#il dottore x female reader

[boundinparchment]

Blasphemous Rumors - II

“Marry me.” He said it with such blasé that you weren’t sure you heard him correctly. Silence surrounded the two of you and he leaned down and tilted his head, watching you like a specimen under a microscope. “Just for a year. A marriage of convenience. Consider it nothing more than a harmless experiment for the sake of curiosity.” Il Dottore/Female reader with established personality. Marriage of convenience. Slow burn. Semi-enemies to lovers. Available on AO3 here. Likes, reblog, and comments appreciated.

“Marry me.”

Your head snapped up from the ledger, a finger sliding across the paper to hold your place.  Just when you were piecing something together, too.  

“I’m sorry, Lord Harbinger?” 

Did Dottore just…demand you marry him?

He said it with such blasé that you weren’t certain you heard him correctly.  Silence surrounded the two of you in your office but several pairs of eyes tried and failed not to stare.  Your coworkers tried hard and failed to look busy, shuffling papers and talking only low enough to give the illusion that they were minding their own business.

No, you had heard exactly right.  And so had everyone else.

Panic seared through you, turning your blood to ice.  Did Lord Pantalone know all along about you passing off information and had asked Lord Dottore to finish you off?  The Second Harbinger was known for his…eccentricities, after all, but…proposing to random members of staff…

He was dead serious and annoyed at your question, judging from the thin line of his mouth.  He leaned down and tilted his head, watching you like a specimen under a microscope.

Dottore pressed his hands flat against the surface of your desk and came closer still, closer than he’d ever been in any capacity previously.  You could smell the lingering scent of disinfectant along with mint and something muskier, his mask almost stabbing your nose.

What the actual fuck was he doing?

“Just for a year,” he clarified at last, voice low enough for only you to hear.  “A marriage of convenience.  Consider it nothing more than a harmless experiment for the sake of curiosity.”

Marriage wasn’t exactly something to simply spring on a person.  For a Harbinger, you imagined that, if it ever happened, it was strategic and political.  Lord Dottore was potentially not even at liberty to offer his hand in marriage to begin with and therefore…

“Are you well, sir?”

“Perfectly.”

“Then you should know that this is neither the time nor the place for such a thing.  You are causing a scene.”

The very air between you seemed to have dropped several degrees and you heard even less chatter from the surrounding offices as the words left your lips.  By now, everyone was listening.  You held little doubt that Lord Pantalone himself had been informed and was somewhere in the main lobby, watching the entire affair like an act of an opera.

Would you end up like your predecessor, your guts splattered across the carpet?  Remembered as the one who refused to answer the Second Harbinger’s demands?

Lord Dottore let out a breath through his nose but straightened to his full height, putting the usual professional distance between you again.  If he were anyone else, the anxiety that sat deep in your chest, clawing at your throat, would have relented.  He pulled his arms behind his back, the feathers of the bird mantle across his shoulders shuddering with the motion.

“I see.  Then I shall return when your work is done for the day.  In the meanwhile, consider it.  Thank you for your usual diligence.”

He turned heel and left without another word.  It was so quiet that you swore you heard someone’s hairpin drop three offices down the hall.  Your heart hammered in your chest, pulse thrumming in your ears.  Whispers swarmed the office as soon as the elevator chimed closed and you inhaled sharply as Lord Pantalone came into view from your doorway, his eyes fixed on the elevators before he turned his attention to you.

Your boss regarded you with a golden stare that gave away nothing except the slightest hint of curiosity, a dark brow arching so subtly that you thought it was a trick of the afternoon sunlight.  Dread wrenched up from the pit of your stomach and gripped your heart.  It was the same look that he had given the appeal to your parents’ plea for leniency, for reconsideration of their loan rate.  You kept your face as impartial as possible, willed your hand to relax before you broke your pen.

Lord Pantalone said nothing but offered an enigmatic smile that you longed to wipe off of his ridiculously well-kept visage with your knuckles.  Before you could say anything, he turned back to the absurdly quiet lobby and to your colleagues, all of whom were milling around in anticipation.  

His eyes closed as his smile grew wider and he said, in the most saccharine voice, “Don’t you all have work to do?”

Agreements chimed from all sides and the office hummed with energy again.  It didn’t stop the looks over shoulders, the whispers, but you never expected it to.

Your boss disappeared again and you returned to the ledger in front of you briefly before deciding your lunch break couldn’t come at a better time.

__________________________

Lord Dottore did, in fact, return.  

You’d only just made a fresh cup of coffee, strong enough to keep you going for the next few hours, and wished your last colleague goodnight before settling in with the ledger from earlier.  It was too risky to do more than review anything during the day and the excuse of overtime was like a blanket on a cold day, the perfect protection.

Not every day, of course.  Too much overtime would raise questions.  Once or twice a week was enough to actually catch up on work and make any handwritten copies as needed.

This ledger outlined a particular noble’s outstanding balances but they seemed lower than they should have been.  The cash flow didn’t make sense.  A Snezhayan noble who might be funneling his money out of Snezhnaya was indicative of something.  

What, you couldn’t quite tell; then again, it wasn’t your job to analyze, merely observe and pass along potential leads.

Between your usual workload and the additional information you were hunting for, you’d given little thought to the previous events from earlier.  Lord Dottore had called the idea an experiment but you couldn’t help but wonder why and what, precisely, he would gain from being married for a single year to an absolute stranger.

Or, rather, acquaintance.  He knew who you were, in the roughest sense anyone could expect of the Second Harbinger.  

What you stood to gain from such an experiment wasn’t lost on you.  Any Harbinger connection was nothing to sneeze at and being the Second’s spouse probably came with more than you even considered.  Even afterwards, assuming you survived to tell the tale, those who served well were rewarded generously.  

Your parents’ debt could be settled and their records wiped clean.

But that still meant marrying a Harbinger.  Temporarily.

Ingratiating yourself further into the very system that put you here to begin with.  But information would be readily accessible.  Boundaries could be pushed with a mere assertion of position.

Passing it along would be far more difficult though.

And the Second Harbinger was not a man anyone wanted to piss off.  He’d killed Krupp for far less, you heard.

Lord Dottore clearly expected a ‘yes’ or at least a very well-thought-out declination.

You pushed your personal copies into an envelope just as you heard the elevator bank chime and the muted cadence of metal tapping carpet.  Instead of his usual attire, you were surprised to find the Lord Harbinger had abandoned his coat and the mechanical bird.  He still wore his gloves and the ridiculously obnoxious metal ornaments over a deep blue shirt, held close by a leather harness around his torso.  

It’s not like the harness was ever inconspicuous, of course—the ring and choker portion were never hidden by his cravat, after all.  

Did that one lock of hair always curl around his earring like that, you wondered.

“I did not expect you to be the last person to leave for the night,” he said by way of greeting.

“Disappointed you didn’t get to scare my colleagues again, Lord Harbinger?”

“Lord Pantalone takes care of that well enough, I’m certain.”

You gestured to the chairs in front of your desk and for the first time in several months, he actually took a seat after closing your office door.  Part of you expected him to extend his long legs and place his boots onto your desk but instead he crossed one ankle over his knee and settled back into the chair, hands clasped; he was never without his usual self-assured arrogance but at least he knew his boundaries, you assessed.

His head was angled down, perhaps looking at his hands for a second, before he angled his head to look at you.  Damn that mask.  At least Lord Pantalone went without obscuring his face, metaphorical though his mask was.  

“Have you given further thought to my offer?” Dottore asked.

“Am I allowed to ask questions?  Or are you simply looking for an answer, sir?”

He lifted his clasped hands and opened them slightly before settling them down in his lap, a silent offer to speak further.  You took a sip of coffee in an attempt to steel your nerves first.

“I was under the impression matrimony was reserved for the Tsaritsa’s discretion, firstly, in which case I’d rather not be on the receiving end of her ire.  If that’s not the case, why me?  And why would you put such a short window on what you are thinking of as simply another experiment?  It doesn’t seem very like you to put limitations on anything.”

You caught a glimpse of sharp teeth, his grin a little wider than you usually saw it.

“The Tsaritsa has no say either way.  We may be the enforcers of Her Will but we are not without autonomy.  As for the time-frame, it is not my stipulation.  Rather, it is the position I find myself in.  No doubt, in part, due to your great diligence in terms of tracking my spending and lack of return on investment.”

So he did blame you.  Shit.

He opened his hands again, gesturing slightly for emphasis as he continued.

“If I can commit myself to another for a single year, Lord Pantalone will approve whatever budget I wish, carte blanche.  Only for a year and it has to be someone whose name I know.  If I fail, every Segment is subject to stricter budgeting and I cannot afford more barriers between me and my research.  The Nation quite literally depends on half of the technology I have developed, never mind Her Most Noble Majesty’s wishes.”

Lord Pantalone would do such a thing, you well knew.  He enjoyed the positions that his power and his money could put people in.  And even those who were business partners were not exempt from it.  Much as the Second had little limitations on his own work, you knew enough between your work and the contracts your parents signed to know that Lord Pantalone was very much the same.

But Lord Dottore deserved to have a taste of failure every once in a while and bear the consequences of his actions.  

The Fatui was one giant house of wolves.  They should eat one another once in a while, you thought dismissively.

Besides, a lot of people knew your name.  That Lord Dottore did was, you supposed, an honor considering how little he cared for anyone or anything.  But you were his accountant.  It probably stemmed from enough respect to be civil to get what he wanted and you never thought much of it.

Dottore continued. “Such a situation does lend itself to an interesting social experiment, admittedly, and thus I am…curious.  Not quite as controlled as I prefer: a year is almost nothing in terms of time; there’s far too many variables.  But life is a series of experiences.  I would be remiss to not seek out new ones.“

“Why would I agree to something that would put me out of a job once my name is dry on the divorce papers?”

That was assuming, of course, that you survived at all, but you weren’t going to tempt fate.

Truthfully, you hadn’t expected him to be so forthcoming with the information.  And it must have shown on your face.  The grin reappeared again with a flash of teeth and Dottore gave a low laugh.

“Dear Accountant, you stand to gain far more than me.  But you are the perfect test subject.”

“Because you know my name?”

Dottore uncrossed his legs, planted his feet on the floor, and leaned forward.  His humor was all but gone as he pressed his hands flat against your desk again.

“And here I thought you might actually be clever.  If I’m going to do this ridiculous farce, I cannot actually seek out a proper spouse to match my station.  Not without destroying several political connections and throwing off what is already a delicate balance between the Tsaritsa and the Court.  You have an understanding of the Fatui, work for a Harbinger, and I tolerate you enough to converse with you for longer periods than most.”

He tapped your desk with his middle finger on every point, as if everything was already charted out in a diagram.

“Most importantly, you don’t tremble in my presence like everyone else.  A spouse who fears me would be a liability to both my status and work.  You’re an asset.  Surely that’s something even you can understand.”

Not that you liked being compared to something to be owned and preserved to retain value but you could see his point.  Negotiations never involved revealing one's cards, not all of them, and you couldn’t quite understand what you might not be seeing.

Divorce settlements among nobility were, you well knew, generous.  Mora didn’t solve everything but it would remove the lien on the tiny home and workshop, stop the debt collectors from threatening your father, and clear out the remaining balances owed.  

Forever branded as the Second Harbinger’s ex-wife; it was less a badge of honor and more the mark of an outcast.  Once that title settled over you, all trust would be gone, along with the power that came with status and rank.

You stood to lose a lot, you thought.  A quick rise and a high fall.

“You didn’t answer my question, Lord Harbinger.  If you are successful, I will be, at best, given a different position but I will also bear the title of divorcee for the rest of my life once everything is over.  A year to help you comes at a very high cost for me.  A year’s worth of social standing is not worth that risk.”

“Then take the time frame out of the equation for all I care.  That suits me even better.”

“But you said—”

“I never said anything about divorce, just that the marriage needed to last a year.  If you’re willing to go beyond that time, then I see no issue with it; a long term experiment might be fun, after all.  Just don’t be obvious with any indiscretions.”

You flinched slightly, cheeks warming.

“I’m hardly the most pleasant man, Accountant.  I wouldn’t demand a marital bed from someone who agreed to this nor expect one to be celibate if it does not suit them.”

You bit your tongue, swallowing a retort that was, at best, tasteless, and at worst, attention-seeking.  You couldn’t believe you were still entertaining this, let alone finding the newer terms agreeable.

But it would put you at a better advantage; that was undeniable.  More confidential information meant more money and you wouldn’t have to rely on Dottore’s coffers.  No matter who you married, if ever, you remained determined to be self-reliant in that regard.  And you got the sense that the less you needed to bother Dottore, the better.

Nothing would be more satisfying than taking the Fatui down from the inside.

You thought of your parents, toiling away at a debt they would never be able to repay; a debt that would be passed onto you.  Your father couldn’t keep it up forever, not with the way his cough sounded according to…

None of this was about you.  You had long accepted that.  But you might as well be useful.

“Fine.  I’ll do it,” you said at last.  “I’ll marry you.”

Dottore smiled, hiding his teeth and tilting his head to the side.  In any other situation, you would have considered it almost charming.

“I’m glad you came to see reason, Accountant.”

He reached towards your collection of fountain pens and pulled the silver letter opener you kept there out from its brethren.  It was shaped like a sword, an imitation of a Fontainian broadsword you saw on display for all of ten minutes.  He twirled the letter opener between his fingers, as if testing its weight, and then pressed the blade to your cheek.  

You felt a sharp sting, not unlike that of a paper cut, just enough to be naggingly painful.  Dottore tapped your nose with the flat of the letter opener.

“Bear in mind, I will address any and all threats to my station, my research, and my goals as I see fit.  No matter who they come from.”

“I would expect no less, Lord Harbinger.”

“As long as we understand one another.”

Your gut knotted itself as your mind raced.  He didn’t know, you told yourself.  He didn’t know about your parents, about the desperate actions you’d taken over the years, about the envelope you cast aside containing sensitive information that had yet to be sealed and addressed.  

Lord Dottore did things to keep people on their toes.  You were no exception.

You looked at him, presumably making eye contact with where you expected his eyes might be behind his mask.  He then placed the letter open back into its holder, the glass ringing as the tip reached the bottom.  You caught the slightest flash of red as the blade settled.

He rose to his feet and pulled his shoulders back, and you followed suit out of habit.  Your hands rested with your fingertips pressed against the desk, unsure of where they should be.  

“I will inform the Tsaritsa myself, although She will likely want an audience to assess you.  I do not expect her to allow me the sanctity of a private affair; I will leave most of the planning to you, if that’s the case.  Have a good evening.”

You nodded, urging yourself to not break eye contact.  He left your office without another word and you didn’t exhale until the elevator doors creaked open and shut, signaling you were alone.

You brought a hand up to your cheek, your skin wet and sticky.

It was just business, you reminded yourself.  Nothing you couldn’t handle.

__________________________

For someone so well-versed in numbers, calculations, and analysis, she is surprisingly daring.  Then again, that’s what makes this subject so intriguing.

My findings shall be recorded here, as usual, but I do not yet have a hypothesis to pose.  

I do detest those that tremble and cower, afraid to challenge me because of my reputation, my status.

If one does not ask questions, one will never find the answers they seek.  Assuming that one knows everything about this world and those beyond it is foolish; although I am closer to the truth than most, even I know there is more to this realm yet to be discovered.

And without toppling that floating island, that knowledge will never come to light.

Regrator knew what he was doing, offering such a reward for something so trivial.  Although I have access to more here than I ever did in that wretched institution, I am still beholden to ridiculous standards that cannot and should not be applied to me.  Unlimited funding would provide the other half of what I already have; I have turned time into a commodity, after all, which is one of the largest challenges anyone ever faces in terms of research.

I digress.

The second I realized the individual who might be tolerable enough to endure in the long term, I could think of no other.  Regrator’s stipulations were quite stupid; a year was nothing to me and names were even less than.  She, at least, seeks to understand a full picture whenever we must interact and I know her name because if I did not, I would never get what I wanted.  I would be a piss-poor diplomat if I didn’t know when to learn another’s name, after all.

