole body and Capitano felt cold to your touch as you looked at his face. 

"You call yourself a monster because of this?" 

"Are you perhaps about to call it beauty like that twisted doctor you serve?" 

Maybe he expected a bigger reaction than this. Maybe you failed him, but you did not fail yourself. 

"Beauty? There is nothing beautiful about it." 

"At least you don't call rot beautiful like your own master." 

"Your ice is above my head so I suppose your reputation proceeds you. You are kind enough to let me get my words out." 

"Speak." 

"There is nothing beautiful about the rot of skin. However, you are not a monster. You are undoubtedly human." 

"Laughable." 

But he did not laugh. He found you foolish. You dared to overstep twice. Removing his helmet was one thing but trying to comfort him was another. 

"You are human, lord harbinger. Did you know that my own lord does not rot? Did you know he has made others unable to rot? In an odd way, this rot makes you more human than you believe." 

You can't tell if your words caused a change or if they were comforting or insulting. This man has lived more lives than you ever will and he had seen and spilled more blood than you can imagine. He does not need comfort from you. That much is clear. 

Still, as the ice descends, he makes it disappear with his hand and you emerge unharmed. 

"Your curiosity saved you." 

"I always thought it would eat me alive." 

"It almost did. I never heard of anyone gaining a vision and immediately aiming at themselves." 

A cryo vision had manifested in your lap without you even noticing. When you looked back up, Capitano had already pulled down his mask. 

"Why didn't you stop me? You could have made me regret my choice the instant I tried to touch you."  

"I had never seen anyone gain a vision in such a way. I suppose my own curiosity got the better of me."  

He got up from the chair and you noticed just how much taller and imposing he was from such close proximity. You really were in the presence of danger and still chose risk instead of safety. Capitano was already moving towards the door and something compelled you to sit back down and finally drink the tea that had grown cold.  

He was in the doorway now. You were thinking of what would happen to you now that you had a vision. Maybe you could try to boil it? You heard they were indestructible but surely something could dissolve it? Visions were not a completely natural thing in this world.  

"Come. Bring that vision and follow me." 

"I still do not have orders to leave this place." 

"Since when were you allowed to refuse any orders from a harbinger? Dottore is not the only one you ought to listen to and I doubt he would be suitable to teach you how to use your new power." 

You would be risking Dottore's wrath and plenty of unpredictable outcomes based on which clone greets you once you are back. But, losing the object of your curiosity would doom you to a worse fate in your own eyes.  

Following Capitano would unlock a new world for you. Something told you that you would be able to find new beauty and curiosity if you took him up on his offer. 

a/n: guess who is back !! after a year!! I hope my mutuals are around still to actually guess that it is me who is back. i realized the last time i wrote was in november and the new archon quest finally inspired me.

to give you a few updates: i changed two jobs and I became less creative I am afraid. I got into a situationship/delusionship with a narc for a few months but i did not cry. i am welcoming any thoughts because after so long this was vv hard to write.

i hope you are well and that you have enjoyed this at least a little bit

[affableramen]

noise concern

suggestive, 18+ only

[bloodblanks]

the cadence within [il dottore x reader] — chapter i.

As the daughter of a moderately wealthy businessman, you lived a comfortable but solitary life. You never thought to leave your peaceful refuge, not until one of your father’s associates—who was also your only friend—made an unexpectedly tempting offer.

co-written with noodsies, however, they’re shy and wish to stay anonymous! ♡

author's note: this fanfiction will contain mature content, including explicit sexual acts, violence, dottore himself, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

<- previous chapter

Power presents itself in many different forms. Most often, those with power are thought to possess strength, intelligence, wealth, or status. However, you were not exceptionally talented in any of the above. Instead, you found yourself gifted with something much less conventional—charisma.

—

“Pantalone!” You opened the door, beaming at the raven haired man who stood before you. “Lovely seeing you here today.” You stepped back and held the door for him.

“Y/N,” Pantalone returned the smile, thick eyelashes fluttering as his eyes crinkled with joy. “The pleasure is all mine.”

He walked inside before pausing, waiting for you to push the dense mahogany door into place, making sure it locked shut. Your home was in a rather secluded location where few people passed by—much less dare intrude. Secrecy was invaluable to all of your father’s guests.

“Unfortunately,” you began, “my father is running late today, which I apologize for. But please do come in and make yourself comfortable in the meantime.”

Your father was a busy man with a full schedule, one he went out of his way to readjust for the impromptu meeting request. It would have been unreasonable to expect perfect punctuality, and the apology wasn’t necessary.

Still, you had one job, and it was to be nice.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Pantalone replied. “Your generous hospitality more than compensates for it.”

While being cordial was more of a chore with the often unpleasant and impatient businessmen your father associated with, you found Pantalone’s company an effortless task.

You weren’t sure of the exact reasons behind it, but your home was often used as a place for meetings and negotiations relating to your father’s work. You weren’t present for the discussions themselves, but you did greet and welcome every guest—something your dad was not fond of doing himself.

For someone who worked a job where conversation was important, talking was not one of your father’s strengths. Though he managed just fine when it came to business, small talk and pleasantries were burdensome activities for him, which is why you handled them instead.

It wasn’t like you particularly enjoyed talking about the weather which never deviated from cold, or listening to middle aged men complain about joint pain, but you disliked it significantly less than your dad did. If anything, you had a tendency to avoid matters of actual significance, preferring your meaningless exchanges over accountability.

Pantalone was just another one of your father’s many associates, but he visibly stood out from the rest. You didn’t know much about them, but you were confident that everyone you’ve greeted was in some way or another, a powerful dignitary.

But they were no Harbinger.

That fact alone was enough to separate Pantalone from every other person you’ve ever interacted with throughout your approximately two decades of lifespan. You didn’t know for sure, but you knew well enough that his wealth and power surpassed that of all your father’s clientele combined.

But that wasn’t what truly made him different.

Pantalone was a striking contrast to your father’s other associate; not just because he was a Harbinger, but rather he was the sole person you could consider a friend.

You hadn’t bothered making new friends after moving to Snezhnaya. There wasn’t any particular reason for it. Although confidentiality could qualify, you found yourself either occupied with your own hobbies or keeping your father company when he was actually home and not busy with work. Anything you desired was delivered directly to your residence, so you had no need to venture into the city and make small talk with the shopkeepers.

This meant your interactions were limited to your father and his associates, all of whom were as pruned and grey as him. The only exception was Pantalone, and though you didn’t know exactly how old he was—it would be rude to ask—he didn’t seem significantly older than you, both in appearance and mannerisms. At the very least, he didn’t possess the wrinkles and bitterness the others did.

At some point, you began looking forward to your interactions, which both preceded and succeeded Pantalone’s business meetings with your dad. While you still maintained an air of professionalism with you, your amity went beyond mere pleasantries.

