hello! I am celeste, and i write smut. for adults. minors dni.
Masterlist!
Hi :) I am exclusively a smut writer for Genshin Impact, Death Note, Blue Period, HxH, and Danganronpa! Requests are open, so feel free to request anything you can think of. More info on that down in rules!
DNI list consists of: minors!
🅁🅄🄻🄴🅂 (𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙱𝚕𝚘𝚐)
1. Minors, please dni! as an adult that read smut from a younge age, it gives u an unrealistic idea of sex that isn’t fun to deal with.
2. Just be respectable and decent, really. I won't kinkshame, but I will refuse requests that I'm not comfortable with. I'm alright with most 'normal' kinks, but things such as scat, most piss, and things further down the dark hill are probably a no-go.
🅁🄴🅀🅄🄴🅂🅃🄸🄽🄶 (𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝙵𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖𝚜)
Requests are open :) Feel free to request to your hearts content! The more requests I get, the more likely I am to write more! Therefore, spam my inbox :) inbox is also open for just random whatever you feel like sO
SYNOPSIS: You—The Tenth Fatui Harbinger—pride yourself on cold composure and distance, a trait of yours that has always irked The Doctor. Upon curiosity, he sets out the perfect experiment with the help of an aphrodisiac to break your cold façade. That will surely reveal your most vulnerable state.
CONTENT WARNING: DUBCON, non-consensual drugging, smut (mdni), use of aphrodisiac, p in v, fingering, edging (if you squint), unprotected sex, creampie, porn without plot, tenth fatui harbinger!reader, slow burn-ish, sexual tension, reader is referred as her fatui title—prevaricator, other harbinger cameo, a bit of scientific jargon but you’ll be fine, dottore is an ass, not beta read.
WORD COUNT: 7.6k
NOTES: EEEEP it’s finally finished! my first piece of writing after a couple of long months >< i’m so excited to be writing again !! apologies if the smut is a bit awkward, i haven’t written smut since 2024 so i’m a bit rusty. nonetheless, do enjoy !! div: uzzmacchiato.
The grand hall of Zapolyarny Palace gleamed with cold opulence—crystal chandeliers and polished marble floors. The hall’s high arched stained windows revealed the quiet chaos of the snowstorm outside; snowflakes painted the palace with its icy elegance. Today’s agenda was rather bleak, no new missions from Her Majesty had been tasked, nor was there anything of pure interest beyond the palace walls.
Naturally, with a dull day like this, Sandrone held her tea parties to combat idle bodies within the palace. Her parties were far from formal, more so a casual gathering between friends and people alike—if the Harbingers even considered each other friends. Nonetheless, the get-together was always immaculate—every pristine teacup was aligned and every mechanical attendant moved with flawless precision. As expected from the Seventh Harbinger herself.
Amongst the group sat you with your usual stillness—calm like the ocean yet as mysterious as its azure depths. What lay beneath its tranquil surface was nothing but a façade of lies. It wasn’t a surprise you lived up to your title—Prevaricator.
Sandrone presided at the head of the table, she sat with precision, back pin-straight as she nursed the freshly brewed beverage. Straight across from her, sat Columbina, and Arlecchino on a vermillion sofa; you and Rosalyne to her right, leaving two empty chairs across from you. On some days, The Captain and Childe would occupy those seats.
“When do you leave for Inazuma, Rosalyne?” Sandrone peeked through the steam that rose from her cup, cerulean eyes piercing yet held no ill intent.
The blonde swallowed down a piece of biscuit before replying, a sharp hand covered her crimson-stained lips out of etiquette, “In three days’ time. I’ll make sure to get you Inazuman tea once I get back.” Rosalyne laughed which pulled an eye roll from Sandrone.
Before the latter could entertain the banter, Columbina spoke up, her dainty voice just enough for all to hear, “Inazuma? I’ve heard The Balladeer is also assigned there.” Rosalyne nodded, despite her quiet response, her displeased face conveyed all emotions needed to conclude how she felt about the Inazuman puppet.
As for you, your feelings toward The Balladeer were nothing but neutral. Sure, you’ve previously exchanged disagreements on several occasions but that was all there was to your ‘relationship’. Though, his mannerisms and sharp words awfully reminded you of a certain Harbinger—one you could barely stand even if your life depended on it.