Quite fascinating that she was so certain I would throw her out into the cold once the first year was up.  A year, while easy enough, is hardly sufficient for results.

And if I must bother with this, I might as well get the most out of it.  This way, I cannot be leveraged in a political alliance and I can explore, at least in part, what it is so many seem to enjoy out of a union with another.

I never gave it much thought before…it still seems like a waste of time that could be spent elsewhere.

But she is tolerable and even without receipts in front of her, does not back away from asking questions, challenging my perspective.

My younger selves never appreciated that.  I’ll need to manage their interactions and set boundaries.  Especially that pesky one who killed Krupp.  

I can’t exactly have my wife killed by my own hand before I have secured Regrator’s end to our bargain.  It would be in poor taste to have her expire at all but surely even she would understand that fine line between an asset and a liability.  

My present self finds most people lacking and her presence is a strange routine that I have begun looking forward to.  

I suppose that is a better place than any for the foundation of a long-term union.

[eluxcastar]

Heyy! May i request dottore x fem!reader who is a Porcelain doll(a puppet like scara but she's made out of Porcelain instead) and likes all those cute feminine stuff and collecting stuff like bows, Porcelain dolls and more. And I wonder if dottore would like the reader being pretty feminine and what's his opinion on Porcelain dolls (don't mind when i did any mistakes, English isn't my native language)

~🎀🧷

Dottore with a doll reader

── ୨୧：il dottore x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: silly rambles about Dottore and doll reader being cute

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: fem reader (no gendered terms really used tho tbh), soft dottore (listen it's my guilty pleasure), reader has the properties of porcelain, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 950

THIS ACTUALLY reminds me of one of the very very first drafts I wrote even before Tartaglia's little brotherfication (coincidentally also of Dottore) so this is very fun. That doll was one of Sandrone's creations and I've decided so is this one

this also may hit close to home did I ever mention my slight obsession with dolls (it's worse than slight)

Dottore has fixed you many times, much to his inconvenience.

He has warned you many times against becoming reckless, but you never seem to listen, at least in his eyes. You are by no means fragile—porcelain is hard to chip away at—your habit is simply that of finding danger. Finding it, throwing yourself at it, and landing yourself here in the darkest corners of the Fatui's headquarters so the doctor can carefully string you back together.

A gentle touch is not his forte, the practised hands of a doctor toiling away in his effort to put you back together. You prefer him to Sandrone any day for how much less pain you associate with him. He can scold you all he likes, but it may never work. You'll keep coming back and asking for his help when your strings come loose, and he will oblige your request for reasons that escape even him. It is a simple process now performed practically from memory.

Your habit of collecting frankly worthless items is certainly something. The bows, frilly dresses, and varying spools of lace you always claim you'll do something with and never do all feel normal. The porcelain dolls, on the other hand, are...interesting.

You are a living porcelain doll, and yet you collect them like novelty items. Isn't that like your equivalent of collecting human babies? Whatever it is to you, people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, so he keeps quiet as you fuss over their placement and hair, straighten their clothes or whether you're willing to sacrifice the careful styling of their hair to a pretty hat. It keeps you happy and away from everything dangerous that you seem to always run into.

The truth is, you are not in the slightest delicate despite making yourself seem that way. What you are is heavy, too heavy to always be lifting onto an operating table and too heavy to be lugging your pieces around—porcelain is not light.

However, there is interest to be had in the workings of your construction, which he is reminded of each time he takes you apart and watches you divide into inanimate pieces. You talk to him sometimes, pleasant background noise, or maybe just annoying when you start asking foolish questions he can't possibly answer. He can handle every "What are you doing?" and "Why are you doing that?" but when you begin to show your ignorance regarding your own creation and try to turn to him for answers instead of Sandrone, it frustrates him. 

You're supposed to answer his questions.

"She doesn't like my questions," you reason, and he never has to wonder why that is. Your incessant prodding and curiosity would irritate her, as does his indulging of your curiosity. She will complain that you're becoming restless and not as quickly satisfied, but really, nothing much at all has changed.

He can deal with your gravitation toward the things that make you happy if that's what keeps a smile on your face. One might even say he doesn't mind it, even when you pester him to help you tie your bows when they come loose in your hair or listen to your ramblings as you try to get him to help you with your dolls. He's better at tying knots than you. His hands have friction to keep the strings in place, unlike your slippery porcelain hands.

Your habits are endearing in their own way, the satisfaction with things that make you feel...human. You will never be, but the illusion of humanity and the yearning to chase it is not unlike the Segments. They think of themselves as human, believe they are, and exist as though they are human, yet they will never be as human as Prime. The only idea that makes sense is that you are displaying the same behaviour.

It is how Sandrone made you to be.

He can't say he especially blames you for following what your creation dictates. Your presence could bother him more than your interests could, namely a result of your many, many questions. It's not that you're sheltered or ignorant of the world around you—far from it—but most people don't know the nature of the things he works on, and you are no exception. You learned everything by asking, and he presents a wormhole of knowledge that you seek to understand by having him explain everything he's doing to you in great detail.

There's a bargaining that comes with it. Dottore will give you things so long as you stay out of the way, and you'll inspect them with a curious eye because he presents you with what Sandrone keeps you from. That is the only reason he can accept as to why you're talking to him, not that you like his voice and his smile, nor that you find the things he says fascinating or enjoy the light brush of his fingers against yours as he passes you your little 'distrations'. It's enough to watch him.

He complains his hands are always cold, and supposedly so are yours, but you've never felt temperature before. You like the faint glimpses of his scars, soft as his skin. They're not like yours, the closest equivalent being jagged cracks in your limbs that someone has to eventually fix before they worsen into breaks. 

Things are comfortable around him. He is used to the odds quirks of sentient, inhuman beings, and a benefit of being around them is that they don't mind how weird he is by most standards.

You are something he can easily get used to lingering around. Despite your similarities to the segments, he must admit that you are far less of a bother.

[stray-dog]

50 Shades of Dottore (Il Dottore x Fem!Reader)

A/N: This was originally a Childe smut, but I have favouritism syndrome so sorry to my fellow Childe mains, not proof read lol. Another repost uh I thought I made this male reader but I guess not - I mighttt make a male version

WC: 1.5K

CW: Mentions of a gun (he doesn’t use it that way), dubcon? blindfolds, light bondage, overstimulation, slapping, manhandling, degrading, begging, hair pulling, dacryphillia, pwp, minors dni

You stood there, wondering what you did to get to this, you’ve tried so hard to avoid him. Yet there he was, in front of you stood one of the highest ranking Harbingers, Il Dottore. He was staring at you with a smirk and a gun on hand. The aura of the room had already made you want to leave the room, not wanting to get involved with Dottore too much.

“Undress for me,  my sweetheart ”

It wasn’t a considerate request, more of a demanding tone, with one hand on your hip having a deadly tight grip, and his other hand twirling around a gun. Now. He spoke, playfully aiming and pressing the gun against your back before kissing your stomach and ‘helping’ you with his order, lifting the fabric of your cloth a little until you took it upon yourself to completely undress yourself in front of him.

“What an obedient whore you are.”

His eyes darkened and his face displaying a grin, thumb massaging your waist as he continued to kiss your stomach before lowering his head to your panties, tugging at the fabric with his teeth as he glanced up at you. You oblige, turning around before you do so, displaying your ass being undressed in front of the harbinger. He beckons for you to straddle his lap, he relaxed against his seat; legs spread wide.

He swiftly ties you a blind fold, completely blocking your vision, the thrill of it all only started to build up, not even a second later, you felt a slight sharp pain on your wrists as he tied those too.

“Open up, slut”

There you are on top of the harbinger, rubbing your soaking cunt against his boner while his fingers traced up and down your throat before slowly putting pressure on your neck, choking and making your head feel light. A small whimper came out of you the second his fingers welcomed themselves into your cunt, loud and wet squelches filled the room while Dottore watched his fingers disappear in you.

You felt his fingers on your mouth, tapping lightly, signalling you to open for him. You licked his fingers clean, your saliva coating and glistening against his pretty fingers. His hand found your clit once more and flicked it, sending a jolt of mixed pleasure and pain up your spine. Slipping his fingers back in your cunt while his thumb rubbed your clit continuously, his pace quickening by the second before slowing back down when you arch your back. His mouth attaching to yours before he kissed you aggressively, hungry growls as his grip on your neck tightens to keep your head still and unable to pull away from the kiss.

You whined at the lack of air to which Dottore only took a couple of seconds before pulling away. The sight of your face mixed with pleasure and struggle to breathe sent his throbbing dick to strain his pants and your slick dripping past his fingers and staining it. He clicked his tongue “So messy,” before sucking on your tits, his teeth grazing over it; threatening to bite softly.

 His other hand moves from your neck to your other nipple giving it some attention. Slowly rolling it between his fingers, tugging and pinching it ever so lightly. Your back arched as you felt your orgasm, your hole tightening around Dottore’s fingers before pulling out and smacking your clit again. 

He continues, quickening his pace even more, causing your body to spasm and twitch uncontrollably. Dottore, you whined, laying your head on the crook of his neck, his coat’s fur tickling your skin while you kissed his jaw and neck, begging for him to stop as the overstimulation grew.

  Dottore… You repeated, sounding more desperate for him to stop, the more pathetic you sound the more Dottore wanted you to beg, harder and harder. He gave no reply as he stared blankly at you, finally stopping and letting out a low growl before shifting your position, his legs spread while you were on your knees, inches away from his clothed groin, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.

You felt his hands grip the back of your head, sticking your tongue out and trying to feel where his zipper was, biting on the metal and pulling it down. Feeling the warm wet fabric he had covering his aching dick, your heavy breath felt warm against his dick You always know what to do, he praises, you kiss and tease him before he releases his cock, guiding your head while you open your mouth and stick your tongue out to take him in. 

Your cries were muffled when he forced his dick in your mouth, immediately touching the back of your throat as you gagged on him, earning a proud scoff from Dottore. He lets go of your head, allowing you to breathe for a bit before you continue to bob your head. You hear his deep groans, your thighs pressing together as you feel your slick coating your inner thighs. 

You quickened your pace, your tongue focusing more on the slit of his tip wanting Dottore to cum and get out of this situation quickly, he grips your hair before pulling you away quickly, “Ah, ah, ah, patience my dear, patience.” He scolds.

“Let’s try that again. Don’t try to cheat me out of our sweet sweet time together ”

His hand grabbing on your jaw before softly caressing your cheek, a loud smack echoed throughout the room as you felt the sting of his slap. Go on, he commanded, snapping you back to reality. You tremble as you open your mouth to suck him off, tears staining the fabric of your blind fold. You suck his tip before going down to the base, your tongue laying flat on his base before you resume bobbing your head, hollowing your cheeks to fit his cock better. 

You jolt at the familiar feeling of his hand on your cheek, grazing over the reddened skin. You sniffled, hearing a mocking “ aw ” from Dottore, “My sweetheart, was I too hard on you?” you hummed, sending vibrations on his cock as he groaned. “ Answer me, you know it hurts me more when you went on avoiding me, flaunting yourself to the other Harbingers. ”  

You slowly raised your head, a string of saliva connecting your lips and his cock. No, you answered shyly. You feel his hands choke you once more as he drags you up to his lap, returning to your previous position with his dick resting between your ass.

���So does that mean I can do more than that, hm?”

You shudder at the thought, if he wanted to do more he could. Before you could answer, you felt his lips on your cheek, leaving soft kisses to relieve the pain from earlier, “I know you can take more.” His thumb massaging your lips, you grind against his cock as a response, feeling it rub against your wet cunt, but you still wanted more.

 “ Dottore, please, please.” His hand went down and massaged your clit again, painfully slow while you tried to both rub against his cunt and hump his finger, “And I thought you didn’t want me, am I that good? My, my, am I flattered.”

“Fuck me, please.. Dottore, please fuck me, be gentle..”

“Well, for all I know you could be asking all the other harbingers the same thing. Why don’t I call the others to fuck you thoroughly?”

No, no, you frantically shook your head, finally succumbing to his charm. “How loyal” he said sarcastically before his other hand crawled up the back of your head, untying your blindfold. Your blurry vision slowly started to focus, looking down on Dottore, his mask covering his red malevolent eyes. 

Your tears that were once caught by the blindfold fell to his face, sticking his tongue out as he licked one that fell near his mouth. You felt his cock become impossibly harder, slipping it past your wet cunt as he started to hump your cunt without a warning, his arms wrapped tight around you. 

You gulped before your head buried itself to the crook of his neck again. Biting on the skin to prevent any loud moans from slipping, your legs trembling, weakly wrapping around his waist. “ No, dear, no no, I want to hear you scream my name. It’s no fun if you’re going to be quiet.” He said between groans while his hand trailed up the back of your neck and gently pulled you off, releasing your mouth and a chain of moans followed.

Loud, squelchy noises, skin slapping, and heavy breathing. That was all you could hear, your shoulders felt numb from the bondage. You felt another orgasm take over you as your body instinctively arched from the pleasure, releasing a gush of fluid, squirting while your moans became broken and tired. 

Dottore came soon after you, his grip on your neck tightening while his head rested on the sofa. His cum dripped from your hole to the base of his cock, feeling him completely pull out and his semen leak. You felt his cock position near your hole again before pushing back the cum that leaked. You whined at the pain from the sudden movement.

“Considering you’ll avoid me after this, I suggest you prepare yourself. Because we, my dear, are just getting started.”

[phoenixblaze1412]

Can I kindly ask for a Dottore X reader who has a bad habit of stealing his fatui coat and wearing it or using it as a blanket?

"I could have sworn I placed it on the couch..."

Dottore muttered under his breathe as he looked around his office in search of his fatui coat. He was supposed to be attending a harbinger's meeting and he was about to be late. He sighed in exasperation as he went to ask his segments if they have seen his coat somewhere.

"That ugly thing? No, I do not know where it is. But I did noticed darling dearest came inside the room a few moments ago before leaving quickly."

Is what the Theta segment answered, his focus was mostly on the report that was assigned to him and not bothering to glance at his creator. Dottore could only hum in return before leaving the laboratory, searching for your room.

He should have thought of it by now, he knew you would always try and steal his coat just to wear it. Dottore always wondered why you prefer wearing it when it's bigger than your figure but your reply was because it was warm and smells like him.

The warm part he understands but his scent on the coat? Ridiculously not.

Dottore finally reached your room with a huff before knocking on the door and calling out your name.

"Darling, it's me. I know you have my coat and I need to wear it for the meeting."

When Dottore didn't hear any reply from you, he let out a sigh before opening the door himself and entering the room. He noticed your figure on the bed as he walked up towards you. Dottore was about to scold you for taking his coat again but the sight before him made him stop.

There on the bed you lay, with his coat covering your small figure, your hands gripping onto the fabric. He did noticed the temperature of your room being more colder as of late, possibly due to the winter weather becoming more harsher the past few days. And with him always busy in his work, you didn't bother ask him to cuddle with to keep you warm and instead decided to use his fatui coat instead.

Dottore sat on the edge of your bed, tucking a few strands of your hair behind your ear that was blocking your face. He watched as you slept peacefully while being under the warmth of his coat. He would want to join you but he is required to attend the meeting or else Pierro will be scolding his ears off.

Lifting his mask up, Dottore leaned down and pressed his lips against your temple before getting up from your bed and leaving the room, deciding to let you keep his coat until he comes back from the meeting.

Quickening his steps, he made his way inside the meeting room where all his fellow harbingers are.

"You are late, Dottore. Where even is your harbinger coat?"

"Sadly, that coat got into such an unfortunate circumstance and I am never late Jester.. you and the rest of the people in this room are simply too early."

Dottore crossed his arms over his chest, not caring how he is the only one out of the rest of the harbingers who isn't wearing their traditional harbinger coat. Some gave him a curious glance while others only rolled their eyes at his remark. Pierro on the other hand, simply sighed before continuing the meeting.