As you led him down the wide hallways and cavernous rooms, you couldn’t help but ask the question that had been nagging at you since yesterday.

“Pantalone,” you broke the silence, “may I ask a question?”

“Of course, dear,” he replied.

“Today’s a Monday,” you stated, “and you were just here last Tuesday.” For as long as you remembered, Pantalone had a very specific schedule. Once every other week, every Tuesday, he’d visit. As far as you knew, never had he strayed from that schedule—not until now.

“Ah, as observant as ever, Y/N,” Pantalone remarked.

“And on such short notice too...” you continued, letting your words trail off before asking him directly, “Is something the matter?”

You stopped in front of your father’s study, turning the doorknob and allowing Pantalone in, before you let the door leisurely shut on its own behind you both.

“Oh, no, not at all. It’s just that business can be unpredictable at times—I’m sure you understand.” His tone was as carefree and relaxed as ever, but you were certain this was no trivial matter. However, it wasn’t your business, so you set aside your curiosity and didn’t push any further.

“You’re right,” you agreed. “I was just a bit worried that something was up. I’m glad to hear that everything’s fine.”

‘Worried’ was an exaggeration. While you did care about Pantalone, you had no reason to fret over his well being. It was unlikely that anyone or anything could pose a serious threat to him, ever—he was a Harbinger. Perhaps it was disingenuous for you to feign concern, but you thought it was a polite sentiment regardless.

All of your dad’s meetings, with all of his associates, were held in this room. It was furnished with this intent in mind; a well-lit room with a coffee table flanked by two sofas near the centre, encircled by a desk, a few china cabinets, and most importantly, a kitchenette.

“I didn’t know you cared so much, Y/N.” A teasing remark, as you should have expected. You watched as Pantalone sat down on the sofa with a smirk.

“Do I seem that heartless to you?” you prodded back.

“Quite the opposite. If anything, you have too much heart.” Your eyes widened ever so slightly, Pantalone’s reply catching you off guard—you didn’t expect him to answer so sincerely.

Despite your familiarity with conversation and flattery, you were usually the one to give compliments, not receive them.

“You’re flattering me. I’m not doing anything special,” you brushed it off awkwardly. You quickly turned towards the kitchenette to escape the topic. “Earl grey tea with cream and two sugar cubes?”

“Why, I’m flattered that you remember how I take my tea,” Pantalone said. You filled the kettle, waiting for the water to boil as you took out a teacup and saucer from the cabinet above you, along with tea leaves and an infuser. You opened the refrigerator beside you, retrieving a glass bottle of cream.

You weren’t sure how or when exactly it started, but you always had a fondness for tea. The shrubs themselves, the processing of the leaves, the plethora of varieties and tastes, the simple act of brewing tea—you adored it all. When you still lived in Fontaine, where the weather was warmer and vegetation was abundant, you would often tend to your imported Chenyu shrubs and curate the leaves yourself; something Snezhnaya’s harsh, frigid climate didn’t allow for.

Though you missed the extensiveness of your tea hobby in Fontaine, you found other ways to keep yourself occupied. The time you would have otherwise spent on picking leaves was now dedicated to baking. It was something your mother taught you from an early age, a craft you now spent time perfecting. After all, freshly baked goods were a perfect accompaniment to tea, and your father’s clients appreciated the assortment of delicacies.

It was an excuse to bake batches of pastries that you otherwise wouldn’t be able to finish if anything, but it was something everyone was happy with. The guests enjoyed your confectioneries, your father evaded vapid chit chat, and you baked to your heart’s content.

“I’ve made you tea every other week, ever since we’ve moved here,” you pointed out. “So about two and a half years. It’d be awfully rude if I didn’t remember your preferences by now.”

You earned a soft chuckle from Pantalone.

“Well, now I’m curious. What else do you remember about me?” he asked, the question making you gulp.

You did not have a good memory, and you were especially uncomfortable with being put on the spot, your brain oftentimes turning blank, forcing you to blurt out any nonsense to try and salvage whatever situation you were being put in. You tried to think of something to say so it wouldn’t be obvious that you couldn’t recall; that would be rude.

“Only your darkest secrets.” You fumbled with placing the dried leaves in the infuser.

“So you know her name then?” he interrogated, and of course you didn’t.

“Of course,” you declared with utmost confidence. “Full name, date of birth, medical records, everything.” You knew you were just digging yourself a deeper pit, but you had just poured the water and the tea wasn’t done steeping yet.

“And what about her death certificate?” he continued. You stirred the tea rapidly, pouring in just the right amount of cream alongside two sugar cubes, before picking it up and serving it with the plate of madeleines you had baked earlier.

“That’s included in the medical records.” You placed the tea down on the coffee table a bit too hard. You made sure to place the plate down more gently, as if to absolve yourself of embarrassment. “Here’s your tea. And of course, some madeleines I baked this morning.”

You sat down on the sofa across from him, awaiting his expression as he brought the teacup to his lips, sipping the beverage with elegance.

“It appears you really are as observant as ever,” he smiled with visible satisfaction.

“I’m observant when people are interesting,” you noted, relieved that the conversation had finally shifted.

“Is that so?” Pantalone put down the teacup. “Y/N, what about me do you find interesting?”

There were a plethora of things you found interesting about him, and you wondered if some of them would be too intrusive or direct to point out given his status, but promptly discarded the consideration.

“Well, for starters,” you said, “you’re a Harbinger.”

“Oh my,” Pantalone spoke with feigned surprise. “I nearly forgot!” He reached towards the plate, picking up one of your madeleines and taking a bite. You watched his face hungrily for validation, awaiting his judgement of your madeleines. Even though your confectioneries were never worse than satisfactory, you often liked to try new variations or entirely different recipes, taking note of any feedback from guests to further improve your skills.

“Wonderful baking as always, Y/N.” Pantalone’s words seemed to align with the pleased expression on his face, and you couldn’t help but grin, feeling proud of yourself.

“You know,” Pantalone started, bringing your attention back to the conversation, “such status can be quite cumbersome. People behave rather differently around you. It becomes hard to tell when such pleasantries and favours are coming from a place of genuine kindness, or somewhere else.”

The atmosphere suddenly dropped to a more solemn tone, startling you.

“Be that as it may, I’ve always felt at ease in your company. Contrary to popular opinion... us Harbingers aren’t all that different from everyone else, and I feel refreshingly ordinary in your presence.”

You listened to him attentively, musing over his sentences in your head to carefully formulate a response.

“Refreshingly ordinary...” you muttered. “I didn’t expect to hear that. If anything, you’re quite special to me. Regardless, I’m happy to hear that I’ve been pleasant company for you. The feeling is mutual.”