You weren’t alone in that opinion.
As you spiraled into pure disdain for your colleague, a set of icy footsteps against the marbled floors halted all conversation—your thoughts included. For a mere second, it was as though time had stopped and the snowfall outside was suspended mid-air. Oxygen grew thin within the palace and you swore the temperature dipped below necessary. Even Sandrone’s automatons seemed to hesitate for a heartbeat.
Dottore stepped inside. Uninvited. Unannounced. Unwelcomed. As if your unkind thoughts had somewhat summoned the devil himself.
With pure mockery and amusement, Dottore tilted his head slightly, taking in the frozen expressions of his colleagues. His pointed mask shone beneath the crystal chandeliers.
“Is this how you welcome a guest?” The Doctor drawled. “How cold. You should all be delighted I’m even attending this . . . get-together.” He ended the sentence with absolute scorn, obviously looking down at his fellow Harbingers.
Sandrone’s fingers tightened around the porcelain cup, “You weren’t invited.” She said flatly.
“Ah.” Dottore started, already headed towards the mahogany table, “Details.” He ignored the Seventh entirely and claimed an empty seat, a seat reserved for anyone but him—directly across from you.
You did not react. Nor did you acknowledge his presence beyond the faint clink of porcelain as you set your cup down as if it were any other tea party. Unlike Sandrone who wore her negative emotions proudly, you remained expressionless—cool, unreadable, and infuriatingly indifferent.
Dottore watched your calm figure from beneath his mask.
Of course you would pretend he didn’t exist. That was what fascinated him the most.
Nothing but a lowly ranked Harbinger yet you carried yourself like someone who had already surpassed every soul in the room. And that’s what made Dottore’s skin itch.
Oh, how badly he wanted to break that false persona of yours, and reveal the weak, poor human you were beneath all those layers. After all, your very existence was built on lies—delusions, just like your genius invention.
Being the Tenth Harbinger meant that your physical prowess wasn’t as refined as the others but your intellect was a different story, and admittedly, it utterly amazed Dottore more than anything.
Who could’ve come up with such a brilliant idea of manufacturing Delusions? Even though the entire process was a joint project between you and Dottore—much to your dismay—he had to give you credit. Not only did your invention further aid each Harbinger with their combat skills but it was also being mass produced in Inazuma right this very moment.
Such a feat a lowly Harbinger could obtain.
Which is why you have piqued his very interest. Dottore wanted to study you, to dissect each and every neuron, and learn how your action potentials differed from the rest—was it your synapses? Or maybe your neurotransmitters? Maybe that’s where your blind arrogance came from.
“Well, don’t mind me. Do carry on with your trivial matters.” The Doctor dismissively waved a gloved hand, a smirk curled at the end of his carmine lips.
Silence remained for a beat or two before Sandrone cleared her throat and resumed conversation with Rosalyne in hopes to drown out a certain parasite amongst the group, “This tea is from Liyue, huh? Quite different from Fontaine, I must say . . . but I’m not complaining.”
Naturally, you followed suit by bringing your cup to your lips to finally get a taste of Liyuean tea—your sip earlier had been abruptly interrupted by The Doctor. The fresh brew tasted of intense floral notes . . Was it apricot and peach? Nonetheless, the flavour was right up your alley. You had to hand it to Rosalyne for having such an exquisite taste.
It had already been a couple of minutes since Dottore crashed the tea party and you were two cups in, having taken a liking to this particular brew. Huh, maybe you might just visit Liyue for yourself. Though, this second round felt a little off—not the taste, no, it was still as lovely as before—something to do with how it made you feel. Sure, the heater was on and around your shoulders was a thick ivory Fatui coat you regularly wore in Snezhnaya but they didn’t usually leave you extremely warm—blazing, even.
You frowned.
Dottore noticed instantaneously.
How your posture shifted imperceptibly—one leg crossing over the other, shoulders rising with a much deeper breath than before. A faint warmth kissed its way down to your collar, even extending as far as to your chest. The slight shift was invisible to most in the room, except Dottore.
Ah. There it is. He thought.
Your fingers lingered at the rim of the porcelain piece as you set it down once again; you weren’t clumsy, nor weak, just a tad slower than your usual movement. Annoyed, you exhaled through your nose, absolutely oblivious to the reason as to why your body was somewhat disobeying you. Was it the long term effects of your Delusion finally catching up?