"I am quite curious.. is the reason why you don't have your coat on was because of a certain someone? It has gotten quite chilly these past few days. Should I make a customised coat for your partner?"

Pantalone glanced at Dottore with an amused smile, noticing how the doctor himself isn't even shivering under the cold temperature of the palace.

"No need, Regrator. Besides, I doubt they would even accept your generosity over a new coat."

Dottore replied, already knowing the reasons why you wouldn't even dare to accept Pantalone's offer. He would rather let you wear his coat instead, besides he's already used to cold temperatures. And if he does get cold, he could just pull you towards him and hug into your warmth.

[xreaderanonaccount]

Punishment (Pantalone x F!Reader x Omega Build)

Synopsis: Dottore may or may not have went over budget by 3 million mora. Pantalone deemed it nessacary for a punishment. That just happens to include you and Omega.

Not beta read, we die like Dottore's segments

RATING EXPLICIT. MINORS DNI.

Content warning: Smut, AFAB Reader, Threesome M/F/M, oral (female reciving), fingering, overstimulated

A/N: Honestly I lowkey lost motivation near the end.

Divider credits: cafekitsune

You sat in Dottore’s lab, enjoying watching Dottore and his segments do whatever they were doing. You tried to ask once about what they’re doing but it was too complicated for you to understand. But either way you enjoy watching them do whatever they were doing. You snuggled into a thick winter jacket the smell of your other lover the 9th harbinger Pantalone fills your lungs. A complicit smile was plastered on your face as you happily watched. The lab was slightly noisy but not too much to bother you, but that noise was soon filled with a different type of noise as fast and hurried footsteps stomped towards the lab. Prime and the segments didn’t seem to notice but you surely did. The lab door slammed open with a thundering shake as a fast blob of black stormed past you, straight to Prime. Finally getting a good look you could see the angered face of your lover Pantalone. His normal facade was long gone as he ripped Prime around pinning him in his arms on the table. 

“Ah, Lord Regrator. Now what do I owe the pleasure?” Dottore fain a fake smile as he crossed his arms. 

“Don’t take that bullshit with me, Doctor.” Pantalone’s voice filled the venom sneered at Dottore. The segments shuffled away from the two harbingers more close to you. Some are scared and wanting to be near you, and some shield you to make sure those two don’t end up hurting you. You peered at the two between the shield of segments. 

“Tell me why you spend 3 million mora without. My. permission.” Pantalone sneered his face inches away from Dottore’s face. If it was anyone else you’d think they were going to duke it out with each other. But since they are your two lovers you have an inkling on an idea on what Pantalone has in mind. The two harbingers sat in silence as they stared down at each other. Dottore with a shit eating grin and Pantalone with an angered expression. 

“Well…” Dottore finally broke the silence, “Why not?” Dottore’s shit eating grin grew wider as the hold Pantalone had on the table creaked. Pantalone leaned closer to Dottore where the lips were mere inches away from each other. Pantalone let out a chuckle as he leaned back still pinning Dottore down on his lab desk. 

“I guess a punishment is in order.” Pantalone's smooth voice smiled as he let go of Dottore. Pantalone whipped around finally acknowledging you and the segments that were there. He carefully walked up to you with the fake customer service smiles that he always has. He was only a few inches away from the group before looking at Omega. 

“You stay, the rest of you…” Pantalone glared at the other segments who immediately knew what Pantalone was saying and rushed out of the lab. Some gave you worried glances but you nodded at them. No matter how mad Pantalone or Dottore is they would never lay a hand on you. Especially not when Omega was standing with them. 

“My dear lily,” Pantalone pushed a strand of hair behind your ears, “will you do me the honor and aiding me on the Doctor’s punishment?” The question had you confused. What punishment does Pantalone have in mind? And why does it involve Omega? You hesitantly nodded glancing over to Prime who seemed bored out of his mind. 

“I knew you would help me.” Pantalone whispered into your ear, brushing his hand in your inner thigh. Your face heated up by the very intimate act in front of Omega and Prime. Pantalone gave a ghost of a kiss on your cheek before pulling away. He turned to Omega and whispered something that was too hard to discern. Omega had the same shit eating grin that Prime had as he nodded. Whatever Pantalone had said Omega was 100 percent on board with it. You watched as Omega walked over to Prime and shoved him down on a nearby old wooden chair. Prime looked up at Omega, confused and angered by the segment's audacity. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Prime tried to protest before Omega grabbed lab restraints and restrained him to the old chair. Prime looked around confused at Pantalone who just gave him a “friendly” smile. Once Omega assured Prime wasn’t going to escape any time soon. A final touch Omega did was toss Prime’s mask aside. Prime’s crimson red eyes glares at Omega who just chuckled while walking away from Prime. He stalked over to where you and Pantalone were. The two exchanged a nod before Omega walked over to you. You stared up at him curious on what he was going to do. Omega smashed his lips onto yours, hungrily sucking all the air of your lungs. You yelped in surprise as he continued his relentless attack on your lips. His shark teeth nibbling your bottom lip raw. A moan escaped your lips as Omega slid his rough hand up your inner thigh, resting dangerously close. You felt another more gentle hand starting to knead your breast, you tried to look around but Omega had you on a tight hold. But you can guess who it was. 

“You’re doing so good my dear lily.” The familiar voice of Pantalone whispered into your ear. There was so much going on that you had no clue what’s happening. Pantalone was nibbling on your ear, Omega relentlessly attacking your lips you couldn’t help but moan in this situation. Omega pulled away smirking as he wiped some saliva that stringed along with him. 

“This is entirely unfair My Lord.” Prime’s voice interrupted the moment, you glanced over seeing him pulling against his restraints, a clear strain in his pants as his face was flushed. Pantalone just chuckled, completely ignoring Prime’s complaints. He lifted you up before laying you down on his chest on the long Chesterfield couch. You felt a dip in the couch, looking up you see Omega hovering over you. A stupid smile plastered all over his face, you gasped as you felt Omega’s hand starting to brush underneath your skirt, his hand playing with the bands of your underwear. Omega chuckled as he slipped his hands into your underwear playing with your folds. You tried to muffle your moans with your hands, but was quickly slapped away by Pantalone. 

“Ah ah ah, don’t muffle your voice dear. I want to hear all of you.” Pantalone smiled as he started to knead your breast pinching your nipples through your cloth breast. A loud moan ripped out of your throat as both Pantalone and Omega started to attack your sensitive areas. 

“This is getting in the way.” Omega muttered as he ripped your skirt and underwear off of you. The cold freezing air gives you a shiver as the warmth you once had was now gone. Pantalone chuckled in agreement as he lifted your turtleneck, bunching it up right above your breast. Pantalone clicked his tongue in annoyance as he ripped your favorite bra off of you. You yelped in surprise and glared at Pantalone,

“That was my favorite one, you know.” Pantalone smiled as his gloved hand cupped your breast giving it a good squeeze.

“I’ll buy you another one dear.” Pantalone quickly stole a kiss muffling your moans as Omega who you almost forgot was there shoved two fingers right into your cunt. Your back arched as Omega pistoned his fingers in and out of you. Pantalone and Dottore may act gentle towards you but they were true sadists at heart. They love torturing you and that also goes for Dottore’s segments as well. Omega continued his relentless attack on your pussy as Pantalone attacked your breast, capturing your lips. You can hear Prime’s panting and groans. He was clearly trying to get out of his restraints but Omega’s knot tying skills were quite impressive. You felt as Omega pulled his fingers out of your wet mess, a whimper muffled as you tried to pull away from Pantalone’s kiss. You pulled away from Pantalone’s kiss, panting as you stared to where Omega’s eyes would be. As he kept that damned mask on. Omega chuckled as he licked your essence off his fingers. He hummed in pleasure as he gave a shark-like smile. You watched as he leaned down towards your clit.  His face inches away from it  which was fluttering from anticipation. You could hear Prime groan as he watched Omega connect his lips with your clit. Omega’s name falls out of your lips like a prayer to the archons as he flattens his tongue on your wet clit. Your hand tangled into his wavy light blue hair tugging it hard. Causing a groan to vibrate around your clit. Too overstimulated by Omega’s relentless attacks you didn’t notice Pantalone reaching down and freeing his hard on. It wasn’t until you felt something slapping against your bare back. A moan ripped through your throat as you felt his dick rub against you. The slick pre-crum from his dick coating your back. Omega quickly brought your attention back to him as he plunged his fingers into your soaping pussy. A mixture of moans ranged in the room, some from you but mainly from Prime who was thrown forward. His crimson eyes staring intently at you, glazed over with lust. 

“How pitiful, isn't it my dear?” Pantalone's voice interrupted your trance, “He’s gotten all worked up. He could have all of this right now, but sadly, he went way over budget.” You practically feel Pantalone’s fake smile from your position. Prime just glared back at him. Before you could possibly protest Omega hit your prostate which caused a high pitch moan echoing across the lab. You continued to chant Omega’s name, trying to reach that high, the coil in your stomach feeling tight and tighter. As you felt like you were about to reach euphoria, a gloved hand ripped Omega off your clit which caused you to cry out. You were so close, so so close and it was ripped away. Pantalone tuted as he rested his head on your shoulder peering to Omega. 

“Now now Omega, let’s put on an actual show for your dear creator. Hm?” Pantalone chuckled as he scooted you off his lap. Readjusting you to where you were sandwiching between Omega and Pantalone. Both of their dicks standing up straight, you licked your lips in anticipation. You’re used to Prime and Pantalone dicks plunging into you but this is the first time you’ll be taking Omega’s dick. You felt a gloved snake around your neck forcing you to make eye contact with Prime who now had a calm, dark expression. You gulped as you glanced over to Pantalone who just gave you a smile.

“Now dear, show our dear doctor a show he won’t forget.” Pantalone spoke out leaning his head against yours watching Prime’s reaction mix from calm to lust. Pantalone nodded to Omega who plunged his synthetic dick straight into your pussy. Wanton moans fall out of your mouth as Omega sets a ruthless pace, pistoning in and out of your pussy. The feeling overwhelming, your hands flew to the back of Omega’s neck pulling him closer to you. Even if you couldn’t see him you wanted him near you. 

If the feeling of pure bliss couldn’t get any better you felt Pantalone finally plunge his dick into your gaping ass. He set almost the same ruthless pace, but had the timing off. As soon as Omega pulled out he would push in, and vice versa. The feeling is so overwhelming, Omega’s thin but long dick paired with Pantalone’s thick and girthy cock pounding into both of your holes. You chanted their names, straining your throat as the two whispered sweet nothings into your ear. You glanced over to Prime who was breathing heavily pulling against his restraints, the veins in his forearm popping by the sheer force he’s pulling out. You couldn’t help but moan his name, Pantalone smirked against your skin.

“Go on dear, keep saying his name. Show him what he’s missing. This is his punishment.” Not wanting to displease Pantalone you started to moan Prime’s name as the two continued to pound against you. It felt so good, the familiar knot started to form in your stomach.

“C-cum, want- ngh~ to cum” You tried to say but the ruthless pounding made it really hard for you to say anything. 

“Hm, You want to cum dear?” Omega smirked as he halted his movements. Whining by the loss of movement. Omega chuckled as he started to bite against your neck. You nodded feverishly, trying to repeat what you said but only moans escaped your mouth. 

“What do you say my lord, do we let her cum?” Omega teased, peering over your shoulder, Pantalone hummed as he started to slow his pace. You whine from the lost sensation, the knot slowly disappearing. 

“Please! P-please let me cum sir, please” You begged, normally when you're not in this situation you would have argued with Pantalone. This was Dottore’s punishment, not yours! So why won’t they let you cum? Pantalone seemed to have read your mind before he returned back to his brutal pace. 

“She’s been such a good darling for us. So why not?” Pantalone smiled as Omega started his relentless pace again.So did your moans, your wanton moans and chants filling up the lab as the two men bite deep into your shoulder. Omega’s bite specifically draws blood. The knot quickly came back coiling so tight that after one praise from Omega had you coming undone from the two men. 

“Cumming, cumming.” You stated the obvious, the two helped you ride your high. But as you thought they would slow down their pace they did not let up. Startled and overstimulated, you gasped and rasped a moan as the two continued their pace.

“We haven’t cum yet dear, it would be unfair for you to only have fun.” Pantalone cooed as he grunted. Your senses were so overstimulated you couldn’t help but throw your head back on Pantalone’s shoulder. You just let the two men have their way, letting them chase their high. Feeling their dicks piston in and out of your greedy holes, sucking them whole. Omega moans started to get louder and louder as he reached his high, he gave his hips one final snap as he unloaded his cum all into your greedy pussy. You moan by the weird sensation that filled you, Omega’s cum wasn’t like true come but felt more like fake cum. Your thoughts quickly snap as you feel Pantalone groan as grinded his hips against yours allowing your ass to milk his cum dry. Pantalone gave a content sigh as he dropped his head on your shoulder. You panted as you let your body relax into Pantalone’s chest. Omega gave a small chuckle as he leaned over and gave a tender kiss on your neck. 

“You did so good my dear.” Omega whispered. A loud ripping sound snapped your thoughts over to the source. You looked up spotting Dottore towering over you guys. His crimson eyes glaring down at Omega who just smiled pulling out and stuffing his dick back inside his pants. 

“Out.” Is all prime said as Omega took his sweet time walking out of the lab.

“If you need me darling, you know where I’ll be.” Omega smiled at you as he dodged a knife that was thrown at his head by Prime. You looked up at Prime who had such lust filled eyes.

“I believe your punishment was suficay.” Pantalone smiled as he got up from the couch. Prime just grumbled as he tried to kiss you but you were quickly pulled up and into Pantalone’s arm, bridal style.

“Ah ah, our dear is tired and doesn’t have the energy to fulfill your needs.” Pantalone gave him a shit eating grin as he started to carry you out of the lab.

“She’s our darling if you have forgot.” Prime practically growls. Pantalone hummed as he grabbed one of Dottore’s lab coats draping it over your exposed body.

“Yes but she’s clearly tired, so good day doctor.” Pantalone chuckled as he left Dottore alone in his lab hot and bothered. Dottore felt his jaw crack as he grabbed the nearest beaker and threw against the ground. He’s going to get back at Pantalone, he knows just how to do so. 

[lavandulawrites]

Can you give us some Yandere Dottore please ☺️

Hurry Before The Dinner Gets Cold

Yandere Dottore x reader

Dinner with Dottore is never pleasant.

Masterlist

Word count: 794

The silver wear clinked against the porcelain plates. The room were dimly lit, making it a almost cozy atmosphere. A butler and a maid were standing against the east wall, almost like they were apart of the decoration. The wind howled outside.

In front of you sat Dottore. His gaze fixed on the beef on his plate. Blood was oozing from the rare steak as he cut into it with precision. Like a surgeon.

His eyes met yours. “Are you not going to touch your food dear?” his deep voice thick like honey. His expression one of concern. “I know that you do not trust me, but you need nutrition.”

Your mouth a tin line “I am not hungry”.

His stare unyielding. His eyes a replica of the dark blood in the many test tubes inside if lab. “Really?”

“Yes” you nodded trying your best to remain expressionless.

He hummed as his gaze bore through you. “Why do I find that hard to believe?” he tilted his head. He sighed and snapped his fingers. The butler hurried to him and bowed his head in an almost inhuman way. “Bring me the chef” he ordered. The butler nodded and hurried out. Not too long after the chef was standing beside Dottore.

“Is it perhaps that the food wasn’t to your liking?” Dottore raised a brow and nodded towards your untouched food.

You quickly caught onto his scheme and shook your head. “N-no! It’s not that at all!” you waved your hands and forced your lips into a tight smile.

The Harbinger’s eyes wandered over your features. “Are you sure darling? If your meal is not good enough, I will have to punish the chef. After all your happiness and comfort is the most important thing for me” his face twisted in concern.