You finished speaking, a wistful smile on your face as you glanced downwards, the focus slipping from your gaze. While you and Pantalone had many conversations over the years, they primarily consisted of playful banter and idle chatter. Rarely would you be as pensive as you were now, and while sentimentality usually made you uncomfortable, you found yourself not minding it right now. Perhaps you were more lonely than you had originally considered, but you realized your words held more truth than expected.

Pantalone was someone special to you. There used to be others, too. When you still lived in Fontaine, you had close friends; people you deeply valued and cared for. But distance does not make the heart grow fonder. Distance simply meant the space between, and the space from Snezhnaya to Fontaine would parallel the growing disconnect between you and the ones you used to hold dear.

Everything in Teyvat had a limit to its elasticity, tangible or not. Things can only be stretched so far before the tension eventually causes it to sever. Emotional connection was no exception to that. Despite your agreements to continue writing one another and keep in contact, eventually the letters became fewer and longer between. The last time you had received a letter was about seven months ago.

People separate. People move on. It was only natural, and you had come to accept it. You had no idea what your former friends were doing now, but you were probably nothing more than a passing thought in their heads every once in a blue moon.

You didn’t often reminisce about them, either. But when you did, you would naturally ponder the idea of making new friends. Even though it would be wise to make an effort, you didn’t want to. Meeting new people, getting to know them, becoming as close to them as you were with your former friends—it was exhausting just to think about. You didn’t want to bother yourself with something so tedious.

But since Pantalone had been routinely visiting for the past few years, your attachment to him inevitably grew without you even realizing it.

Your rumination was interrupted by the sound of heavy, pounding footsteps rapidly approaching.

“Oh,” you said, “it seems like my father’s—”

“—Oh, Lord Pantalone, please forgive the delay!” The door flung wide open, your father rushing into the room. “Such tardiness in the face of a Harbinger is unacceptable and—”

“—Please, it’s all right, F/N,” Pantalone tried to calm your very much frantic father. “I was enjoying a lovely conversation over tea with your daughter just now and—”

“—No, no, no! This will not do!” your father declared. “You must be impossibly busy with work! We should discuss business as soon as possible—Y/N, you may take your leave now while we discuss urgent matters!”

You were halfway through getting up when Pantalone spoke.

“Well, actually, F/N, the reason I requested this meeting was because I wanted to speak with you regarding your daughter.”

What?

Your head snapped towards Pantalone, the rest of your body still frozen in an awkward motion between standing and sitting, your eyes wide with shock and mild horror.

You weren’t sure if you had heard him right or not. But judging by the similarly surprised look on your dad’s face, you likely heard him correctly.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t ever thought of Pantalone as attractive. His elegantly styled black hair was smooth and silky—or at least it appeared so, you never ran your fingers through it—and his skin was radiant, fair as porcelain, his amethyst irises embellished with full sets of ebony lashes, sitting behind intricate silver glasses that framed his gracefully poised face just right.

However, you had never thought of anything beyond that. Not only were you unsure about how old he was—he could be twice your age, for Archons’s sakes—he was also your dad’s business associate, and you weren’t sure how your dad would feel about that, though you supposed you’d find out soon.

“Uh,” your dad stumbled over his own words, “Lord Pantalone... are you sure you want to, uh, discuss such matters with Y/N present?”

“Why, of course, F/N,” Pantalone replied, completely nonchalant. Your eyes darted between him and your father, the two of them wearing completely opposite expressions.

“Uhh,” your dad gibbered awkwardly, “are you sure you want to discuss such matters with me present?” You could see that he, too, was looking back and forth at the both of you in a futile attempt to grasp the situation. He was presumably contemplating the prospect of anything having happened between the two of you. The thought alone was enough to fluster you, and you were just thinking of how to explain that no, you were not and had not been sleeping with his business partner, when Pantalone spoke again.

“Oh, Archons, no, it’s nothing like that, please don’t misunderstand!” he exclaimed, his statement sending you into a brand new state of confusion. “I merely want your daughter to spy on Dottore.”

“I’m sorry, what?” you interjected, evident disbelief in your voice. You didn’t need to look at your dad to know he was even more disturbed than you, considering how he was at a loss for words.

“You see, it has recently come to my attention that Dottore is plotting something rather unfavourable to the Tsaritsa,” Pantalone elaborated, though you weren’t sure whether his explanation was helping or worsening the situation. “As a Harbinger, it is my duty to ensure her safety, and as Dottore’s closest associate, I’m in a most advantageous position to do so. Alas, I am but one man, so some assistance would be incredibly helpful.”

While the initial misconception was already difficult to process, the clarification was even more incomprehensible. You were stunned, unable to formulate any coherent thoughts until your dad managed to snap out of his stupor.

“You want my daughter to spy on Il Dottore? Forgive me, Lord Pantalone, but are you daft? How the hell is she supposed to do that? She is a child!” Despite its irrelevance to the situation, you couldn’t help a spark of irritation rising up at his words. You scowled, but put your annoyance aside for now, for there were more pressing matters at hand. Your father was becoming agitated, so you made an attempt to assuage the tension.

“...It’s fine,” you said, straightening up as you turned towards the Harbinger. “Pantalone, could you please elaborate?”

“Well, you see, I need someone whom I know and trust, that Dottore doesn’t know, but can come to trust,” he asserted. “I need someone new, unassuming, but not entirely unfamiliar. Someone who can keep a secret and find a secret. Who better than the daughter of the magnificent F/N?”

From an outside perspective, it was easy to make the assumption that you were knowingly assisting your father in keeping his clandestine activities concealed. Most people likely thought that, but it’d be incorrect.

Truthfully, your role in your father’s work was limited to greeting associates and serving them tea, along with any freshly baked goods you had made. Of course, you knew that your father wasn’t the most noble of men, considering his clientele—the Harbinger on your sofa being a perfect example—but that was the extent of your knowledge, and you preferred to keep it that way. You knew it made you apathetically recreant, but it was much easier to stay unaware and turn a blind eye to his questionable doings. You would keep yourself uninvolved in his business, hiding under your security blanket of willful ignorance.

The exact shelter that Pantalone was trying to coax you out of.

“Well, okay, sure, but—” your dad tried to protest.

“—And as a token of my gratitude,” Pantalone furthered,

“I would bring M/N back to life.”

next chapter soon... any interactions are appreciated (´･ω･`) thank you very much for supporting my work! ♡

[k1ttzly]

Fatui Dating Hc!

Fatui Harbingers in this:

Capitano, Dottore, Columbina, Arlecchino!

Capitano

• For one you probably have to be strong

Enough to defend yourself.

• Depending on if you are in the Fatui or not alot of things change.

•If you were in the Fatui he would always remain professional whenever you two work and wouldn’t treat you much different than other fatui

•if you weren’t in the fatui he would never tell you about his ‘Job’. Wanting to shield you from his co—workers.