Dottore leaned back into the plush vermillion chair, fingers intertwined atop his crossed legs. Oh, how utterly delighted he was. Patience really is a virtue! His little experiment of the day had finally fallen into its rightful place; now, he shall sit and watch how you would handle the independent variable given. Of course, with this experiment of his, you were the controlled variable.
Upon instinct, your gaze finally lifted to meet Dottore’s—albeit behind a mask, there was no denying he had his crimson gaze set upon you. He responded with a mere head tilt, as if he were studying a rare specimen who finally gave him some kind of result.
A sly smile spread across his lips, “Are you unwell, Prevaricator?” Dottore asked pleasantly, voice full of concern yet you knew it was all mockery and amusement; that’s all the Harbingers were to him, a group of people convenient enough for him to play with, unfortunately for The Balladeer, he bore most of Dottore’s little games.
It seemed like you were next in line, though.
The Doctor had easily rerouted Sandrone’s automatons earlier before the tea party—a few adjustments just enough to programme her machinery to serve one cup differently from the rest with a diluted compound, a compound barely enough for your body to register. It wasn’t as potent as the final product but it was sure to disrupt your system even by a smidge.
And that’s where Dottore thrived the most, on small differences.
His question drew unwanted attention from the rest, their curious gaze now upon you. It was more so the fact that no one else wanted to engage in a conversation with Dottore.
Your eyes narrowed a fraction, “No,” A small pause.
“Just . . . warm.” Curt and icy, a response only he deserved. “Oh?” The Second Harbinger pressed further.
“This hall is simply overheated.” At your clipped response, his smile stretched even further behind his pointed mask. What an unsettling sight.
Liar. The Doctor thought.
You shifted in your seat once again, this time, your jaw tightened, fully irritated by your own body. Aside from the sharp heat that clung to every corner of your skin, you felt . . . Sensitive; the distinct contrast of the frost bitten air that ghosted your cheeks once in a while against feverish skin formed goosebumps all over your body. Even your chest ached with slight sensitivity as it rubbed against your undergarment. You weren’t utterly uncomfortable but it was enough to fuel your budding annoyance.
That, alone, fascinated Dottore.
He leaned forward slightly as if to study you closer for a brief moment before getting up from his seat, “How disappointing,” Dottore murmured lowly to himself but it was certainly loud enough for everyone to hear.
“I was hoping for something . . . More telling.” He gave you one last look which was met with a cold glare from you. Ah, he adored that look on you, that expression of pure defiance and hatred; you could bury your innermost feelings with such expressions yet it didn’t deny the fact that your pupils were a touch wider now, breathing a fraction slower—heavier.
This was only a tiny crack on the surface but it was more than enough to prove Dottore’s hypothesis—that beneath your seemingly unbreakable façade, you were susceptible to breaking.
Now, he only needed to calculate your breaking point.
How far were you willing to endure? Would you fold after the next experiment? Or would you stick to your stubborn façade and refuse to give in while you suffered in silence? Dottore could barely wait to write his next hypothesis.
Without another word, The Doctor turned to leave.
Confusion amongst you and your colleagues lingered in the air but soon dissipated upon conversations of shared dislike for the Second Harbinger; you could only nod along, heat that simmered beneath your skin needed your attention far more than the conversation at hand. Even your head began to spin. You wanted to call it a day but Rosalyne was bound for Inazuma for an unknown period of time in a few days and you wanted to spend today with her since she had just gotten back from Liyue regarding a previous task.
The get-together rolled on for a couple more hours until conversations ran dry and tea turned cold and it was time to finally call it a day. Everyone excused themselves without ceremony and returned to their respective homes—thankfully, the snowstorm had died down. On another day, you would have done the same but your body proved to be more disoriented than you had assumed, thus, the best option was to reside within the Zapolyarny Palace for the night.
Each Harbinger was assigned personalised quarters by the Tsaritsa for the purpose of convenience such as summonings before lengthy meetings and other matters but of course, no one was obligated to stay in those quarters during other times. Though, Sandrone and Columbina did frequent their respective spaces; you assumed for the former’s case, it was for pure convenience since it was nearer to the Fatui’s Experimental Bureau.