Your eyes flickered to the chef who’s face was drenched in sweat. He was shaking. You gulped “I assure you the meal is not the issue”.

Dottore hummed. “Are you perhaps not feeling well?” his expression unreadable. “Everyone get out” he ordered. The servants and the chef all exited in a hurry leaving you alone with the blue haired man. “Let’s make a deal” he leaned forward and folds his hands hand rests his head on them. “You eat up all the food on your plate and I will spare the chef. Sounds good doesn’t it?” he said with a unsettling grin.

You looked down in your plate. With a shivering hand you lifted the fork to your lips. You closed your eyes to calm your nerves. A hum could be heard from opposite of the table “You better hurry for the dinner gets cold”.

You held your breath and shoved the fork into your mouth. The meat was tender and cooked after your preference.

“See? That wasn’t so hard was it now?”. You opens your eyes and were met with a sharp teethed smile. “You were afraid I drugged the food.”

You swallowed. “I have my rights to be suspicious”

“Of course my love” his voice melodic. “You were indeed right with your suspicion.”

You dropped your fork. You entire frame shaking. “What…?”

“Oh come now. It’s not dangerous. It’s just a way to get you a little more relaxed. I am starting to get sick of your small riots, so I came up with a solution. This drug will make your mind slowly but surely more submissive. I really do love you you know, but u can’t have you keep hurting yourself” he smirked. “Though it seems that I have to find a new way…” he sighed. “But worry not… I will have your memory of this dinner wiped. Just like last time…” his red eyes gleaming with something sinister.

Your eyes widened. The hair on the back of your neck raising. “Last time?” your voice shaky.

Dottore smiled “Yes darling. Wiping someone’s memory so mere child play for a man of my calibre”. He chuckled and rose to his feet. The chair scraping against the carpet. Like a animal he stalked towards you. He stopped behind your chair and leaned down. Much to your dismay you had to admit the doctor smelled good. Really good. His smell always bringing you a sense of comfort.

He leaned hand on the arm rest of your chair. His lips mere centimetres away from your ear. “Relax darling. This is for your own good you know?” his lips kissing your neck. He pulled away and placed a device against your right temple. When did he get that? The device glowed blue and it hummed slightly.

“Rest now…”

Darkness swallowed your senses and you fell into a deep slumber.

Dottore stroked your hair with a living expression. “A pity… I have to start over it seems.”

[waayfo]

i said, “do u think u’ll kill for me one day?” (yes, of course i will, my darling)

dottore x gn!reader. lyric from national anthem (demo). mentions of killing or murder / possessiveness / mentions of dottore’s real name / pet names / cursing / slight ?? yandere / ooc ( kinda soft dottore ). english is not my first language !

You know that Dottore, or your boss is a mad man who does as he pleases—at least that's what people think. But he always acts a little differently to you, which clearly shows favoritism. An act of favoritism that is certainly not left to some other people.

Other people try to take advantage, by asking you to make dottore do something. The most common thing that happens is when they ask you to beg dottore to release their newest prisoner (?) that became the subject of Dottore's experiments who is either their family or friend or partner.

And of course, you’re not happy with it.

You are not a tool to fulfill their wishes. And they were merely just strangers who suddenly came to ask for help, without repaying.

You are pissed.

But also scared at the same time.

Just now you came out of the room called the ‘sacred’ dottore's office. But a stranger who you guess is a new worker just by looking at his impolite behavior, suddenly grabs your arm and takes you somewhere.

“What the heck?!” You yelp. Ignoring the fact that the stranger's hands were shaking violently.

The stranger is now facing you. While his hand was still gripping yours tightly, to the point where you were in pain. "P- please help me!"

You let out a harsh sigh. "No, i won't help you. Thanks to your very impolite behavior.”

“W- w- wait! What do you mean?! This is urgent, and you must help me!” The audacity, you curse him in your mind.

“I said no!” Those three words managed to make him angry instantly.

“You—you should know your place! Is it because you managed to tempt The Doctor with your body and face means you can do whatever you want?!” You winced at his words, it felt like you were being stabbed by a knife, even though you know that it's all not true.

“If you will not tell that crazy man to free my friend—I will cut off your head, and present it to him.” You just looked at him in disgust thinking that he was a strange man. A disgusting strange man.

“Fuck off!” You yell at him.

Long story short, you managed to release his grip. But you couldn't help but notice the bruise on your wrist. You are increasingly annoyed and decide to end all this in an ‘inelegant’ way; using your heels, you stomp on his feet full of revenge. It should hurt a lot, you think.

And when you saw his reaction of pain and screaming, you immediately ran as fast as you could. Your body feels like it's on autopilot when you subconsciously search for someone you know too well— A tall and pale skin man, with light blue and slightly wavy hair, which makes anyone know his identity. And makes anyone afraid and even begs for mercy.

And there he was, standing straight with his hands behind his back like always.

“—tore,” Your breath hitches but tries to reach for his name.

“Dottore!” The man— Dottore looked at you quickly, as if he had been looking for you all along. He opened his arms, making room for you to fall into his embrace again. And you (will) happily return to his arms.

“Zandik!” You call his name once again, as if it were a spell that could make you happy for eternity. “Yes, dear?”

He lifted your chin, making you look up at him. His hand moved to wipe away a few tears that had fallen. Ah, since when have i cried? Why did i cry?

“What happened?” His calm voice made you shudder. You tightened your grip on his white lab jacket. And you know it won't cause him any pain.

You shake your head. "Nothing happened."

“Something happened,” His other hand, covered in a glove made especially for him, is now cupping your cheek. And his other hand, stroking your hair. “Am i right?”

The words are reluctant to come out and get stuck in your throat. You were too afraid to answer, too afraid to imagine what would happen to that stranger.

Silence enveloped the room. You only feel warmth, whether because of the heater in the room or because of Dottore's touch.

Knowing there would be no answer from you, dottore sighed. He placed you to sit on his desk. The desk was a little messy because of the papers, but there was still a place for you to sit.

Dottore's head lifted so he could see your face and what expression you were wearing right now— scared, with traces of tears.

His hand again rose to cup your cheek, then traced every curve on your face that he thought was beautiful. The touch felt strangely soft. Knowing that it was a touch from The Doctor— someone who had killed many people in order to achieve perfect experimental results.

And when he was about to hold your hand, he noticed something. A bruise on your wrist, a fucking bruise. That somewhat pissed him off.

“Who did this to you?” You can easily tell that he is angry, by the way he talks and the questions he asks.

“It’s— it’s just a random bruise i got—” “Stop lying.”

You were silenced quickly.

“You’re always been patient when other people try to take advantage of you,” Dottore's calm voice was whispery. If he knew about it all along, why did he continue to comply with your request?

Dottore closed his eyes for a moment, trying to connect the dots. “Someone asked you for help again? And you refuse, then they gets angry?” You nod.

“Is it a new employee?” You nod again.

“Tell me about them.” You told him straight away.

Dottore nodded. He noted it in his mind.

Out of sudden, you cupped Dottore's face. Cold, is the first thing that comes to your mind. Everything about him was cold, and so was his skin. You saw his pale face, but you couldn't guess what expression he had behind his mask.

As if he could read your mind, he took off the mask that covered part of his face. He put the mask right next to you.

“You’re not angry?” You ask, breaking the silence.

“Why?”

“Because i touch you– i touch your face.”

“Foolish question. Absolutely no.”

Dottore's hand covered yours that was touching his face. Maybe dottore can see your cheeks are a little red right now. Maybe now that stranger is scared right now that you managed run away.

You kissed Dottore's forehead as a thank you.

“I'll take care of it quickly.” And you can't imagine what experiments Dottore would do to the stranger.

[screamingcrows]

A Good Night's Sleep - Zandik x Reader

Author's note: Feed this to an AI algorithm and I'm feeding you to Streptococcus pyogenes. This is written under the assumption that Zandik is Dottore (idk if using the Dottore tag is okay for it? If not please let me know and I'll remove it) 1.7k words of inexperienced NSFW Zandik Warnings: Somnophilia, noncon, there is no penetrative sex, dry humping, blood (very little), fem reader, very vague thoughts of murder, nsfw Summary: You're out on a field trip together and have been trekking through the forest all day. Somehow Zandik just isn't as tired as he should be. You're fast asleep. So naturally, he decides to try a hands on experiment. MINORS, AGELESS, AND BLANK BLOGS DNI - you will be blocked on sight

Zandik rubbed at his eyes, trying to convince himself that his inability to fall asleep was caused by external factors. You'd been trekking through the forest most of the day, and any proposed break had been quickly shut down by him.

Theoretically, he should be just as fast asleep as you. He turned on the thin mat, faintly cursing at the pitiful excuse for bedding. Proper sleep was a comfort he'd grown to take for granted, and the reminder of how things had once been stung. At least you'd managed to set up the bug net together, even if sharing did mean having to be a little closer than he'd have liked. Pillows would've been nice. Maybe if he hadn't insisted on travelling as light as possible.

It was always easy to be clever in hindsight. If only it could be harnessed.

Burying his face into the scratchy blanket that covered his body he attempted to block out any disturbances. He was no stranger to erratic thoughts, but tonight felt excessive.

His fingers tapped against his thigh in a well-known rhythm while shifting his breathing to accompany the subtle notes. By all means it should work to ease his thoughts, a tried and tested strategy. And it did. His frantic thoughts fading into nothing, no more triple-checking plans for tomorrow, considering parts to excavate and examine, plants to bring back, measurements to take…

A blissful silence settled, broken only by the rustling leaves above.

Until you moved. A small, sleepy mewl escaping your lips as you shuffled beside him. He didn't have to see you to to know what infuriatingly peaceful expression what likely on your face. Images of your soft features flooding his mind, hands moving to scratch at his scalp.

How he tried once more to push those thoughts away, his crimson eyes darkening as memories of the day filled his consciousness nonetheless. You, with your deviously impractical attire, shorts that had left practically everything exposed. It was a daring choice, reflecting the total confidence with which you had moved through the thicket. Oh how his fingers ached to know what it would be like to touch bare skin, hands flexing at the mere thought.

Nothing but a preprogrammed reaction. Although annoying and impractical, the response was natural. The thought circulated in the back of his mind, slowly losing meaning. His body curled in on itself, delirious poison spreading through his body.

You were fluttery by nature, a little bird struggling to remain still for longer intervals. Easily excitable as well, in the most annoying way. You'd flitted around in the forest, zigzagging between moss, animals, shiny rocks, saplings… Leaning down and touching anything you could, ass up while you chatted about your findings.

He'd never had problems concentrating, but with all the blood draining from his mind to other places, it had been impossible to focus on your ramblings.

Despite the hurdles of keeping you on a leash, he always found himself having to suppress a smile when you yapped, your eyes alight with glee. So much went on behind those bright eyes of yours, words clearly too slow to convey everything clearly. That much was evident with how you sometimes spoke in tongues, stumbling and altogether skipping words. But better yet, how you looked when your brows furrowed, sucking your cheek in enough to bite at the inside, actually considering his perspectives.

Before he could register it, he'd already rolled around on his mat, eyes burning holes into your back. A shaky hand reached out, his breath catching in his throat as he fought the desire to examine, squeeze, grope… He groaned softly, reminding himself that this was an endeavor driven by pure curiosity. You were asleep and would be none the wiser as long as he was careful.

The mantra kept repeating itself. This was curiosity, and nothing more. Curiosity about why you had that blasted effect on his mind, and if pursuing physical intimacy would solve his inability to sleep. It was a need akin to hunger, satisfy it and he'd be left alone.

There was already an uncomfortable tightness in the front of his pants, the feeling unfamiliar and invasive. Instinct kicked in and made his hips buck a little, erection rubbing against the confines of his pants. Archons he needed more than this. It infuriated him to no end, body craving the feeling of you against him.

He shifted closer, needing to know if you felt as divine as everything in him screamed. He had to bite down on his own arm, sharp teeth threatening to break skin as his other hand ghosts along your waist. How it had snaked under your blanket without his knowledge was lost on him, which only fueled the heat traveling along his skin.

You were unimaginably warm and pliant under his touch, fingers sinking a little deeper. Everything in his body tingled, an almost magnetic pull spurring him on to shift closer. Your breaths were still even, body vulnerable and his for the taking.

It felt like sacrilege as his hands worshipped your form, pupils dilated when his palm slides across your soft stomach, somehow already under your shirt. Just a little more. He needed some reaction from you, assurance that this was real. That he hadn't inhaled spores and was caught in a hallucination. How terribly unbefitting such a fate would be.

But that would likely entail cutting this experiment short, meaning he'd have to ignore those urges for now. Everything was foreign and uncomfortable, a tightness straining against the front of his boxers. He had to close his eyes, unwilling to watch as his hips buck tentatively, a low hiss passing his lips at the slight friction provided by the fabric.

Still too reluctant to move closer, he settles for sliding his hand further up. It was ridiculous how your skin got even softer the closer he moved to your chest. There was something repulsively human about the way your heart felt as it beat steadily under his twitching fingers. He wanted to throw up.

He needed to get closer. Holding his breath while inching closer, wishing he could sink his nails into your skin and tear it from the muscle. A need to expose exactly what made you this infuriatingly irresistible.

Your scent brought on an almost euphoric state, warm and comfortable as it caressed him. It had to be preserved, your body too ephemeral for this world. He groaned, still careful enough to angle his head away from the back of your neck.

Temptation had him firmly in its grasp, hips meeting the plush of your ass. Slowly, deliberately, he rolled his hips against you. It sent him reeling, a pleasant fog creeping into his mind. He couldn't find it in himself to resist, hands slowly moving back down to your hips and adjusting your position.

He felt alive, burying the part of him that bled out with every slow buck of his hips. The wet patch that had been forming at the front of his boxers did nothing to quell the beast piloting his body. Daring to look down between your bodies, he found nothing but fuel for his frenzy in the way your body curved. The way it looked when he let his fingers squeeze your hips a little further, utterly transfixed by the indentations it made.

Everything in his mind screamed at him to let go and back away. Not for your sake, no you were still blissfully unaware, a tired little creature. No, the longer he continued the more certain he became that this had to be preserved. There had to be a way to mimic it, reverse engineer what made it impossible for him to keep his face out of your hair.

He inhaled deeply, intoxicated as he kept bucking against you, delirious mind too far gone to notice the little huffs and whimpers that left your lips, sleep clearly disturbed by his movements.

It's a dangerous battle, fingertips playing with the hem of your panties. It was imperative that he knew all details. It was too warm, burning his skin and making his stomach churn. There was nothing practiced about it, tentatively tugging and rubbing. Your soft squirming was nothing against him, body curling greedily around you.

Quick to pull his hand back out, he settles for massaging your thighs. His hold was steadily morphing to mimic the vultures of his birthplace, nails sinking in like talons. Tear you to pieces, that was what he needed to do.

He barely realized that he'd begun softly chanting your name, the word a prayer upon his parted lips. It was all too much, uncoordinated movements growing even sloppier as he found himself unable to stop. An overwhelming feeling was building in the pit of his stomach, drowning out every uncertainty that made its home there.

Pure ecstasy was all he felt, head pressed against your shoulder as he came. His nails were stained with your blood when his hands finally released your form. He slowly came to, repulsion filling his entire being at the wet sensation. There was nothing but simple, temporary pleasure to be gained from this endeavor. Expecting anything more profound had been folly.

So this clarity was the price to be paid for his actions?

No.

The real price was paid when he heard your confused voice, the pale moonlight too invasive in the way it lingered along your trembling body. How it reflected in the shimmering droplets of blood running from atop your hip. Small sniffles mixing with your terribly soft voice.

"Z-zandik? What just… why is my back wet? a-and I'm bleeding?"

Part 2

[dottoresdiscordkitten69]

WARNINGS: AFAB READER, PWP, SEX

WORDS: 2.8K

Finished reports sat neatly in a folder, and that folder was tapped rhythmically by your fingers as you walked into the lab.

Though once you walked in, no one was there.