•he is very gentle too, at home he usually has a hand on your lower back.

•Soft kisses!!! And a huge cuddler in bed.

•not strong on PDA

Dottore

• Also depends if you work as a fatui or not!

•if you do, you bet he WILL convince not just the Tsaritsa but also the one you work with to let you work under him instead.

• He also isnt big on PDA but will always have you close.

•also quite possessive!

•He will tell you ALL about the fatui and his own work, especially the one he doesnt like.

•He wont hurt you physically but will try to bend you mentally. But not so until you are completely independent on him. Because he is scared he will get even more attached.

• He loves to say his theories about certain things and would adore if you try and understand the human body ect. more.

•Will definitely make you immortal.

Btw You definitely saw him experiment on scaramouche and collei because he would love you to watch him destroy other people because that just shows how much he can truly bend you how he wants but isnt.

Columbina

• woman.

• Even if you are not in the fatui she will bring you with her!

• she does like PDA but more in a caressing and small little kisses way

• She is a bit of a sadist, scaring you for her own enjoyment! She loves to see you tremble.

• Hum along with her and she will smile even brighter.

•loves it when you give your own little ideas even if she wont use them!

[fangdokja-anon]

Hahaha! 🤣 your reaction to dottore aka the doctor and your about me posts makes me think you are not just online simp but also a hardcore masochist irl. By the way how did you get invested in yandere content? Like what was your first or most memorable encounter with it?

♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams. ; ♡ WC. 1,996 (contains video game spoilers)

Ah, so we’re calling me out this early? On my side blog no less? Bold move, Anon.

Let’s get a few things straight: I am not an online simp. If I were, you’d see me in the trenches of fandom spaces, writing dissertations on characters, engaging in debates, and swooning over every little thing they do. I don’t do that. I don’t simp.

I compare.

Because at the end of the day, I’m not fawning over fictional men—I’m simply coping. My husband won’t let me talk about him, so I settle for characters that remind me of him. That’s not simping, that’s making do with the resources available. And if certain fictional men share the same energy, demeanor, or sheer presence as my husband? Then naturally, I gravitate toward them. Not because I worship them, but because they remind me of him.

Now, onto the masochism comment. Do you think I write horror purely for the fear factor? For the thrill of it? Because if so, you’re mistaken. I write horror because it’s an intimate genre—it forces confrontation with the things most would rather avoid. It dissects, exposes, and breaks apart. It’s a genre of control and loss of control. And if I happen to enjoy that process, if I find something oddly compelling about the brutality of it all—

That being said, there is a line. There are characters that cross it. Dottore? Manageable. Gilgamesh? Handleable. But some characters? Some of them make me feel too much. And I don’t like feeling too much. I’d rather shoot them on sight than deal with the psychological damage they would inevitably cause. Not because they’re bad characters, but because their existence is disruptive.

Dottore, though? That man could dissect me, break me down to my component parts, run inhumane experiments on me, and I would thank him. He could reduce me to nothing, and I’d accept it. There’s no logic behind it, no deeper reasoning—just the simple, unavoidable truth:

Some people you kill on sight.

Others, you let ruin you.

Dottore falls into the latter category.

Now, STORY TIME (fangdokja lore).

Would you believe me if I said I hated yanderes before? And I don’t mean casual dislike—I mean full-on disgust. I found them creepy, mentally unstable, and fundamentally stupid. The idea that someone could revolve their entire existence around another person? That they could need someone so desperately that their sense of self dissolved into obsession? That was pathetic. It was unhealthy, it was irrational, and it was a complete rejection of self-sufficiency.

That was me as a kid.

Back then, I believed in fairy tales. I genuinely thought love was about mutual growth—about two people supporting each other in their careers, their personal lives, and their families. About building something together, side by side. The idea of romance being anything else—something consuming, something destructive, something one-sided—was outright repulsive to me.

Then I saw clips of Yuno Gasai. Instant NOPE.

Fast forward to my teenage years, aka the black-clothes-all-day, goth-adjacent-but-mostly-emo, people-are-annoying-so-I’ll-just-watch-horror era. Relationships were still stupid to me. The concept of needing someone for emotional validation? Idiotic. The idea of depending on someone for your reason to exist? Even worse. It all seemed pointless.

Then came horror.

I was already neck-deep in the genre by this point because, well, I hated everything and everyone. Horror was an easy escape—something darker, something honest. And naturally, when you spend enough time in horror, you will encounter yanderes. It’s inevitable.

Enter the golden age of Wattpad—the no monetization, anything-goes, unfiltered chaos era. I was already secretly reading fanfics at this point (because, for some reason, that was the one thing I was embarrassed about). I mostly read fluff—anything smut-adjacent was straight-up disgusting to me. I didn’t get it. At all.

Which makes sense.

Because at that point in my life, I had zero knowledge about sex. Like, I knew the technicalities—I knew the reproductive system, I understood the biological mechanics—but that was it. No porn, no hentai, no exposure to anything explicitly sexual. To me, "sex" meant literally sleeping next to someone. That’s what I was taught. And I never questioned it because I didn’t care. School was my priority—study, work, repeat. Learn, apply, profit. Simple.

Then I came across the term yandere.

I didn’t know what it meant. And when I read my first yandere fic? I was disgusted. Completely put off. It was one of those low-quality Wattpad dumpster fire stories, so that didn’t help, but the concept itself? The obsession? The violence? The sheer lack of logic? I hated it.

And yet, somehow, that wasn’t the end of the story.

✦✧✦✧

Fast forward a year.

At this point, I’d been playing video games my entire life, so naturally, I eventually stumbled into visual novels. And from there, it was only a matter of time before I ran into otome games.

And one of the most well-known otome games—one of the classics, the game that served as many people's introduction to yanderes—

—was Amnesia: Memories.

Guess whose route I hated the most?

Toma.

I was a Shin and Kent kind of player. Shin especially—he had the right balance of edge and depth (along with plot) that made him actually interesting. Even Ikki had his charm. They all had their faults, but at the end of the day, their routes were wholesome in comparison.

Also, Orion? Loved him.

Ukyo? Insane, sure, but he still had a genuinely good side. He made sense within the narrative, and at the very least, there was an internal logic to him.

But Toma?

Toma made me angry.

The moment he caged me, I was done. The moment he started spewing nonsense about trusting him while literally locking me up, I was sitting there, completely baffled, wondering:

"I thought this was a romance story—WHAT IS HAPPENING?!"

At the time, I didn’t even know what a yandere was. All I knew was that whatever archetype Toma was supposed to be? I hated it.

I hated him.

I hated all of them.

He was a creepy, possessive piece of garbage that I would not go near with a ten-foot pole. My entire reaction boiled down to one word:

CREEP.

And yet—do you see the irony in all of this?