By the time you had reached the upper corridors of the Palace, the cold marble beneath your boots felt wrong; the hear of your skin also hadn’t faded, if anything, it had deepened into something more unbearable: a persistent awareness which you resented with every step.
You hated this. Hated the way your mind slipped when it should’ve been sharp and precise, hated the dull tension your lower spine housed, and the irritation that came with not knowing why. You knew your body far better than anyone else, so why hasn’t your mind come up with a concise conclusion?
As you rounded the corner, you reached out a hand against the wall to steady yourself, just a few more steps and you’d reach your quarters. Pull it together.
“Are you sure you’re well?”
At the familiar voice, you stopped in your tracks, body swaying ever so slightly as if calm tides of the ocean lulled you back and forth. You hadn't even heard footsteps trailing behind you nor did you sense anyone else’s presence, was this because of your cognitive decline?
Dottore stood behind you, half-shadowed by the dimly lit corridor, posture relaxed as if he had every reason to be outside your quarters so late in the afternoon. You didn’t own the entire hallway, of course but he rarely presented himself in the Palace unless he was summoned by the Tsaritsa, let alone step foot on the upper corridors.
His voice was smooth, almost considerate, “You look like you need . . .” He paused for a heartbeat, “Help.” Whether it was your soiled mind talking or simply the tone of Dottore’s voice, the implication sat heavy in the air like an unpleasant smoke, and it wasn’t innocent either. Just the thought of it coming from The Doctor had you shuddering.
“I’m fine.” You straightened, not even bothering to turn around. “Whatever you’re implying, save it for someone who cares.” Before you could continue your step, Dottore swiftly crossed the distance between the two of you, grabbing a firm hold of your wrist. There was no skin to skin contact yet his touch burned, almost enough to let out an embarrassing gasp.
“Implying? What a bold conclusion. What could you possibly mean by that?” Your pulse jumped at his words, utterly betraying your entire soul. “Let go.” You spun to face him, eyes flashing with raw fury.
Dottore ignored your protest, instead, he stepped forward, ultimately caging you between himself and the icy wall behind your back. An arm braced beside your head, body close enough to feel the heat radiating off him; the faint scent of antiseptics and a few more chemicals you couldn’t name invaded your senses. It made you nauseous.
“There it is. That look.” He murmured, positively amused at your reaction. Your breath came a fraction faster and you despised the thought of Dottore being able to notice the slight difference.
Huh, who knew dosing you a diluted version of the independent variable would incite such a mix of reactions, if only The Doctor had known he’d obtain a variety of results from this simple experiment, he would’ve gone all the way and given you the undiluted compound. But alas, he was nice enough to ease you into the drug.
“Do you have any idea how insufferable you are?”
You scoffed, "You're blocking my way, I think you’re the more insufferable one here.”
Dottore leaned in, only slightly—not to invade your space but just enough to threaten it.
“You walk into rooms like you’re already above everyone in them. You don’t beg for relevance, nor do you perform—it’s as if you believe you’re untouchable.” His voice dipped, much sharper this time.
Your jaw tightened, “Move.”
“That arrogance,” Dottore retorted. “Is precisely what irks me.”
Refusing to look away and lose the fight, you met his gaze head-on through his mask, ignoring the fact that your skin now burned a thousand flames, and you were hyperaware of every inch of space between yourself and The Doctor.
“Yet here you are. Following me—cornering me. If I’m beneath you then why bother tailing after some lowly Harbinger?” Dottore’s amusement completely vanished at your words, and something much, much colder took its place.
“People who think they’re superior are usually just hiding something.” The grip around your wrist tightened, it wasn’t painful but it was deliberate. “And I am very good at uncovering what lies beneath façades.”
“Seems like you’re projecting. Let go of me before you regret it.” Obviously, you were no match for The Doctor when it came to physical combat but at least with your Delusion, you could hold him off for a bit until Her Majesty finally notices two of her Harbingers are at each other’s throats.
Dottore chuckled, “How fascinating. Even compromised, you still bare your teeth.” That was another result for him, he made a mental note of it so he could jot all his findings down later.