No Dottore, no clones lurking around or even one of his lab rats sitting motionless on the tables. Just you and those buzzing ceiling lights.

Deciding to just leave the folders on his desk and a quick note explaining what they were, your shoes clicked against the constantly waxed floor. Leaning over the desk slightly, you fumbled with the pens in the wooden cup.

Clumsy fingers eventually grabbing hold on one, you sigh and find a notepad, tearing off of the pad and beginning writing. Pausing every now and then to remember details, knowing your boss was a bit nosey himself, wanting to know every little thing.

Eventually inviting yourself to sit on his chair, you were a bit startled by how warm the seat was, he must’ve gotten up recently. This was motivation to finish the note quickly, then you would’ve spent a solid two and a half minutes writing a note just to have to tell Dottore the longer version as well.

Pressing the pen beside the last word, you finally finished. A small groan left your lips as you stretched, arms raised in the air. As you lowered them back down, your eyes fell on the cup right next to the pen you dropped with much vigor. Subconsciously licking your lips, your throat began asking your brain to take a look, just to see if there was anything inside to quench its thirst.

Reaching out for the cup, your fingertips brushed against the cold ceramic, dragging it closer to you. Taking in the color, it looked to be a light brown, but not to an alarming degree. Wafting the scent, you were immediately hit with the familiar musk of coffee, something Dottore and his clones seemed to be drowning themselves in.

Surely, surely he wouldn’t notice a small sip gone from his drink. Not that it mattered what you thought, your hands already cupped the mug and brought it to your lips. Without a second thought for the consequences did you let the liquid fall on your tongue and slip down your throat.

Making a gag noise and sticking your tongue out, the coffee was bitter, but you were refreshed. Getting out of Dottore’s chair, you hurried off towards the door, but were promptly met with a harsh swing, almost sending you flying to the floor.

Regaining your balance, your eyes fell on Dottore looking through files in one hand, his other arm wrapped around a plant vase as clones dispersed from the other room, filling the lab within seconds as they floated to their own stations like clockwork. Taking a quick look, “ Where were you all?” You asked, head slightly tilting.

Dottore’s mask blocked the view of his mask, but you were able to tell he was giving you some type of stare. His lips thinned, waving the paper in front of your face to take it. Once you did, he began walking back to his desk. “I was collecting a sample, but I required help in holding down the subject.”

Your lips formed a silent ‘ah’ as he explained. He rambled his mouth about it for a moment, it was honestly getting tiring. That's when he suddenly called a clone over, waving him over with his free hand. As the clone planted his feet next to you, you noticed it was one of them without the mask covering their eyes. You enjoyed seeing your reflection in their crystal clear vermillion eyes, which prompted you to wave to him.

His head turned, giving you the hint of a smile. But this happened to be the moment he missed Dottore handing him the plant, the original’s head turned reading off a document on where to place it and instructions on how it should be treated.

The lab went silent, the only sound being the echoing of ceramic colliding with the ground. Dottore turned his head slowly, you both could tell he was looking down at the plant’s soil sprawled all over the ground.

His head suddenly snapped towards you, “Fix it” He ordered.

When cleaning a few months back, you managed to connect with a Dendro vision from one of his experiments, he allowed you to keep it.

You nodded frantically, crouching down to collect the soil and the plant and reform it. Activating your vision was another story though, the soil took the form of a vase, but it instantly crumbled as you let out a sharp yelp and hugged your stomach.

Neither Dottore nor his clone said anything, the clone just scurried off to go get cleaning supplies.

Dottore’s gloved hand harshly gripped your shoulder, taking you out of your hunched over position and pushing you hard against the cabinets of his desk, head banging against the cold metal. The feeling made you groan, your eyes were shut until this moment but the harsh light of the ceiling above pried your eyes open.

It wasn’t til you opened your eyes did you notice how fast your heart was, how heavy your breathing was. All you felt earlier once you used your vision as just how hot your core felt. Now that heat spreads to your face, your chest and even ears the longer you gazed at your boss.

Dottore’s mouth felt agape slightly, that's when you whined and leaned forward again, seeking out the warmth his touch gave you.

As your hands grabbed his, bringing it closer to your face, all the harbinger could do was stare. It was complete silence for a moment, all you could hear was the beating of your own heart and the buzzing of those damn lights.

“Fuck”

He muttered the word over and over again, he stood up, swiping his hand away from you. As he stood up to walk into his other office, wanting to avoid the problem entirely. His legs paused, hearing you whined out his name. Your legs wobbled pathetically as you hoisted yourself up, using the corner of his desk to try and stand yourself up.

Everything was overwhelming, the buzzing, the lights and the fact that the bastard won’t come back over here and hide you from it all.

He had been staring, but he pulled his head away again and kept his focus on the door ahead. Gloved hand twisting the doorknob, he was greeted by his ginger haired co-worker, standing there with his hands cupped together. “‘Morning!” He said, overly peppy. “Do you have some extra paper? My office just ran out and my errand girl is out right now..Could I borrow some?”

Dottore opened his mouth for a minute, about to tell Childe to go and fetch it himself. But as he turned around to go and look at his own supply, he saw you, pathetically catching your breath on the ground, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.

Then he thought about it, the last person that needed to be around you was Childe. No, you would actually need Childe in a situation like this.

It was Childe he didn’t want you to be around.

The man said it himself, his little errand girl was out, he could spare a few minutes fixing you right up. But Dottore didn’t want that. He didn’t want his little errand girl happily getting relief from someone else, he began imagining it.

The way your nails would dig into his shoulders and back, the way his moan would spill out your lips like some kind of unholy prayer. The way your body would shake around his shaft, milking him,

The way you would cling to him like you needed him.

God, he needs you

Dottore shook his head. “No, my clones ate all my papers, ask Capitano.” He shut the door before Childe could process the first words.

Right after shutting the door, Dottore made a B-line to you. Watching your form be huddled under the desk, he almost felt bad, almost. It was something more of some type of instinct wanting to keep you to himself.

He hired you, he trained you and promoted you. He held your hands, teaching you how to do his signature for when he was too busy too. And he held your hand, guiding you and helping you off those high carriages at events when your dress was just a bit too long.

You basically belong to him at this point, whether you like it or not he’s taking you back to one of the more private rooms.

He usually wasn’t like this, not at all. The normal Dottore would’ve left you to fend for yourself, let Childe come in there and whisk you off somewhere else.

It was a blur, now he’s got your arms wrapped around his neck. The walk from the lab to the room was gone and forgotten, but all that matters now is you in his arms. You nestled your head into his neck, whining from the contact, his fingers snaked under your chin and tilted it up to meet his masked gaze. “You understand these are the effects of those plants, and not your own feelings–”

You groaned and threw your head back a bit, “I’m aware…” His fingers caressed your jaw, sounds coming out of you that you never knew you were able to produce.

“You can go ahead…Let's get this over with.” Giving him permission was all he needed.

His lips attached to yours, hands leaving your face and jumping down to start undressing you. Gloved fingers undoing buttons as his teeth nipped and tongue swirled at your mouth. It was messy, extremely messy. The sounds of your lips meeting then parting, the constant gasps for air and those noises in between.

Dottore got your top layer off, not bothering to put it somewhere neatly, he opted for half mindly throwing it across the room. His mouth traveled down from your lips to your neck, letting his teeth mark it up as his hands needily undid your pants, easily sliding them down your legs.

He pulled his face away, you were confused for a moment. Though it didn’t last long.

Your hands flew over your mouth, though it was no use, hearing your own whines of pleasure echo around the room. He had spread your thighs apart and put his head between them, his mouth teasing your core with his hot breath.

The overload of pleasure was too much, you felt your senses go into overdrive, your fingers digging into his hair as you searched for something to latch onto. As wobbly moans left you, Dottore’s hand gripped your thighs, squeezing them and hoisting them over his shoulders. Your top half falling back onto the cold table, the temperature running onto your skin and causing you to shiver.

He muttered curses under his breath, hands leaving your body. They traveled down his own, finding purchase at his zipper and hastily undoing it. His belt had to go as well, a few more sounds of shuffling and you looked up, seeing the harbinger desperately grind against your clothed cunt as he held your hips in place.

Soon, a smile graced his face. “Look at that..” Your ears burned with his deep laugh. “Right here…” His gloved fingers pressed into the soaked spot, causing you to throw your head back, fingers grasping for something to hold onto as your voice erupted with begging, pleading and everything in between.

His gloved fingers hooked both sides of your underwear, pulling them and throwing them off to the side of the room with your other clothes. His grin got wider, lifting his hand to his mouth, he pulled the gloves off with his teeth. He spit on his fingers and wasted no time sliding them into you.

A yelp left your lips, music to his ears. He felt your walls convulse and twitch around him, the warmth of his fingers and cold spit were very welcome. When he began to move them, he was fascinated by the way your legs twitched and you let out particular sounds as he went in certain directions.

What would you do if he curled his fingers? Would you squirm? Would you yelp? Or would you…

Oh

He was taken aback by how quickly you managed to spasm on just his fingers. He knew that the plant he got was quite potent but he never expected…This. He was getting greedy now, his fingers curled and prodded all those sensitive spots that had your back arching and fingers scrambling for surfaces that you knew you couldn’t get.

Pulling his fingers out, he licked the tip of them. Smiling with a cocky smirk, lowering his hands in your direction. “Dear, open up..” His voice was like a siren’s to you at this moment, you followed as he said and opened your mouth, eyes locked on his smile.

His hand crawled further up your hips, ingraining his finger prints on your waist.Your mind knew what was coming, thats why your tongue swirled around his fingers, letting him know you needed this.

Dottore’s free hand held his shaft, wondering how your body would respond once he finally bottomed out. He could basically taste it, how much needier you would become, your whines becoming louder and begging for more.

Shaky breaths left you, feeling as he buried himself in, inch by inch. Your mind was turning to mush, the pure heat of everything melting you inside and out. You babbled for more, probably, even though you didn’t know what you wanted him to do at this point.

All you knew was that you wanted him.

You bucked your hips, eyes filling with tears as you felt something you’ve never felt. His fingers traced down your waist, getting close to your hole. “Look at this…” He said, his voice oddly warm. His hand pressed down, hard. You let out a choked whine, struggling to catch your breath as he snapped his hips against yours.

Not that it hurt, or maybe it did, the pain and pleasure were mixing together at this point and you didn’t mind. Both of Dottore’s hands held your waist, no signs of stopping as his hips met yours, that sound of skin slapping against skin he didn’t think he needed for so long. No he yearned for it, he yearned for more of it.

The way you were reaching out for him, it was pathetic. “You’re pathetic..” He muttered. Grabbing your legs and sliding them closer to him, his hands held you as your hands wrapped around his neck once again.

Your chin rested on his shoulder, he got to hear all of his new favorite noises. He got to feel the way your body took him again and again, his hands guided your thighs on and off his hardness. Each moan out of you was a deep grunt or groan out of him, he couldn’t get enough.

He was drunk on you at this point, the very feeling of you was addicting. He cared little for the act of intimacy, but he’d be doing it a lot more often now with his favorite assistant.

Dottore’s head turned towards your ear, a devious smile on his lips. “Good girl…Just like that..” His teeth nipped at your ear. “Stay still, I’m going–”

Your legs tightened around his waist, heading shaking as your took in that deep musk of coffee he always had lingering around him. “No..Please just..” You swallowed and leaned your head against his neck. “Inside..”

He froze, his eyes widened under the mask, his mouth opened for a minute before he promptly shut it. “Needy, needy, needy..” He tsked, turned his head away, smiling as he sped up his movements.

Hips bucking and your walls tightening around him. It seemed you were going to be finishing with him, how poetic.

You heard his breathing picking up in your ear, that's when you raised your head and brought your hand to his cheek. Grabbing his chin and lowering it down to your lips, his tongue rushed inside your mouth.

The harbinger swallowed each and every noise that came from you, feeling the vibration of your mouth against his as you reacted to the warmth quickly filling you. Everytime you pulled away to get one or two breaths, you were quickly pulled back into that embrace by Dottore.

He finally emptied himself, you had a moment of peace before you felt that familiar feeling of quick movement, hands gripping your legs to slide you up and down his seemingly forever hard-on.

Fingers scratching his back, you whined and whimpered. It didn’t take long for you to begin muttering his name, he took extreme pride in this. “Hm..? Can’t you hear you..” His voice teased.

You groaned, throwing your head back as your body lifted up and down, making it hard to focus on the words you wanted out. “Fuck…Dottore Fuck!”

The harbinger’s own head got thrown back, relishing the moment he got with having you so needy like this. “That, I can definitely do for you..”

[blzzrdstryr]

hey, what about the harbingers of fatui, when they find out that someone tried to poison the reader, but still failed to kill

CW: Torture and death

All of them will be livid, Darling will be put under the utmost care with constant vigil of doctors and nurses, the poisoner will die. The main difference is how long the poisoner will live before meeting their end.

Childe will probably kill them in a fit of anger, seeing red, the abyss in him thrumming and roaring, someone will have to drag him from the mangled corpse, bc he won't stop with their death.

Pantalone and Arlecchino will probably torture the fool for hours. They will oversee the entire process with the cold and distant demeanor, slowly memorizing each small detail, before giving a curt order to put the poisoner out of their misery.

Columbina will hold the poisoner captive, letting them to witness the destruction of everything they have ever loved. Columbina won't stop at anything or anyone - she'll ruin everything they could've held dear. Family, friends, even neighbours and colleagues - she will whisper to them how it's all their fault as she will throw at them one magled body to another. And then, once they beg her to kill them, she will comply with their request, but fo it in the most painful way possible, stretching seconds of agony into hours.

Now, Sandrone and Il Dottore are the worst in this list, because they won't kill the poisoner in the literal sense - they will destroy their personhood, their humanity and identity, turn them into a thing, sort of I have no mouth and I must scream abomination.

[boundinparchment]

Blasphemous Rumors - VI

“Marry me.” He said it with such blasé that you weren’t sure you heard him correctly.  Silence surrounded the two of you and he leaned down and tilted his head, watching you like a specimen under a microscope. “Just for a year.  A marriage of convenience.  Consider it nothing more than a harmless experiment for the sake of curiosity.” Il Dottore/Female reader with established personality.  Slow-ish burn.  Semi-enemies to lovers. RATING MATURE, TO CHANGE; MINORS DNI. On AO3 here. Likes, reblog, and comments appreciated.

It apparently already had, judging by the silence that dominated the carriage ride the following morning. 

A maid had seen to the heavy drapes just as you were sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing your eyes.  For a moment, you forgot about your attire (or lack thereof) and your face grew hot at the servant’s giggle when she reconvened with her coworker, who was setting up breakfast in the other room.

You caught an exchange about a rumpled bed and briefly, you turned your head to note that last night gave the proper appearance of a wedding night well-spent.  At least your brief encounter had been useful in some regard.

And now, several hours later, you were still en route to who knew where.  The snow had given way to lush highlands some hours prior, the hills green and teeming with wildlife.  Lord Dottore never told you where you would be spending the next few weeks, just that he made arrangements based on a selection of the Tsaritsa’s holdings.  Your boss gave you a wide smile of unfortunate reassurance; Lord Dottore had done something correctly.

The only thing keeping your mind at ease was the knowledge that, even this far away from the Palace, it would be silly to attempt to kill you.  For this agreement between you to work, you had to be seen and known.  Therefore, it was beneficial to him to keep you alive.

You passed through a town, the people lively and the houses painted bright.  The air here felt a little warmer and flowers crawled up trellises, spilled out of window boxes.  It almost passed for Mondstadt, what you recalled of it.  No one here seemed as carefree as they were in the nation of Anemo but the Tsaritsa’s gaze did not travel here; the instant their eyes caught sight of the carriage, backs straightened and heads lowered but it was not the same deference afforded in the main city.