I never got into yanderes romantically. Not back then. Not even close. It was impossible for me to feel anything for them. But fanfic-wise? I still found myself reading yandere content occasionally. Not because I was interested in the romance—but because of the horror.

Even then, I refused to engage with yanderes as a romantic concept, but as a horror concept? That was different. That was something I could respect. And admittedly? Even back then, there was one thing about yanderes that I could appreciate—loyalty.

No cheating. No exes they still care about. No third parties they’d even consider entertaining. A real yandere’s world revolves only around his darling. And that? That was at least logically sound. Even at my most yandere-averse, I could respect that much.

✦✧✦✧

But.

There was one character. One single character who changed everything. And to this day, I hate him for it.

I was minding my own business, peacefully gaming, completely unprepared for the irreversible shift about to occur in my perception of yanderes. And the man responsible?

Yuuya Kizami from Corpse Party.

…Which, in hindsight, says a lot about me. But let’s not unpack that right now.

At first glance, I liked him. Appearance-wise, attitude-wise, he seemed like a solid character. A bit of a loner, sure, a little blunt, maybe a little rough around the edges—but a reliable older brother figure. A nice guy, even.

And I was so, so wrong.

The moment his real nature was revealed—his yandere nature—I felt pure, visceral disgust. Immediate, instinctive NOPE. He went from a character I liked to a character that made my skin crawl.

…And yet.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a tiny, traitorous thought formed:

"Wait… am I into this?"

And then:

"…Shiz. This is so unhealthy."

The cognitive dissonance was real. I was horrified, repulsed—and yet, somewhere in all that, something had shifted. I refused to acknowledge it, though. When he died, I cheered. I thought, “See? No problem. I didn’t like him. No big deal. Moving on.”

But I did not move on.

Because without realizing it, I started seeking out more yandere content. Not actively at first. Just… reading one more fic here. Clicking on one more story there. It wasn’t that deep. Just casual curiosity.

Right?

…Right.

✦✧✦✧

Fast forward a few years. The emo phase faded (mostly). I was still goth-adjacent, but I wasn’t walking around exuding pure, unfiltered misanthropy anymore. Just a chill, hyperfocused workaholic with a hardcore "study, grind, succeed" mentality.

Then came the Undertale phase.

Yes. I am admitting it. I was one of those people. Part of the squad that made Toby Fox publicly say, “Some of you concern me.”

And you know what? I do not care.

Because the Undertale fanfics? They were insane. Not just insane—they were PEAK. Some of the most unhinged, soul-crushing, haunting stories I’ve ever read came from that fandom. To this day, my favorite one-shot fanfic of all time—of all time—is an Undertale fanfic.

And guess what?

It’s a yandere fic.

A yandere Sans fic, to be exact.

Yes, I am recommending this fic. No, I do not care if it raises concerns. This author wrote two stories total, and yet that one fic was so peak that it permanently burned itself into my memory. (Also, very Dust Sans-coded, which explains a lot.)

Now, I should clarify—before my husband, I never cared about physical appearances. Ever. What mattered to me was lore. Depth. The immaculate storytelling. That’s what made a character interesting. That’s what made me invested.

So who did I end up simping for?

…Ah.

First, it was Sans. And then—then the rabbit hole opened.

Cue my descent into Horror Sans and Dust Sans territory.

And let me tell you something: Horror Sans fanfics were a whole other breed.

Unrequited love? Check.

Soulmate AU with horror elements? Check.

Absolute emotional devastation? Check, check, and check.

And Dust Sans? Oh, Dust Sans was a different level of unhinged. Extremely mentally unstable. Psychopathic. A relentless killing machine consumed by his own broken psyche.

…And looking back at it now?

Yeah. That really should’ve told me something about my tastes.

I cry.

✦✧✦✧

Now that I really sit down and think about it...

Have I always been attracted to killers?

Because looking at my favorite horror tropes—the ones I actively enjoy writing—the pattern is very clear.

And yet, I never went through the typical killer-simp pipeline.

I never got into Creepypasta. Never had a FNAF phase. Sure, I know the lore (because obviously, who doesn’t at this point?), but the gameplay never interested me. And as for the mainstream horror icons—the ones everyone else was thirsting over? They didn’t do it for me.

But despite all that, somehow, I still ended up here.

And I never noticed.

Looking back now? It’s kind of hilarious.

It started small. A little intrigue here. A fascination there. Then came the red flags. And before I knew it, we were way past the point of concern.

We had gone full BLACK FLAG territory.

Blacker than pirate flags. Blacker than void itself.

The mental shift went from:

"Oh, he’s a little intense."

To:

"Okay, this guy’s got issues, but he’s interesting."

To:

"Aww, he wants to torture and murder me? That’s so sweet."

And that’s when I knew. There was no coming back.

But if you want to know the number one contributor to everything—every single twist, every turn, every single factor that solidified my fate—

It’s my husband.

And I am not opening that can of worms.

Ever.

All you need to know is that I have been cursed and corrupted by that cunning, possessive, terrifyingly loving man.

I love him.

Truly.

That’s all you need to know.

[fatuismooches]

Dottore with an art-centred lover !! Painting, poetry, singing, you name it, but ofc you can’t practice a lot because it’s not accepted in the akademiya. Getting close to Zandik and he learns of all your hobbies and in the beginning he (of course) looks down on them. But in time he grows to appreciate all the poetry and songs toy write for him …

(Angst) but now that you’re so sick…there’s no way you can practice all your art. So you’re left to wallow in your uselessness while prime rereads that book of poetry you wrote him. And he realizes how much he missed your art <3

It was no secret that Akademiya looked down on the arts, and consequently, that thinking had negatively seeped deep into Sumerian society's views on artistic expression. Therefore your love for the arts was only allowed to linger while you were a kid before it was quickly squashed by those around you. Still, you continued to practice in secret with critters and strange hat-wearing creatures in the forest, who always complimented your art. There were times you sneak out to the Grand Bazaar, but seeing how often the Akademiya hassles the poor performers, you had to limit your visits.

And so, your secret hobby followed you to the Akademiya. In the beginning, it was easy to put your mind to paper, considering your roommate, Zandik, was either not home, or simply did not spare a glance at what you were doing. But as time continued to go by, you realized that in a way, you two were more similar than you thought - both shunned for things people couldn't understand. Of course, eventually, Zandik got curious enough to pry into what you spent your time doing, and although his reaction wasn't surprising, it was still disheartening.

"You have an intricate mind that can keep up with me, but you'd rather spend your time doing such pointless things. I don't understand," his praise turned into words you were familiar with.

"Have you ever considered this is why I am able to understand you? Zandik... I would appreciate it if you could try to do the same for me."

