First Time With Some of The Harbingers
⢠featuring: Pantalone, Scaramouche and Dottore x AFAB Reader
⢠note: I wrote this while high as shit bruh. I hope you can't tell. Reader uses gender neutral pronouns but is described to have a vagina. I lowk lost the plot a lil bit. You can definitely tell which one of these three is my favorite lol
⢠warnings: edging, bondage, p in v sex, aphrodisiacs, blindfolds, Dottore himself is a warning, oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), degrading.
As always constructive criticism is welcomed.
âTry to relax, dear. Itâll hurt more if youâre so tense,â Pantalone murmurs in your ear, almost lazy in his self-assuredness. His still-gloved fingers brush feather-light touches along your abused foldsâbarely touching, but reminding you he could.
You whine again. Heâs been at this for what seems like hours, taking you to the edge of pleasure and pulling away just before you could fall. With his fingers, his tongue, just the tip of his cockâŚ
Heâd said something about preparing you, though you suspect he simply gets off on the sight of you crying and whining beneath him.
You make a sound dangerously close to a whimper, all pretense of dignity forgotten. âPantalone⌠please.â
âI-I canât⌠Please, I canât do this,â you whine. The sentence comes out breathy, high-pitched, and barely legible.
Pantalone laughs, and you almost want to punch him for it. Heâs still fully clothed, gloves and all, clearly elated at how pitiful you must look.
âMy dear, Iâm just trying to prepare you. But if youâre so eagerâŚâ He smiles. âYou know I canât deny you.â
You bury your face in your hands, eliciting another breathy laugh from him. Finally, he drops his trousers just enough to free his cock and⌠oh my.
Your mouth goes dry at the sight. Suddenly, you understand exactly what all that talk about preparation was for. His cock is hugeâthick and curvedâits tip now pressing just barely into your drooling cunt.
You tense instinctively. You donât mean to, but he notices immediately. He doesnât laugh this time, but the mirth in his eyes is practically the same as if he had. âCâmon, you were so eager. Donât tell me youâre getting cold feet now.â
You close your mouth (not even aware it had fallen open) and give a vigorous shake of your head.
He smiles, almost a little relieved. âGood girl.â He pulls his hands from your hips for just a momentâthe loss of contact strangely jarringâbefore removing his glasses and setting them on the bedside table. âNow come on.â
It was going to be a long night.
âPathetic.â Scaramouche sneered. âCâmon, donât disappoint me. I thought you could do better.â
Youâve been choking on his dick for what feels like ages, struggling to take him in fully while still remembering to breathe. It seems your sloppy efforts have started to bore him.
âMaybe Iâve put too much faith in you,â he scoffs, wrapping a hand tightly in your hair before tugging you off him with a sharp pull. âLetâs try again. Hm?â
His eyes rake over your body, and you fight the urge to cover yourself. You look like a complete mess. You're sure of it. All flushed and breathless, with streaks of spit and precum coating your lips and chin.
Scaramoucheâs grip tightens in your hair, pulling a weak, whimper from your throat. He clicks his tongue. âOkay. Crash course.â
Without another warning, he yanks you forward again. âOpen wider. And relax that throat this time.â He guides his slick cock back to your lips, tapping the swollen head against them once, twice, before pushing in with a slow, deliberate thrust. This time he doesnât wait for you to adjust. Even that small mercy discarded. He pushes just a little deeper, hitting the back of your throat and holding you there.
âThatâs it,â he murmurs, voice low and mocking. âLook at you. Already crying for me? Adorable.â
Tears slip down your cheeks, mixing with the mess already coating your chin, but you tryâhollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue to the best of your ability while he uses your mouth. Every little whimper and gag seems to amuse him even more, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
He pulls back only to thrust in again, harder. Nearly knocking the wind out of you. Every time you try to pull away for air, his hand in your hair keeps you exactly where he wants you.
He rocks his hips forward another inch, watching with dark amusement as fresh tears spill down your flushed cheeks. âThere we go. Much better already.â
âHow responsive,â Dottore muttered, removing his finger from your slick heat and bringing it up to your mouth.
You lapped it up. Obviously. What else were you supposed to do? You were completely at his mercy. When your lover had suggested an⌠letâs call it an âexperimentâ to test your reactions using different stimuli, you had agreed. Mostly because you were curious and hadnât taken the thought very seriously.
If you had known it would lead to you being tied up and blindfolded on the bed, with pumps of what felt like pure heat flowing through your veins, you might have given your answer a bit more thought.
But alas, it was too late for regrets now.
You didnât even know what to expect. The blindfold pressed firmly against your eyes, plunging you into darkness, while the soft ropes spread your arms and legs apart, baring you in a way that would have normally caused anxiety if you didnât trust the man above you so completely.
You could hear him moving nearby. The scratch of pen on paper and the rustle of fabric were the only testaments to his presence.
Dottoreâs low chuckle broke the silence. âStill with me, my dear? Or has the serum already melted that clever little mind of yours?â
You tried to answer, but only a soft, needy whimper escaped your lips. The heat in your veins pulsed stronger now, pooling low in your belly and making your thighs tremble. You could feel how wet you were â embarrassingly so â and the cool air of the room only made the slickness between your legs more obvious.
A gloved hand trailed slowly up your inner thigh, feather-light and teasing. âMy, my⌠look at you. So eager already.â Dottoreâs voice was smooth and clinical, yet laced with dark amusement and fascination. âThe serum is working beautifully. Elevated heart rate, quickened breathing, and thisââ His fingers brushed lightly over your soaked folds, making your hips arch involuntarily. ââthis is quite the promising reaction.â
You bit your lip hard, trying not to moan, but another helpless sound slipped out anyway. Dottore hummed in approval.
âLetâs see how much more you can take before you start begging. Shall we?â
His fingers withdrew, and you felt the absence like a physical thing. The only sounds in the room were the rustle of fabric â until you nearly yelped in surprise when you felt his breath ghosting over your dripping core.
Before you could brace yourself, his tongue dragged slowly from your entrance up to your swollen clit in one long, deliberate lick. The sensation hit you like lightning: intense, wet heat against oversensitive flesh. Your back arched sharply, a broken moan tearing from your throat as the serum amplified every stroke.
He didnât rush. His movements were precise, almost maddeningly controlled, as if this were just another experiment to him. He circled your clit with the flat of his tongue, then flicked it lightly, savoring the way your body jerked and trembled beneath him whenever he found a particularly sensitive spot.
Your back arched off the bed as much as the ropes would allow, another broken moan tearing from your throat.
Dottore tsked softly. âNone of that. This is still an experiment, and I still want data.â
⢠Dividers by Saradika Graphics