Lord Dottore had spoken little other than a compulsory morning greeting.  He had one ankle settled over a knee and a book open, the pages worn and the spine cracked.  Most of the ride consisted of regular intervals of page-turning and muttering.  But now, you could sense his hidden gaze was on you as you looked out the carriage window.

“You look as though you’ve never left the Palace,” he quipped.

“Usually such travel is by ship,” you replied, eyes glued to the window.  “I only saw photographs of this region but they don’t do it justice.”

If you looked at him, you knew you would recall last night in startingly detail again.  You were acutely aware of a distinct sensation between your legs and while that had not been the driving force behind why you straddled him, it was a consequence that lingered longer than preferred.  He hit the nail on the head about being needy and the second he knew, a good chunk of leverage was gone.

But to not make eye contact would be rude.  Make the entire thing more awkward.  You never avoided his gaze before and you couldn’t start now.

You tore your gaze away from the passing buildings and looked across the carriage at your husband.  He was dressed more casually than you initially thought, sleeves rolled to his elbows, his cravat gone, and the first two buttons of his shirt undone.  In your several years of working with him and every Segment, you never once saw bare skin from him that was not just a portion of his face.  Fleetingly, you wondered what it would feel like to press your lips against his collarbone and you wished you had been brave enough last night to try.

“It’s far greener than anyone gives it credit for,” you said.

The extra second that lingered sent a jolting throb through you.  You schooled your features and returned your attention to the window when you received nothing more than a hum of acknowledgement. 

Maybe he should kill you after all, you mused.  At least then you wouldn’t have lingering thoughts about his lips and how warm he had been beneath you.

Thankfully, the carriage stopped just on the outskirts of the town, just past a checkpoint with Fatui presence.  Your destination was just far enough away on foot that it was possible to walk into town, if one wished or had need to. 

Lord Dottore climbed out first (he couldn’t get out quickly enough) and helped you out of the carriage.  As soon as your feet touched the ground, his hand was gone from yours, as if touching you was tantamount to setting himself on fire. 

Your heart gave a little squeeze as your eyes settled on, not a large manor as would have been fitting, but a stone cottage a little further down the hill, close to the beach.  Still larger than the convention, the building looked as if it had been there for centuries.  It was made of the same rounded, uneven stones as the wall surrounding the property, with a gable roof and several chimneys.  Cozy.  And if the arrangements were made by anyone else, romantic might have come to mind.

You tried not to think about how the aquamarine of your ring matched almost perfectly to the shutters flanking every window.

Lord Dottore stood next to you, neck craned back, seemingly examining the sky.  You swallowed as your eyes traced his Adam’s apple.  He looked every part relaxed and casual, a Harbinger without most of his trappings finally on vacation to anyone with an untrained eye. 

Just before his attention was stolen by the driver and the house’s caretaker, he said, “You may want to stop gawking and head inside, my dear, before it rains.  Unless you wish to be drenched.”

You hadn’t missed the way the corner of his lips quirked as you turned and made your way down to the house, gravel crunching underfoot. 

The rest of the house was as expected and contained all the additional amenities expected of a property owned by an Archon.  It retained its charm in the exposed trestles and plaster walls, in the stonework fireplaces and wooden floors.  When it wasn’t raining, you could imagine the cool breeze passing through open windows, a reprieve from the icy chill of the western capitol and its mountains. 

A pang ran through you as you felt the familiar sensation of wood grain against bare feet and heard the crack of a lot in the fireplace.  For a moment, you swore you smelled your mother’s cooking.

Were they okay, you wondered.  Had the money arrived on time?  Were they properly prepared for the rest of the winter?

You smiled and greeted the housekeeper when she spotted you, your mind split between making sure you said the right thing and filing away important thoughts for when you were alone.

Or as alone as one could be as a Harbinger’s wife.

She showed you around the house and introduced you to the cook.  The staff lived outside of the main house, she said, but were connected to the network of bells that ran through the property; if anything was required, they would be notified.

“Your Lord Husband has offered to replace the system for Her Majesty many times but the Tsaritsa prefers the less intrusive system of pullies and bells,” the housekeeper remarked.  “Nothing can fail if the power grid is offline.”

Out here, the lights were dimmer and many things still relied on burning wood for the oven or heating.  There was a charm to it, a reminder of the world outside of Sneznhaya’s great technological achievements. 

The first floor contained the usual spaces of a dining room and sitting room.  A secluded sandy alcove was accessible only through the set of glass double doors tucked into a far wall, out of the way.  The house seemed to have been built with the cliffside in mind, the side of the building meeting the cliff to provide shelter from the rain.  It afforded a private pathway into the house from the shore or even a small hideaway.  Supposedly, the best sun rises could be seen only from there. 

You were shown two smaller bedrooms on the second floor, tidy and spartan.  The owner suite and its attached washroom and study were last; your things were already neatly arranged at the foot of the bed.

“I’ll leave you to unpack, my lady.”

The floors creaked gently underfoot as the housekeeper bowed and left you to your own devices in the larger bedroom.  Rain pelted the windows and absorbed the remaining silence as you took in the exposed dark beams and furniture. 

And the bed.  Intended for two.

Your eyes drifted to the couch in the study.  While the maids had found you properly disheveled this morning, this house was smaller and the staff much more loyal, that much was clear.  You would at least have to truly sleep next to one another to make this convincing.

A frown tugged at your lips and you pushed it away quickly as you brought your attention back to your awaiting belongings. 

Unpacking took far less time than you expected it to (although you weren’t sure why).  It wasn’t as if you owned all that many clothes.  In hindsight, you wished Lord Dottore told you about the climate of where you were going.  At least you had enough dresses to cycle through, you supposed.

Lord Dottore’s things, as sparse as yours, glared at you in the dim light of the room.  Were you expected to unpack for him?  Did he do that himself?  Or did a servant?  You ran your fingers over the latches and found a hidden lock.

That answered that, then.  So much for snooping.

When you returned downstairs, you heard a distinct timber mixing with the cook’s voice.  You rounded the corner and went down the hall to find Lord Dottore kneeling on the floor, his entire upper half stuck into the open oven.  He retreated and stood in one smooth motion before he turned a knob in the oven’s control panel.  The distinct smell of fuel hit your senses and you heard a soft woosh.

“That one should last longer, at the very least,” Lord Dottore drawled as he stepped back.  “The ignitor is easy enough to replace but it would be more efficient and befitting of Her Majesty if—”

From your vantage point in the doorway, the cook smiled and waved a hand; such a gesture anywhere in the Palace would be inexcusable and yet neither of them flinched. 

As they walked over to the storage rooms, they said, “Yes, Lord Harbinger, but the food would taste different and no one would be thankful for that!”

Your husband’s striking profile was broken only by the ghost of a smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth.  When he turned, you hated how your heart tugged at the sight of his upturned lips; the moment was stolen when lightning cracked and took the lights with a distinctive pop, the house going dark.

“Never a dull moment?” you whispered, unable to hide the single huff of laughter that escaped you.

“Out here, I certainly can never complain of being bored,” Lord Dottore replied.

He moved instinctively and closed the distance between you, his mask’s beak grazing your nose in the darkness.  His breath was hot on your lips when he spoke. 

“Between your antics and the house, dorogáya moya, I think I’ll be quite occupied.”

You didn’t miss his low chuckle when he stepped around you and left the kitchen, lips grazing your cheek. 

Dinner was late but truly made you question the skills of the Palace’s kitchen staff.  Or perhaps it was just the fact that you’d eaten so little throughout the day.  Either way, the food was delicious.

And the bed was soft, warm.  Too warm.

Or maybe you just weren’t used to sleeping next to someone.

“We’re adults, are we not?” your husband had said.  “Unless you intend to accost me again.”

“Who was the one who cut my cheek with a letter opener?”

“Oh, please.  You can hardly see the scar.”

Words came so easily when you were alone, just like they did when you were in your office bickering over line items.  But you shouldn’t, couldn’t, push your luck.  You still needed to be able to gather information and if you weren’t careful, you’d be doing this all for nothing.  Or rather, strictly for his benefit.

And the last thing you wanted was to help a Fatui Harbinger.

If you moved the wrong way, your foot brushed his.  He was so tall that, when he curled up, his knees or feet encroached on your half.  Heat radiated from his side and you did everything you could to resist the urge to draw closer.  Nights in Snezhnaya were cold, no matter where one was on a map, and with the onslaught of rain, a chill lingered that never seemed to die.

His feet, perfectly warm and with proper circulation clearly, found your frigid ones by accident as you drifted off.  You heard the displeased grunt from the other side of the bed but he didn’t pull away; he arranged his feet around yours with a huff before he muttered something in a language you didn’t know.  The words tickled your neck.

You swallowed and tried to push away that disastrous ache from the carriage ride.  Ridiculous.  You were not this needy, not in the weeks leading up to the wedding, and certainly not when the Harbinger walked into your office.

Somehow, despite the trepidation and arousal that danced through your veins, you fell asleep. 

And you woke to a dark gray pall of overcast, squeezing your thighs in hopes of taking the edge off the now brutal-throbbing.

The bed felt colder and you sat up and reached out a hand.  The other side of the bed was empty, a ghost of the presence lingering in the sheets.  He hadn’t been away long.  But when he left the bedroom the night of the wedding, he hadn’t returned and Lord Dottore didn’t seem one for much sleep.

When you didn’t hear the floorboards creak for a minute or two, nor see any faint light, you carefully delved and you let your fingers trace your sex.  You went rigid when you felt how wet you were.  Of all times and circumstances…nothing was appealing about this situation in the slightest, you needed to keep a clear head, and yet your body craved release?  Seriously?

It was nothing you couldn’t give yourself, of course.  One of the joys of a private room in the Palace dorms had been no one overhearing or accidentally catching eye contact with you.

Your eyes locked with the bedroom door.  Ajar. 

But this never took long…

You bit your lip to keep a gasp at bay when you got your knees and pushed in a single finger, and then another, hot velvet wrapping around your digits.  Your other hand joined, middle finger finding your clit with practiced ease as you pumped, finding a familiar rhythm.  Soft pants mingled with the wet slick sounds that only made you buck your hips, demanding more of yourself. 

A flash of the previous night flitted across your vision when you closed your eyes.  For a moment, the memory tore itself apart and became something else, Lord Dottore’s body hard and hot atop yours, and instead of pulling away, he lifted your legs and—

Your mouth ripped open in a silent scream as you stroked the perfect spot, shuddering and clenching hard around your fingers.  That only seemed to make the ache worse and you pushed yourself over the edge twice more for good measure.

You stiffened at a sound in the hallway just as the third orgasm washed away.  One of the stairs, you surmised.  Another followed and you darted out of bed and towards the washroom.

Good thing, too, you thought, as your eyes met your reflection.

Messy hair was one thing but your face bore every tell-tale sign of what you had been doing.  Flushed cheeks, wide eyes, inability to catch your breath.  There was no mistaking this for waking from a nightmare, that was certain.

The shower was a better place for future refuge, you realized, your gaze drifting to the glass and tile.  Or the bath…that tub looked perfect for a long soak…

You washed up and tried to press a cold washcloth to your face.  After your wedding night, one of the last things you wanted was to be seen with an afterglow; it would prove Lord Dottore right and likely insult him, even if he said that he was not interested in a perfect stranger.  It was the polite thing to do, wasn’t it?

Not that his opinion mattered but you couldn’t blatantly display how little you truly cared for the whole façade.  Not when you’d only begun.

Satisfied that you looked sufficiently normal, you returned to the bedroom to find a steaming cup of coffee on your bedside, along with a note.

Don’t take too long.  Unless, of course, you enjoy breakfast cold.

Several days into the stay, you rounded a corner one afternoon only to bump straight into Dottore himself.  Instead of colliding, he turned slightly and your back met the cool plaster wall, a hair’s width between the two of you as his hands rested on your hips.  Enough space for him to officially say he wasn’t touching you anywhere else but, at a glance, would fool anyone.

“Are you always this careless, dorogáya moya?  Do you bump into Palace walls on a regular basis?”

The tip of his mask scratched your nose and you scrunched your face at the sensation.

“Do you, my lord?” you threw back, angling your head in an obnoxious attempt to see beneath the face covering.  “After all, I’m not the one with my eyes covered.”

“I see perfectly fine, thank you.”

Dottore pulled up to his full height and looked down at you, your vantage point gone.  You’d caught a glimpse of his nose, aquiline in shape, but nothing else.  For a moment, you imagined the lower portion of his mask gone and wondered why, of all things, he hid that along with his eyes.  His profile was probably quite striking…

Perfect for striking fear into people’s hearts, you dolt.  Get a grip!

You didn’t reply but he didn’t pull away either.  The heat emanating from him was overwhelming, a sharp contrast to the cool wall behind you.  For a man so calculated, who spent most of his time in freezing temperatures down in his laboratories, he ran warm.  Too warm.  Was he sick?

What did you care, you asked yourself.  The man deserved to be a little under the weather once in a while after all of the headaches he caused you.  In fact, considering he was so crucial to several of your own employer’s plans, you hoped he was sick.

Before you could get another word out of your mouth, Dottore tilted his head and captured your lips with his in one swift motion.  His hands moved from your hips to your waist, and one reached for your neck to keep your head angled up at him.  Without prompting, his tongue grazed your lips and as soon as you gasped at the sensation, all you could taste was him. 

This was nothing like the kiss on your wedding day.  That had been gentle, efficient, chaste.

Your head spun as your hands reached for something, anything, as Dottore’s tongue brushed yours in exploratory hunger.  Breathless, your fingers found purchase in the fabric of his shirt and he pinned you against the wall, hips pressing into you. 

That infernal aching need seared through you, your body betraying you.  No, not again.

When you pulled away, gasping for air, he had the gall to laugh.  It was a low rumble that sat in his chest and vibrated against you.  He drank in your expression, his tongue pressed against his teeth as he gave a sharp-toothed grin.

Absolute bastard. 

“Do be more careful next time,” he teased before he stole another kiss, teeth dragging against your bottom lip.

His hand let go of your neck and you stepped around him, aware of every nerve ending now screaming for more.

You didn’t look back as you continued the way you were going and returned upstairs.

In the privacy of a cold shower, you finished what both of you started. 

Anyone else would have given in, you were certain; or at least anyone else would not have taken as long as you did beneath the water, scrubbing your skin until it was almost raw.  He shouldn’t have touched you, shouldn’t have kissed you, shouldn’t have grinned like a victor over the spoils of a long day’s work.

And you shouldn’t have whispered his title as you came, wishing it was his fingers deep inside you instead.

You wished it got easier.  You really did.

When the sun finally peered out from behind the clouds, you settled into the sand and spent an entire afternoon basking in the warmth.  It was difficult if not impossible to ever get this up at the capitol and you were eager to soak in every ray you could. 

Lord Dottore joined you one morning, his pants rolled up painstakingly, silently holding out a cup of coffee to you.  You did a double-take but took the mug.  It was too early for the cook to be awake; you knew the schedules by now.  The sun was barely over the horizon, still pink with morning glow. 

“Did you make this?” you asked softly, looking down into the scalding liquid.

Lord Dottore clicked his tongue as he shifted his weight and remained standing.  Out of the corner of your eye, you caught his colors of choice for the day and was surprised to find he only wore a white shirt, gray waistcoat, and gray pants.  Like what one of his younger Segments typically dressed in.

“You sound surprised that I’m capable of such a feat,” he replied, and you weren’t entirely certain that the bitterness of his words was entirely playful.  “I was planning on going into town today.  A change of pace.  You can mail those letters that have been piling up; no doubt your parents want to hear from you.”

He made it sound as if you had an obnoxious stack of letters; in reality, it was only three.  Two for your parents and one for the Tsaritsa, full of thank you’s and kind regards for allowing you the use of one of her summer homes, no matter how humble.

As planned, you had nothing else to send, nothing else written.  You could not risk a paper trail, not here when the two of you were expected to be together most of the time, and where most of the staff were loyal to the Tsaritsa Herself.