It was a tough road ahead for Zandik, but he loved you too much not to at least take up your request. And so he bore witness to your labor of love, staying silent most of the time. Occasionally you asked for his opinions or thoughts, but nothing he had was really helpful, but you appreciated the effort nonetheless. He thinks you just wanted to probe his brain. After a while, you start reading your poetry out loud to Zandik.

Unfortunately, he doesn't catch on to the fact the poems and songs are about him until about your dozenth one in, blushing at how skillfully you manage to delicately weave such loving words about him. Or when he opens his notebook to a drawing of you two, distracting him from his work for a little bit (an extreme feat!) And on days he can't sleep, you hum a little tune for him, soothing his aching head. From then on, he understands, and not a word of his criticism was ever heard again, rather, even gruff encouragement is offered when you're stuck.

But now even his sweet words are rendered useless in the face of your illness. All those things you love to create - your body and mind simply won't allow you most of the time, no matter how much you try. Dottore can only sigh when he finds you ripped up all your failed attempts at your art, and carefully tape them back together to store with his collection.

He needs to make sure you have a good day soon. Maybe if he rereads your book of poetry for the one hundredth and sixty-seventh time, he could come up with his own little thing and surprise you.

[blitzyn]

rookie mistake

dottore x m!reader

Request: Requests are open right? I hope so 🤞 Would I be able to ask for a sub!(male/amab)reader X dom!dottore? With some blackmail and coercion, preferably leaning towards dubious consent but I’m am a-ok with non-con elements, with a fatui/subordinate reader? If you could add in a small scene of him continuing while talking with someone outside the door that’s be awesome 😎 - Anonymous

Synopsis: You accidentally invade Dottore's office in search of intel.

a/n -> yall i know that i said i was on the fence about writing for genshin, but it was dottore and i love him plus i really liked this idea despite it having collected dust in my inbox for decades. whoever requested this: i love your mind and im so sorry it took me forever to decide to write this!! but just a reminder to whoever sees this, i will not be writing for fontaine unless stated otherwise!!

wc -> 3.6k

cw -> non-con, blackmail, coercion, blowjob, deepthroat, literally getting caught, spit as lube, anal fingering, anal sex, standing doggy position, fatuus/infiltrator reader, guys he calls you a rat because you're a spy, not beta read

Your job was straightforward. But it was also one of the most grueling missions you've ever been assigned to.

With your status as an elite spy, you were tasked with infiltrating the Fatui as one of their ranks to gather information regarding the locations and purposes of specific forts to prevent potential attacks and keep the organization from acquiring knowledge valuable to their cause.

There was absolutely no room for error, lest you get caught and pay for that mistake with your life.

Fortunately enough, the mask everyone was required to wear (with the exception of the Harbingers) concealed your identity, allowing you to execute your orders with relative ease. Of course, it wasn't completely simple. You had to fight your way up the ranks in order to even get a hint of the plan from your superiors, which took years to even get recognized for your efforts.

Several times have you had to go against your moral compass. Several times, you doubted your abilities and questioned if you were even making a dent in the Fatui's plans. Although, when you heard a faint argument due to a lack of resources, you knew you were on the right track.

But one day, you noticed that an agent's office door was left unlocked. There was no one in the hallways, and not a soul knew that you had stolen an important document that recorded data for some valuable supply that you didn't care enough to read about.

Making sure you tucked the paper deep inside your coat pocket, you strained your ears to ensure you were alone before taking the risk and entering the isolated office. It looked like your standard room. Boring, silent, and strangely barren of many decorations. You took a moment to inspect the area before deciding to take a step forward when your blood suddenly ran cold.

"I don't use this office very often," a voice said from behind you. You just about jumped out of your skin, swiveling your head to the person behind you. It took you a moment to put a face to the name you'd heard so many times before, but when you did, you quickly regretted your decision to search for any additional information. "But even so, don't you think it's rude to invade someone's personal space?"

You froze, unable to find the right words. Nothing could explain why you were currently snooping around in an office that wasn't yours—much, much less when it belonged to the Second of the Eleven Harbingers.

You inwardly cursed your naive eagerness to do more than you were asked. Your years of experience as a spy should've kept you from making such a rookie mistake, and now all your work was going down the drain.

The two of you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, fighting the urge to fidget at the overwhelming feeling of his gaze on you, analyzing your appearance. He broke the silence with a hum, neither intrigued nor entirely disappointed.

"I have heard others spread rumors of a mole within our ranks but thought nothing more of their words as an excuse for their inability to secure our resources," Dottore mused, raising a hand to his chin. "I assume that the mole is you?"

You couldn't bring yourself to reply. Your throat was dry, and your stomach twisted into knots. Not that he cared.

"I must applaud your efforts," he said, a slight smirk decorating his pale face. "Not many people evade our eyes so easily, and for as long as you have."

"But, a word of advice—" He reached into his pocket, pulling out a familiar device. He presented it to you, watching in amusement when you suddenly patted yourself down before looking back up towards him. It was the device you used to contact your organization. "—Make sure you clean up after yourself. It's impolite to leave your items lying around."

You don't remember dropping it or forgetting it somewhere. But that didn't matter anymore. You were stuck in the present with no way of getting out of this situation.

He flipped the device over, dully inspecting it as he continued talking. "After going through your data log, it wasn't hard figuring out what you were going for next. While this normally wouldn't spark any interest in me, this resource just so happens to be vital in my current experiment, and I can't have you tampering with my results."

He walked forward, stopping just a few feet in front of you. He was close enough for you to inhale his scent of sterile rubbing alcohol and metal. It made your nose burn as you watched him intently, tensing and fighting the urge to back away out of fear of angering him somehow. The document in your pocket felt unusually heavy.

"Although, I didn't expect such a seasoned spy like yourself to make such an amateur move," he hummed, ignoring your need for personal space to pull your mask off. And you were helpless against it all. "[Name] [L.Name], is it? Why don't you read the paper you have right now?"

That's when you knew you fucked up big time.

With a shaky hand, you reached into your coat pocket to pull out the report, unfolding it only to realize that it wasn't a report at all. It was a blank piece of paper. But you could've sworn there was writing on it when you grabbed it earlier!

He could see the confusion on your face clear as day as a laugh left his lips, tapping a rolled-up piece of parchment on the tip of your nose to regain your attention. "I believe this is what you're after." With a flick of his wrist, he unfurled the paper that contained everything you needed.

"What—" you gasped, briefly staring at your paper before looking back up.

"It's a shame you didn't think to check the ink before you took it," he said, faux disappointment laced in his voice before it reverted back to its normal tone just as fast. "The ink 'disappears' when subjected to anything higher than room temperature. When you put it in your pocket, your body heat, coupled with the insulation from your coat, affected the writing and turned it invisible."

Fuck.

He planned this out.

You swallowed nervously, taking a deep inhale to steel your nerves, even when it didn't do much to help you. "How... how long have you known?" you couldn't help but ask.