There was not much information to send anyway.  Dottore took his Harbinger meetings or any important missives at the guard house, away from you and away from staff who might eavesdrop.  If you were going to gather any intel, it would not be on your honeymoon.

The view of the town when you first arrived had been beautiful and now that the weather was favorable, you had no doubt that the flowers would be brighter and the hills more vibrant.

“That sounds like a great idea.  I wouldn’t mind looking around if you can spare the time.  I rarely get to do much else when I travel other than stare at spreadsheets,” you replied.  “Unless you think—”

“It is time I allotted, and therefore it is not expensive,” Dottore deadpanned.  “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

You took a thoughtful sip of coffee before you looked back up at him.

“Not in this lifetime and probably not the next.”

He sighed dramatically and his head lolled back.  “Married for all of two weeks and already haunting me.  What a dutiful spouse you’re turning out to be.”

You masked a laugh with the rim of your cup and you swore you caught his head turn to you, watching you.  When you glanced towards him, Dottore was looking out towards the ocean again, one hand in his pocket.

“We’ll leave after breakfast,” he said, and turned away, trudging carefully through the sand back to the house.

Once you ate, the two of you made your way off the property, gravel crunching under your boots as you walked to the guardhouse where a carriage stood.  The ride itself was uneventful, quiet, except for the occasional interjection about local landscape.  You drew closer to town and the air changed, suddenly filled with the familiar scents of baked bread and spun sugar along with damp hay. 

Back home, you would have smelled charcoal and roasting meats, along with the distinct tang of fish.

Once you left the carriage, you took Lord Dottore’s hand in your left and interlaced your fingers with his.  Your rings glinted in the morning sun.  His breath caught for the slightest moment when your palm pressed against his.  When you cast a look up at him, he appeared no different than he usually did. 

Everywhere you looked was in bloom, flowerboxes overflowing with blossoms.  Cobble-paved roads made for easy traversal and, bundle of letters clutched in your other hand, you tried to keep the excitement from bubbling over.

Not even an artist’s rendition could capture the hum of people flitting in and out of shops, pausing at stalls, children running through the streets.  There was an energy here that did not exist in the capitol, where eternal winter ruled over all, and one’s duty never thawed.

You were pulled harshly at the last minute and you corrected your footing just as you almost rolled your ankle.

“Keep your wits about you while you admire the scenery, Accountant,” Dottore muttered.  “I’m not carrying you if you break a leg.”

“I’ll be sure to make my fall look like an accident, then.  Less paperwork for you.”

He let out a breath through his nose as you continued.  Without much effort, you located a postal office and dropped off your letters.

“Did you have anything in particular you needed to do?” you asked.  “After all, this was originally your plan.”

Dottore’s obscured gaze took in your surroundings and you wished you ripped off the mask the other day.  You were always able to read him before when there was a desk between you.  But now, it was like even his mouth expressions were foreign to you, indecipherable.

“There’s a bookstore nearby that might have something of interest to a recent project along with a bakery that serves a wide variety of international treats I would prefer to visit last.  Other than those, I had no other intentions.”

“Bookstore first, then,” you held out your other hand in a gesture, silently asking him to lead the way.

He found what he was looking for and then some, the bookseller startled when they looked up at the counter to find one of their first customers of the day to be a Fatui Harbinger.  You grabbed a recently published novel on a whim, written by an individual you’d never heard of before but bearing a Fontainian publisher seal.  Without so much as asking, Dottore plucked the book from your hand and placed it atop the pile.

“I wasn’t certain if I—”

“You’ve been reading the same book twice lately.  Don’t be ridiculous, my dear.”

You weren’t even certain you would like the novel but to protest any further was poor manners and drew unnecessary attention to an otherwise kind action, you reminded yourself.  So instead, you stepped closer and took his arm, resting your head against his bicep.

As you wove your way through the streets, you stopped in a clothing boutique.  There were plenty of nice garments, soft scarves, fur-lined hats, and you tried to be demure when the shopkeeper spotted Lord Dottore and put two and two together.  Everything was of fine quality and more than once, you reached out a hand to stop him from reaching for his wallet every so often.

“I will pay for what I want,” you whispered.

“It’s hardly trouble when Pantalone will give me grief for me not spending mora on this trip.”

“Please.”

You did not want to be indebted to him, not when you had your own money, and not when you hardly had need of anything new to begin with.  The idea of working for the very man responsible for draining your parents’ coffers was abysmal enough; you tried not to openly balk at the idea of Dottore spending his mora on you and having to be reminded of the fact every time you wore something.

His jaw clenched but he relented nonetheless.

The thing about living the way you did was that you knew where and how to spend your leftover mora when you had it.  If you saved up, you could afford a pair of boots that would last for years or a lined coat that was pre-waxed for extra warmth.  Money on clothes was never ill-spent unless it was something poorly made.

And while you didn’t have much to your name, you had enough to splurge on a few new items.  Maybe even a gift for your parents.  They could always use extra blankets…

Your senses were discerning; you ran fabrics between your fingers and asked about the materials.  At the perfumer, you asked to compare the raw materials to the finished product (but not without including Dottore in the decision, given he would have to be around you if you wore it). 

Overall, you came away with a new dress, a few skirts and blouses for work, a perfume, and a down blanket for your parents. 

More than once, you felt eyes on you that didn’t belong to any shopkeeper or fellow guest.

As requested, you stopped by the bakery last, although you questioned your husband’s logic when the line was to the door.  Pastries and baked goods lined the displays and you smiled at the overwhelming smell of cinnamon and butter.  Sfogliatelle, fresh from the cooling rack and dusted with powdered sugar and rugelach caught your eye and your stomach grumbled.

No, in hindsight, Dottore’s logic made perfect sense.  It was impossible to enter this place and not be hungry.

You didn’t catch what your husband ordered but when he turned to you, you couldn’t help but ask for your favorites.

As the server went to assemble your order, you caught Dottore looking at you, lips pursed.  Of all the expressions from that day, you knew this one quite well: you puzzled him and he was keen to understand more.

“What did you order?” you asked.

“Didn’t I say to keep your wits about you, dorogáya moya?”His lips tugged into a smug smile.  “You’ll have to wait until after dinner to find out.”

It wasn’t until after dinner, when both of you were settled into the sitting room over a chess board, that the box from the bakery made its reappearance with evening drinks of choice.

Chess was often another way the two of you spent time together, especially when the weather turned tumultuous every so often.  He beat you every time, with a sole exception; it would be the only exception, he said with a smile that made the scar on your cheek burn.

Tonight would be no different.  The board was prepared and just like every other night, the opposing Queen seemed to wink at you as if it knew your secrets.

“Close your eyes,” Dottore said as he pulled at the red and white strings wrapped around the box.

When you didn’t comply and instead raised an eyebrow for explanation, he gave you a thin-lipped smile with a hint of teeth.

“Humor me, dear wife.  And remember I gain little from poisoning you.”

“Fine,” you said, closing your eyes.

You heard the box open and the rustle of wax paper as something was pulled out.  The smell of sugar and nuts danced in the air but you couldn’t quite place where you knew it from.  Against your lips, you felt something sticky.

“Open.”

When you did, you tasted flaky dough and fresh honey; everything exploded in your mouth when you took a bite and rolled around the layer of nuts against your tongue.  You knew this, grew up with this.

“Baklava?” you asked, cracking open an eye after you swallowed.

“Specifically Sumerian baklava,” Dottore clarified.  “Ajilenakh Nut rather than the usual pistachio and layered instead of rolled.  Your version is too close to so many other desserts visually.  Messier, too.”

By your version, you assumed he meant the Sneznhayan method of occasionally rolling servings of baklava, as some regions were wont to do.

“The honey is different,” you replied.  “Less floral.  I like it.  Is there no other bakery in the capitol that makes it that way?”

“Some try but they never get the right balance.  It’s too oily, more often than not.”

You watched as your husband finished off the piece he gave you, meticulous with crumbs as well as his now-sticky hand.  He jerked his head in the direction of the box off to the side, nestled near your evening tea.

“I ordered enough for both of us in the event you liked it.”

“Thank you.”

No one needed two hands to play chess but you found it amusing to watch as Dottore worked the board with a single hand, his other hovering over the box, unwilling to get crumbs everywhere.

“I find it quite interesting that you take awfully long showers as of late,” he noted absently.

Both of you stepped away to wash away the lingering sticky sugar and only just returned.  You schooled your face.  Where was this going?  Was he going to subject you to another round of embarrassing realization that your drive was pointless?

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to intrude on another’s bathing habits?” you shot back as you settled back into your seat.

“Simply an observation.”

It’s an odd observation, you thought.

It wasn’t the only one but the rest of the conversation veered towards work and you relaxed considerably.

“So what exactly is it you do when you aren’t balancing my budgets?”

He positioned a rook in perfect alignment without even thinking twice.  You assessed the board.  Your bishop had a few options, none of them consequential…the queen was a possibility…

“Auditing, mostly.  Especially when it comes to tracking the nation’s cashflow.  Multiple people rotate through every quarter but we look for logical patterns, find abnormalities, high thresholds, the like.”

“What kind of patterns, exactly?  Outliers exist, after all.  How do you identify a one-off instance versus a larger pattern with a story?”

The question felt as if he was holding a knife to your gut, prepared to not only stab but twist for good measure.  He was a scientist.  Wouldn’t he know exactly how statistics and numbers worked, how to identify trends?

If this was a meeting with Lord Pantalone, you would dance around the question.  He knew the industry, knew how the workflow was meant to be; he invented it, after all.  But you were stuck with Dottore and such things were…well…how daft would it look if someone asked him about your job and he shrugged?

You were taking too long, weren’t you?  Too much hesitation and…

Your hand plucked your bishop from its safe place and positioned it near Dottore’s rook.

“There seems to be an increase in the amount of money leaving Snezhnaya,” you said at last.  “Specifically from older families in the noble class but also…rich merchants without titles.  And not moving it from one branch of Northland to the other, either.  Just…withdrawals.  And that’s strange because it’s been happening for the better part of a year but no single branch is reporting any shortages.”

Dottore titled his head up and say back in his chair the way he did after you pointed out the cashflow issues when he asked for advances on his budgets.  He pondered on your words the way a dog chewed a bone and you realized, stomach stinking, something about this was off.

Because if that was true, if Pantalone knew, he would have taken action and made the others aware.

But your husband looked as if this was the first time he was hearing it.  A cat with a ball of yarn.

“It would seem we’re returning to interesting circumstances, then, dorogáya moya."

It’s a shame to waste all of this on a mere bet.  She outdid herself in all her planning, from the colors chosen to her dress, to the careful seating arrangements.  If no one else was convinced prior, a good portion of people would be swayed by this display alone.

Everything reflected what it was intended to.

Dramatic flairs without the striking terror. 

All things considered, that she did this willingly is commendable; it would only be fair to make this entire arrangement as painless as possible. 

After all, one usually only gets a single wedding over the course of their life.

She was stunning, the exact image expected of her when she walked down the aisle or flitted around the party, practically floating despite the weight of her dress.  And precisely because of that, I was under no impression that she would attempt anything beyond her public duty.

Even now, I am uncertain where, precisely, she obtained those garments.

To say she isn’t attractive would be like denying the sky’s color but I never once understood the point of hiding such matters.  But when she strode into the bedroom and took it upon herself to sit atop me, my eyes could not remove themselves from the way the fabric clung to her skin, how the silk and lace hid the perfect parts of her that made me all the more curious…

Such base impulses had no place in this matter.  I only needed her long enough to secure my win against Pantalone; to hold other expectations would be to create a bias that would ruin anything tangible that might be possible. 

Besides, there was no fun in sleeping with a stranger.  I never quite understood that one, despite numerous experiments on the matter.  It was far more rewarding and insightful to couple with another you knew, at least in some capacity.  One could argue that I do know her but never before I did want to shove away everything on her desk and—

Well, I certainly didn’t deserve that opportunity; I didn’t deserve anyone, especially someone willingly hovering over my body as if they understood what I wanted. 

Who in their right mind would want me, after all?

Perhaps that hadn’t been the kindest choice but it was the best one.  Even if it meant seeing her struggle with herself on the entire ride out of the city. 

Would she like it, being this far out?  Near the sea?  It was far more private, easier to defend, and the townspeople generally loved the Tsaritsa when she visited.  Instead of a large, imposing estate, I considered that perhaps something smaller and more remote might be the better alternative. 

She fit right in, with the staff and the environment, like a puzzle piece missing for too long.  The same can be said about her hand in mine.  I am unaccustomed to being touched in any capacity and yet I find myself craving more every time we break apart…

Ridiculous.  How am I meant to quantify these experiences?

She is needy, or perhaps I have been amongst myself for too long to understand the baseline existence of others.  I woke that first night, unable to get back to sleep, and slipped out of the bedroom with every intention of making coffee and sitting with some of the formulas one of the Segments slipped into my luggage.  It wasn’t as if we needed to wake up together and the staff wouldn’t be awake for a while.

But two mugs had been set out in preparation.

And she was an early riser. 

It was the polite thing to do.

When I treaded back upstairs, careful to avoid the weakest spots in the wooden floor, I caught a glimpse of her head tossed back and the distinct sound  and smell of arousal.  There was no mistaking the slick, wet sound and the quiet gasps escaping her.

It should not have elicited the reaction from me that it did, my pants uncomfortably tight as the rhythmic sounds continued, uninterrupted.  I stepped back, mindful of the floor, but it was impossible to ignore how soaked she was.

Would it have been abnormal for me to push the door open a little more, watch how she pleasures herself?  Learn so that one day, if she ever begged, I could replace her fingers with mine?  Or fill her to the brim and watch her eyes tear up with pleasure?

Her mouth was beautiful in that shape.  I counted three times, cock twitching, before she became aware of herself again and left for the washroom.

Without thinking twice, I left the mug and a hastily scrawled note, and returned downstairs before she could be any wiser.

Lest she think her husband is a monster and a lecher.   W hat she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt but she should have closed the door.

Sand is dreadful and, just as that morning’s sight was burned into my memories and seemed to be everywhere I looked, I could not escape the grains of sand in this gods-forsaken house.

In my notebooks.  In my shoes.  Everywhere.  Anywhere.

But it was impossible to observe her when we’re apart.  And so I must endure.  Here I thought I’d have escaped the feeling of grains of sand in everything once I moved to this frozen tundra. 

I disliked the beach but she never seemed to have trouble sitting for hours, reading, basking in the sun.  She smelled of the sea when she came in.

Kissing her had been…nothing short of an impulsive opportunity.  We didn’t make an effort to avoid one another but when she dared to look up at me, no traces of fear, words as sharp as daggers dancing on her tongue?

I would never silence her but she passed on her pointless need to me and it was distracting.  If I did not want to see other results, other possibilities, I might have hiked up her skirts and goaded her into admitting her own desire.  But there is more at stake here and I do not wish to see her begin to shrink at the sight of me. 

Love is…hardly a matter of an equation and I do not believe it to be possible, not in this situation.  Lust is expected, inevitable.  Easy enough to fend off.

After all, there’s few reasons she would take that long in the shower.  I’m just as culpable in that regard.

She is exacting, frugal to a fault.  If she enjoys something, would it not be prudent to simply buy the thing, rather than spend fifteen minutes feeling fabrics to discern the make and quality?  Others in her position would not make a choice and simply take everything.

Just like the book she clutched but protested against.  Clearly something about it struck her mind and she was considering it.  Why not just purchase the book and read it, then?  So many people held back.  But there is little point in doing so.  What grand day is awaiting that one cannot use the special dishes?  The fine pen and smooth parchment?  There is a need for patience and a need for enjoyment and no one seems to have ever found a balance between the two.

Including my own wife, it seems.

But it made her happy, didn’t it?

To make the choices of what she enjoyed the most.  She never felt like she made a terrible choice and she always wore a smile during the transaction, a smile that I don’t believe I’ve ever seen on her face.  Certainly not before I impulsively asked for her hand.

And to include me in the choices?  What did I matter when she would be the one wearing such things?  Using them?  I didn’t care.

Sharing the baklava might have, in hindsight, given the opposite impression.  But it would be wrong to not offer something in return when she included me.  Did one’s eyes always twinkle like that when they were taken with something?  Did hers?

Awful, this feeling.  Like my chest wants to explode. 

She’s terrible at chess.  Most are.  Pierro is one of the few who actually provides any kind of challenge.  The Accountant only managed to beat me once but in my defense, I was still recovering from that morning and could not bear looking at her lips too long.

What blasted absurdity.  Couldn’t this have waited until a year into our marriage?  There’s no making sense of any of this and it’s…

Oh, but that was quite something, that game. 

Most would never hesitate to share their findings with a superior; Pantalone is almost as ruthless as I am when it comes to menials and important information.  She hesitated over such a simple question that should have been quick to answer.

But instead she provided a specific example, made no mention of whether or not Regrator knew.

Did she assume it was a given?  Or did she truly not report that finding?  If so, why?  Was it not hers to report?

Money leaving the country and circulating elsewhere was a normal occurrence and ensured the entirety of Teyvat’s economy didn’t collapse.  But if too much was leaving the local economy and being used elsewhere…perhaps there was a distrust in Northland…in the Tsaritsa.

Less money circulating natively meant less money for Pantalone to draw from for my own funding.  Nevermind the rest of the nation.

To hell with the rest of the nation, really.  There’s little that cannot be done without the assistance of other nations anyway.  Wherever the money is going, the Fatui has no shortage of enemies.

Perhaps Regrator’s embezzlement was becoming too obvious.  His greed knows little bounds, a sentiment I can certainly understand under the lens of knowledge.  Accumulating knowledge is as addicting as greed, perhaps could be argued to be a form of it.

And so if she brings it to Pantalone’s attention, she might, in fact, end up on the chopping block for it.

Precarious indeed.

Not just anyone gets to be in her position, however; background checks and certifications and several examinations are required.  And she cannot afford to lose it, clearly, given what’s mentioned about her parents.

Keeping anything a secret was a larger liability than simply showing her supervisor her findings…

How did I miss that?  Truly?  How could I have lacked that much foresight? 

It wasn’t as if she was hiding it very well.

I’ll send an order for a proper background check in the morning.  Of all people, I should know better than to take sources at face-value.

[straightouttheslendermansionn]

𝑫𝑶𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹 𝑫𝑶𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹!

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓: Il Dottore/The Doctor

𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: fem! reader because this is horribly self-indulgent, sadism, dacryphilia, overstimulation, edging, degradation. lots of scary and spicy things. Oh and choking. iykyk.

These are just general nsfw headcanons for my problematic fave <3

He is totally into choking. This is only half a joke, because if he sees that you enjoy it he’ll probably question it for a bit but keep doing it. Or deny you this pleasure. Depends

He likes incorporating his experimental nature into intimate practices. Which means he will absolutely edge you and/or overstimulate you and excuse his actions with his reason being experimentation.

Oh yeah and he most definitely likes the sound and look of you crying and begging. It's a motivator for him.

"It seems you like this, but why are you crying? Cheer up or I'll give you a reason to cry." he coos and wipes a single, shiny tear from your eye, a toothy grin across his face.

How utterly fucking pathetic.

He would commission Sandrone to make new erotic devices to try on you every once in a while, While she hates this idea, Mora is Mora. And he's her superior. Not like she hasn't created instruments of torture for him in the past.

And if you enjoy getting hurt, he won’t shy away, especially if you’ve been disobedient. Though if it’s just you wanting it, rather deserving it, you’ll either have to to do something to make him want to punish you or beg him. No in between.

Use your words, you’re babbling like an idiot. Would you like more marks on your body? Are you addicted to the sweet stinging against your skin?

He grips your thighs/ass while saying the last part. Just… imagine it.

Oh yeah he’s a thigh guy btw. He likes thighs and waists. Especially ones with a bit more squish. More to cut open, more to grip onto.

His weakest spot is his neck. Either go for that or bite down while giving head to earn a chuckle and a quick change of pace (meaning he either starts roughly topping or he starts fucking. This man doesn’t play).

Hell, he'll screw you on an autopsy table. He'll make sure it's nice and clean just for you. With a mirror set up and everything so you can watch as he wrecks you, the way your face looks as he bruises your insides. His gloved fingers in your mouth and your hair a mess as you're tearing up and begging for release.

On that note, he's either almost entirely clothed or not clothed at all. Most of the time it's the former.

But of course, you only get him when he's in a good mood. Obey him and be his obedient little partner if you want your hole fucked good! He can definitely satisfy, but only if you act like a good girl and obey his every whim.

It's really difficult to completely make him hard. It's hard to bring him over the edge and have him begging. He's completely a top, and a really rough one at that. Submission is more attractive to him than being dominated, though he does admire the inner fierceness in his partner when they attempt to top.

He also eats out really well but he almost never does it unless he feels you REALLY deserve it. He personally just doesn't like doing it but will very rarely make an exception.

Aftercare? Never heard of her. If he thinks he has time to spare or if you quite literally can't properly move after that, he'll scoff and then carry you somewhere where you can rest. He might even send for someone to bring you things to eat or to draw up a bath for you. It's rarely ever him though.

While this is true, he does run constant medical tests to ensure that you're nice and healthy. Biweekly blood tests, makes sure you take your required meds and vitamins, all that good stuff. This is the only factor that would, in essence, make him a caretaker dom. But only barely.

Call him Zandik in bed and he will lie you on a dissection table so fuckin fast (he hates it, seriously hates it)

Is very possessive but certainly wouldn't mind sharing you with a certain other harbinger (come on, we all know who).

Just as long as that Regrator bastard remembers who’s in charge.

A/N: The atrocious things I'd let Dottore do to me. The absolute horrendous acts I would let him perform. I am down diabolical for this man. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the content, and stay slutty my friends.

[eaglyn]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In reality, you could turn anything into entertainment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Please just put it in." You whined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[phoenixblaze1412]

Can you write about female reader and Dottore got body swap?

Of course!

It was just a mishap, if Dottore were to say so himself.

But he did not expect the concoction he was making would end up like this. That headache he's feeling is not helping at all.

Right when he was about to get rid of his mask did he not find it on his face.

He could only stare at his hand and noticed how small it is than what he's usually used to see, no scars from the past. Wait since when did he paint his nails blue? He definitely remembers you having such colored nails and even showing it off to him since it's the same color as his hair.

He quickly looked around in search of a mirror but the only thing close to it was the shards of the beaker he held earlier. Looking closely at the glass, he noticed your reflection staring back at him instead.

Testing the waters, he poked and prodded at his (your) body. He memorized every curves and bumps in your body and he definitely knows he's in your body.

Maybe a final observation is needed to make it official.

He was already moving his hand down to cup himself when a large hand shot out and grabbed his wrist to stop himself from what he was about to do.

"Don't you even dare touch there!"

He stared back at his maskless self, already knowing it's you inside his body with that dark red blush on your (his) face, tilting his head innocently like he wasn't just about to touch something.

"Oh? But I was only making an observation, love. Besides, I already touched you multiple times whenever we have our love-making sessions, there's nothing to be embarrassed about when I already know how your body reacts to my every touch."

You stared at yourself- Dottore, well you had to tilt your head down a bit to look at your own self. Damn, were you that short that the doctor had to look down just to talk to you- okay not the time to worry about that. You did also poked and squeezed every muscle in Dottore's body that you're currently residing in... may or may not have checked and touched what's down there.

The doctor didn't have much to worry about when he stared at his own body, which is towering over him, when he already has his segments who are literally his own clones. You, however, are still somewhat panicking that you currently have a dick attached to you. Which is your partner's but you'retechnically in his body.

"Love, please calm down. The effects will wear off after a day. I can just send Omega to the meeting to take my place as always."

Dottore noticed you were lost in your own thoughts before grabbing your jaw and making you turn to look at him.

"Everything will be alright. I'll simply inform Pierro that you had fallen ill and is unfit to do your tasks for today. Now, do stop nibbling your.. well, my lip. Remember dear, my teeth are sharp and you're in my body."

Not that Dottore was annoyed when he always see this little habit of yours, he finds it adorable really. He just doesn't want your lips to be wounded from the habit.

A thought came across his mind as he gave you a sly grin. You stared back at your partner and raised a brow, wondering at what he's thinking. Not long after that you were suddenly being pinned to the table behind you, the edge of the furniture hitting your lower back but you were more surprised you had that kind of strength in your body to even do such a thing.

You heard the doctor let out a little laugh as he grabbed your hands and placed them on his waist, holding them in place.

"Since we are in such an 'unfortunate predicament', I suggest we do a little experiment. It is your first time in my body so you get to experience what I feel while I do the same with your body, hm?"

Oh dear..

[xreaderanonaccount]

Masterlist₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

🌷͙֒ NSFW

‎‧₊˚✧[Fatui Harbingers]✧˚₊‧

Fatui Harbingers x Reader Headcannons

Fatui Male Harbingers x Reader Wearing their Harbingers Coat

‎‧₊˚✧[Dottore]✧˚₊‧

Dottore x Reader x Pantalone Funeral Procession

Dottore x AFAB!Reader 🌷͙֒

Omega x AFAB!Reader x Pantalone 🌷͙֒

Dottore x Reader Injured Reader

Webttore x Reader 🌷͙֒

Yandere!Webttore x Reader 🌷͙֒

Webttore x Reader Can't stop Worrying

Akademiya!Dottore x Reader 🌷͙֒

Dottore x Reader Hard to say

‎‧₊˚✧[Pantalone]✧˚₊‧

Dottore x Reader x Pantalone Funeral Procession

Omega x AFAB!Reader x Pantalone 🌷͙֒

Pantalone x Reader Last Dance

Pantalone x Reader Walk down memory lane

Pantalone x Reader Rings

‎‧₊˚✧[Childe]✧˚₊‧

Childe x Reader Rain of Blood

Childe x Reader Days like these

‎‧₊˚✧[Arlecchino]✧˚₊‧

Arlecchino x AFAB!Reader Caring Maid

‎‧₊˚✧[Capitano]✧˚₊‧

Capitano x Reader Rythm of the heart

Capitano x Worried!Reader

‎‧₊˚✧[Liyue]✧˚₊‧

‎‧₊˚✧[Xiao]✧˚₊‧

Xiao x Reader Singing

Xiao x Reader Thunderstorms

Baizhu x Reader Doctor knows best

‎‧₊˚✧[Fontaine]✧˚₊‧

‎‧₊˚✧[Neuivllette]✧˚₊‧

Neuvillette x Reader Singing

‎‧₊˚✧[Wriothesley]✧˚₊‧

Wriothesley x Reader Singing

[mikaela-the-slut-expert]

Hii ! Can i request dottorexfem!reader wearing something like a bit revealing or some type of short dress or skirt and some person judges her up and down and the reader felt uncomfortable and dottore noticed something is wrong? And fluff please :D Thank you!!^^ love your works<33

(this happened to me 3 days ago ;v;)

Skirts and Stares

Dottore x fem!reader

Of course you can 😁and also that's awful, people are so judgy for no reason. So just do your thing girl, I'm sure you looked great. ☺️🖤

_____________________________________________

Today you are out and about with Dottore, in Sumeru. Do to his recent mission that's where he's been stationed and he so kindly let you come with him. The best thing about it though? Warm weather! It's been ages since you've finally been able to wear some cute skirts or pretty dresses because it's freezing in Snezhnaya.

Dottore also tends to scold you if you aren't properly dressed for the cold. He doesn't want his darling getting sick after all.

So today you chose to wear a pretty, frilled, short skirt and you were happy when your lover nodded in approval. Now the two of you walk arm in arm in Sumeru city.

It's a quick walk the two of you can go in before Dottore ends up being busy again. You also wanted to explore all the shops, and beautiful scenery. Who is your lover to deny you?

You feel great! Nothing could be better than this, until you notice something. The more you guys walk in the city the more people look at you. At first you thought it was because you're foreigners from Snezhnaya so of course you would see some looks directed at you. Especially with tall, and intimidating man at your side.

You realize soon after they aren't looking at him though. They're looking at you and all their gazes are directed at your skirt. It's really not that short. You sum it up as people just aren't used to your clothing. Even though it's very hot most people are wearing long outfits and even wear multiple layers. It's not your fault you don't want to have a heat stroke.

You continue walking with Dottore like this and you eventually visit an antique shop. It's cute and the little trinkets on the shelves grab your attention. So you unlink arms with Dottore and start looking around. After picking out two things, one for you and one for Dottore. You link back with Dottore and the two of you go to the desk so he, you can pay for it.

The woman hands you a little bag that holds your items. You take it and her necklace catches your eye, "Oh I love you necklace" you smile nervously. You've always been shy.

"Thank you" she says this but you notice she gives you a judgmental look. The look where it's up, down, and up again. You frown and grab the hem of your skirt. She was looking down at your skirt.

What are they looking at? Are they judging the skirt itself? Or maybe they're staring at your legs? They look fine so why do they care? What do they think? That you look stupid maybe. You feel stupid now, why would you wear a skirt out-

"Y/n, is something wrong?"

You didn't seem to notice but Dottore has taken you outside and to a side area of the shop, in a shady corner. Once you see no one is there you sigh in relief.

"I... No of course not, let's continue our walk." You smile, and glance away. You didn't want to ruin the day with some small, trivial insecurity. You would be fine.

You should be fine, but you're gripping the hem of your skirt suddenly feeling like it's too short on you. You should be fine but your head is down cast and you refuse to look into Dottore's eyes. You should be fine but you're trembling and your eyes water.

You hear Dottore lets out a 'hm' sound and his hand, ever so carefully, touches your jaw. He lifts your gaze to him and you blink away your tears.

"It's really nothing..." Your voice wavers, but Dottore hushes you.

"It's obviously something or you wouldn't be crying, would you, my love? What's the matter?" He asks sincerely and you see the corners of his lips curl down.

"..." You sigh and lean into Dottore's chest. "Everyone has been judging my skirt, especially that old woman in there..." You mumble.

Your lover hums and runs his finger through your hair. Dottore hasn't worried about insecurities in a long time but he tries to be understanding of yours.

"I see, shall we go home then?" He asks and you nod your head. You'd rather be home with Dottore than out in the city. In your home no staff would dare look at you.

When the two of you get home you drop your bag down into the bed and then flip on it. You groan into your pillows. You're not really happy with how the day flowed.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel Dottore run a hand over you back. He's fingers run down your spine and then up again. Then he pets your hair. "For the record I think your skirt looked very 'pretty' on you" Dottore hums and then kisses your head. "I'm going out for a quick errand stay here, my love"

You nod and give him a quick peck on the cheek.

**********************************************************

For a quick errand Dottore sure took a long time. You've long since changed into some pj's and you lay in your shared bed. Of course you haven't gone to sleep yet, you're waiting on your lover to get home.

When your bedroom door cracks open and you see Dottore you smile. "You took a long time", "I apologize I got sidetracked, dear"

He walks closer to you and sits on the edge of the bed. His hand comes up to run a thumb over your cheek. "Feeling better, dear?"

You let out a long hum, "Yeah I feel better" you giggle and he pinches your cheek softly. "I got you something"

You sit up in bed and when Dottore fishes his hand out of his pocket he's holding a necklace. "It's gorgeous, where did you find it?" The necklace actually looks kind of familiar now that you look closer... You let him move your hair and put it around your neck anyways.

"hm. In a shop" He pats your head and lies you back down. "That's really sweet Dottore, I love you"

"Of course anything for you dear" he kisses your forehead.

The next day when you go out on a walk, in a skirt, new necklace, and hands linked with Dottore. No one's looking at you this time, and you don't see that old woman again.

__________________________________________________

Tell me what you guys think! And also if you caught that snippet about the old woman 😭🙏. Here you go I hope you enjoyed it.🖤🖤 Also sorry if it's short.