"Not long, really," Dottore casually replied, as if he didn't hold your entire life in the palm of his hand. "I caught you just in time."

"Now," he said with a voice that demanded your attention. Not that he needed to try, anyway. His very presence was almost impossible to ignore. "I'm willing to offer you two options. One, I hand this device over to one of my lovely agents and have them torture you for answers then promptly dispose of you. Or, two—" He waved the communicator in the air, taunting you. "—I have you make it up to me."

It was obvious which one you'd be more tempted to accept, but you knew that accepting an offer such as this from Dottore, of all people, was not a good idea. He knows he has you right where he wants you.

"The second one. I... I'll make it up to you." The words tasted like acid as you forced them out, watching a pleased smirk rise on his face.

"Good," he muttered mostly to himself. Leisurely, he turned around and walked towards the door, shutting it before refocusing back on you.

"Get on your knees," he ordered, placing his hands behind his back as he waited for you to move. He observed silently as you obeyed, staring at the floor in shame. "Crawl to me."

He sighed impatiently upon seeing the conflicted and perplexed expression on your face. "You want to be a rat so badly, don't you? So get down and crawl to me like one."

You were given no choice but to comply despite the absurdity of his request. Hanging your head, you inched forward as the cold, wooden floors painfully dug into your knees, stopping once the sight of his boots came into view. You held back a flinch when you heard the fabric of his clothes rustle as he leaned down to lift your head up by your hair, forcing you to your knees.

Instantly, your eyes zeroed in on the prominent bulge in Dottore's pants, making you painfully aware of what he wanted you to do next. With a suspiciously gentle tug, he brought you slightly closer to him. You could tell he was getting impatient.

"Well?" He questioned, a frown gracing his features. "You don't need instructions. Go on."

You glanced up at him with blatant disgust in your eyes before raising your hands to undo his pants and reveal his semi-hard cock. You suppressed a grimace as you held it in your hand, steeling your nerves just enough to be able to lick a stripe down the side. Flattening your tongue, you moved back up to take the tip in your mouth, letting your saliva slip past the corners of your lips to lubricate the rest of his dick.

You half-assed it all, not bothering to take it all the way down or, at the very least, use your tongue. However, Dottore caught on quick enough with an annoyed sigh. You supposed you shouldn't have been surprised when he tangled his fingers into your hair and shoved you down, but you were caught off guard either way.

You were embarrassed to hear a loud gag sound from you, choking and sputtering on his cock whenever the tip of it slid down your throat. You dug your nails into his thighs when he suddenly shifted and pressed the sole of his boot onto your dick, letting out a muffled cry that only served to please him. He made no move to rub it against you, simply keeping it firmly on your crotch—to keep you in line, you assumed.

You squirmed, internally cringing at the feeling of your drool seeping out the corners of your lips. Fluttering your eyes shut, you tried to focus on your breathing. In and out, in and out, in and—

"Don't look away," he said, refusing to give you a moment of respite, shoving his cock all the way inside your mouth, harshly tugging on your hair at the same time. He fucked your face, ignoring your sounds of protest as he battered your throat. He laughed at your struggle, entertained with the way your tears gathered at your lash line.

"Awh, is this too much for you?" He taunted, shifting his hand to the back of your head to push you down to the base. He sighed contentedly at the feeling of your throat tightening and spasming around him, gently rocking his hips. "You should've thought that through before you accepted the job."

With a painful tug, he pulled you off of his cock. A trail of saliva connected you to him, which you quickly broke when you turned your head to cough into your elbow. He ordered you to get up, unwilling to wait a second before he hauled you up by your arm impatiently. He effortlessly moved your body, pressing your cheek against the wooden door as he pushed on your back, forcing it to arch.

Deeming your position acceptable, he tucked his fingers underneath the waistband of your pants to yank them down to your knees. Your breath hitched at the sudden change in temperature, refusing to lean back and seek any warmth from Dottore.

With one hand on your hip, the other strayed toward your ass, spreading it to inspect your hole. It took effort to keep yourself from fidgeting under his gaze, and you opened your mouth in a daring attempt to get him to hurry up when he suddenly spat on your hole, shoving two fingers inside soon after.

You let out a grunt, clawing at the door he had you lean against. It was an uncomfortably foreign sensation but you were in no position to struggle. A burning sensation emanated from your hole as his fingers forced their way inside, wasting no time to move in a scissoring motion. They brushed against a spot that sent sparks up your spine every so often, taunting you wordlessly.

"You're enjoying this," Dottore said, not as a question or comment, but as a statement. And the worst thing was, he was right. No matter how much your mind made you hate it, your body told a different tale.

You let out a displeased sigh, pressing your forehead against the cold door, not daring to make your words known. Not that he minded. He enjoyed forcing your reactions out of you just as much as having them given to him without a fight.

He made it known with a jab to your prostate, sending a shock up and down your spine so suddenly it nearly made your knees buckle. That was all he gave you before abruptly pulling away, leaving you uncomfortably empty until the quiet ptuh! sound of him spitting on his cock filled your ears.

Fuck. This was actually happening. And you had no way out.

In a last ditch effort to maintain your dignity, you tried to push yourself off of the door but was quickly pressed—borderline slammed—back down with a hand to the back of your neck.

"I don't think you'll enjoy the alternative," he said, the undertones of irritation and impatience evident in his voice. He squeezed the sides of your neck hard enough to ensure your compliance, nearly scowling when you shifted in place. "So be still and behave like a good little thing."

Without missing a beat, he lined the tip of his cock up against your slick asshole and pushed his way inside, forcing a strained cry from your throat. He made sure it hurt, purposefully moving slowly to make you feel every inch and vein.

You whimpered, trying to breathe and calm yourself down. The stretch fucking hurt and you instinctively shifted your hips forward in a futile attempt to ease the pain when Dottore held your hips to yank you back, shoving the last few inches inside you.

You let out a strangled groan, biting your lower lip to stifle your noises as searing pain tore through you. You breathed heavily through your nose, feeling the weight of disgust settle in your chest when you heard him sigh in satisfaction at how tight you were. You winced when he pulled out slowly, only for him to slam back inside with a loud slap.

You jolted, just about ramming your head against the door in surprise. You grit your teeth and pressed a hand against it as the wood audibly creaked and groaned under your weight when he began to move. You tensed upon hearing faint voices beyond the door, peering back over your shoulder in a pathetic attempt to get him to stop.

"W—Wait," you muttered, breath hitching. "There's someone outside...!"

"Then I suppose you're just going to have to be quiet," he replied with an upward quirk to his lips before angling himself in a way that made his cock press up against you just right. You were disgusted to feel heat beginning to pool in your gut, forcing moans past your lips no matter how hard you tried to stop them. You covered your mouth with a hand as you listened to the noises approach. Dottore was (somewhat) merciful enough to press his pelvis against your ass, though that didn't stop him from rocking his hips to cruelly grind his cock into your prostate.

"Dottore?" It took you a moment to process the voice as electricity shot up and down your spine, trying your damn best to stifle your whimpers. "Are you in there?"

It's Pantalone, you recognize.

"Yes. Is there something you need from me?" Dottore replied, shifting his hold on you to start shallowly thrusting. You squeezed your eyes shut, listening to the painfully loud squelching.

"Not at the moment. I thought I heard something... else," Pantalone hummed with a knowing tone, sending a wave of mortification through your body.

"Then if that is all, I'd prefer it if you left," Dottore said, his amusement clear as day in his voice. He didn't even try to hide it as he gave you a punishing thrust, the resounding slap mixing in with your moan as it echoed off the walls. "I'm busy."

A laugh came from behind the door. "Very well. I'll leave you to it."

Dottore refused to wait for him to leave when he started again, this time fucking you so hard you were convinced there'd be a bruise. His fingers dug into your skin, yanking you back in time with his thrusts.

Your legs shook and you bit your lip until you bled, but it hardly did a thing to silence you.

"Look at you," Dottore mused, reaching around to hold your aching cock in his hand. He gave it a squeeze before jerking off the top half, focusing on the tip. "You were never meant to be a spy. You'd be so much better off as my little pet, wouldn't you agree?"

You let out a loud moan, instinctively looking down. You didn't even realize you were so hard, but as you watched the head of your cock drool precum onto the ground, everything felt twice as intense.

"N—No!" You choked out, clawing desperately at the creaking door. "I'll never—I'll never be your pet!"

"No?" Dottore laughed, sounding so unbothered it sent a spike of fear through you, reminding you of just how fucked you were. Swiftly, he swiped his fingers over the tip of your cock before bringing his hand up to push them into your mouth, making you taste your precum. With the palm of his hand, he pressed it against your chin to force your head back.

You let out a groan, feeling the strain on your upper back and neck as you stared at him with fear and disgust.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice," he reminded, pulling out the communicator with his other hand. He slightly shook it, taunting you. "Don't you remember that actions have consequences?"

He pocketed the device as he slid his hand away from your mouth to bring it to the back of your neck, holding it tightly as he harshly pressed you against the cold wood. The side of your face ached, but, much to your horror, the pain only went straight to your cock.

"So just stand there and enjoy it," he said with a groan, his dick pulsing rhythmically as he savored the sensation of your walls clamping tightly around him. "Don't fight how much you like this."

"I don-" Just then, he rammed his cock into your prostate over and over, reducing you into a babbling mess that only proved his point.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears, ashamed that you loved the feeling of him so deep inside you, but you hated that it was him fucking you. You could feel the heat in your stomach intensify with each harsh thrust, feel the way your balls tightened in a way you knew you couldn't stop.

"Please..." you whimpered, weak against the wet slapping sounds that filled the office. "I don't want to...!"

You came with a whorish moan, arching your back as your cock spilled cum onto the floor. You could hear the sound of Dottore's laugh through the haze of your orgasm as sparks coursed through your veins, knees nearly buckling.

"Yes you do," he groaned, voice slightly strained. You could faintly hear his labored breathing the closer he got to his own orgasm, noticing the way his movements grew sloppier and weaker. He reached around again, jerking you off despite the lurking overstimulation.

You tightened, sending him right over the edge as he slammed his cock inside you a final time, pressing himself flush against your ass as he came. It was uncomfortably warm as he throbbed in time with each spurt, savoring the way you practically tried to milk him dry.

But he didn't let it last long as he pulled out with a satisfied sigh, enjoying the sight of you, shaky and vulnerable, before him. He graciously gave you a moment before commanding you to fix yourself, stepping back to adjust his own appearance.

"Now," he said, sternly, like he didn't just fuck you within a damn inch of your life. "Why don't you send a message to your organization stating that you're not going back."

He handed you the communicator with a smug smirk, relishing in your distress. Taking in a deep breath to steel your nerves, you accepted the device, reluctantly typing in a message before returning it back to him with regret written on your face.

"Oh, don't look so upset," he pouted, pocketing the device. You weren't sure when you'd see it again. "It'll be easier for you if you cooperate."

He made his way past you, opening the door, sending shivers down your spine at the sudden chill. "But right now, you have a lot of work to do."

cross-posted on ao3

[sillyghostwordvomit]

Dottore x reader HC (the nurse)

The Doctor x The nurse 

You are his assistant, dubbing the title ‘nurse’ to match his

I’ve seen a lot of things where this is no in between of Dottore being obsessed with you or he tolerates you

In this case you start off as tolerable and as you remain loyal while not messing up a lot of his experiments he starts to see your use 

Then BAM! He’s obsessed 

At first as a regular assistant a few centuries before the main timeline you bounce between segments as an assistant 

But soon youre around different ones less and less until it’s only Prime

Eventually Dottore learns you, your habits, your mannerisms, literally whatever he can while in your presence 

Seeing only Dottore for weeks because of long extensive projects (and many excuses he will make up to keep you near) 

Feelings are developed, on your end. He has had feelings but refuses to acknowledge them 

For now nothing changes between you two 

Then he starts experimenting on you in small ways, asking to test mysterious serums that are as harmless as can be coming from the doctor. To test your loyalty of course 

It’s to see how far you’ll go for him.

He wants to see how far your feelings of love loyalty will go

After this he sees how insane you are. No self perseveration at all! What if that was poison??? 

Well at least you guys match each others freak (insanity) 

It’s not a that big of a surprise to him, he picked up on small hints of this  when he “studied” your habits 

In which it was studying, learning you. But he also watched you like a hawk

Did that extend past the workplace?  Guess we’ll never know 

Around this time your workload lessens and it’s more of tidying up his office/laboratory  !

This is when you earn the title of “The Nurse” 

But… he’ll outlive you! He has already done so many modifications to himself 

Haha dont worry 

Seeing as you guys match each others freak you got together sometime after the serum thing ! 

And as long as you trust him he’ll make sure you live forever too! 

Yea not really. He did some things to make you reliant on him during this process 

Something like a fine tuning every now and then 

It’s quite an intimate deal as well. It’s not like you can’t miss a fine tuning! 

After all it messes with your heart functions 

Well, Dottore is really happy, being able to have his precious assistant around him at all times ! Like at meals, during regular experimentation and projects, at his place…. His room, the bed, hell even a bath! 

Whatever y’all do, its usually together, unless he gets super fixated on a project 

After centuries together you both earn quite the reputation, a mad Doctor and his dear assistant who is equally as mad  as him. 

Quite the formidable force

Even with a title you are not a harbinger in any way, however depending on certain things you are quite powerful and can hold your own