At least, Dottore released your wrist and stepped back, allowing some of your senses to finally return, “For now, get some rest, Prevaricator. I’d hate for you to collapse before I’ve satisfied my curiosity.” Without another word, he turned and disappeared down the corridor, akin to a ghostly apparition.
You stood there for a good minute, trying to process the whole situation despite your impaired cognitive ability. Fury and unease twisted in your gut, creating a ball of mixed emotions, it sat heavy and absolutely uncomfortable but that wasn’t the worst part. It was the fact that whatever you were experiencing right now, Dottore had somewhat gotten his bloodstained hands involved.
On purpose, too, and all the while a sly smile plastered upon his masked face.
You felt sick.
With Dottore, there was never really an end in things, he was like a parasitic species—stubborn and hard to get rid of once they got a hold of their host. With this in mind, you stumbled into tomorrow with your defenses up, walls built higher this time.
At 10 AM, you found yourself in one of the auxiliary research lounges in the Experimental Bureau, the symptoms of yesterday long gone but not forgotten. The auxiliary served as an informal space within the building, an area for research staff and people alike to collaborate and discuss findings over a hot cup. Even though these rooms were built for relaxation, they certainly didn’t look the part—just like any other experimental building under the Fatui, it was all metal and cold; sound travelled far and beyond within these walls.
Safe to say you rarely bumped into your fellow Harbingers in spaces like these—especially Sandrone and Dottore who were frequent users of the facilities at the Bureau.
Just like the two, you conducted experiments and built items but your focus was on physical enhancement, mainly in combat. Human experiments weren’t ruled out of the list but you weren’t like The Doctor—unethical trials weren’t your cup of tea. Your research focused on enhancing what has already existed, not creating something that didn’t exist. Sure, there were times unwanted adverse effects spiraled out of control but that was all part of the process. Not every experiment was perfect.
“Prevaricator. You look well rested.” Unbelievable.
Now, even your coffee break was interrupted? Dottore’s laboratory was on the other side of the building, how could he have possibly ended up in your territory?
He walked in with confidence that had your eye twitching; you hadn’t even noticed the sound of the large metallic door hissing open—were you really that out of it today?
“You tampered with my tea.” You replied flatly, gaze locked onto the hot beverage resting on the table before you.
“An accusation. How unlike you.” Dottore placed a gloved hand atop his chest, feigning offense.
You crossed your arms over your chest, “You don’t attend social gatherings outside banquets, you don’t follow people to their quarters, and I don’t experience unexplained physiological changes unless someone interferes.”
Dottore stood there for a moment before breaking into an unsettling smile, “Very good. You finally noticed.” He praised you. You frowned, seething at the fact that he had treated you like one of his test subjects—they were always unwilling to participate in his experiments yet he proceeded nonetheless without a care, every single time. Their bone-chilling screams haunted your late night projects and you had no choice but to ignore them.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” Dottore made his way over to the table you sat on. “About how resilient you were yesterday. Sure, it was only a diluted compound but any other subject would have pathetically . . . Given in.” He reached into his pocket and took out a tiny vial filled with an iridescent liquid, it glimmered beneath the warm lights of the auxiliary.
“This is more refined.” “If you think I’m going to drink that, you are wholly mistaken.”
“Of course you will.” Dottore placed the vial on the table with a clink, right next to your steaming coffee. “Because you’re curious, and you hate unanswered questions more than you hate me.” In truth, the hatred you harboured for both were equal; unanswered questions in research were your biggest enemy and it drove you absolutely mad.
At your indifference, he spoke up once again, “Or because you want to prove that you’re still in control. You’d want that, wouldn’t you?”
Silence stretched longer than Dottore had wanted but he was a patient man, perfect results took time and with the gears turning in your head, he would conclude he’s not far off.
The thought of Dottore being in control of even a sliver of your life had you fuming, no one wanted that. Surely the effect of this substance wouldn’t be as bad, right? If anything went horrendously wrong, you could always trust in your expertise but would your cognitive abilities even pull through under a more potent chemical?
Despite your better judgement, you reached for the small vial, unscrewed its metal top off, and drank it all in one gulp. As expected, the taste was absolutely horrid; it stung your throat like you’d swallowed a thousand needles. You let out a cough, tears lining your eyes.
Dottore smirked. Right into the lion’s den.
Due to its higher potency, the substance acted a lot faster this time. The liquid sat heavy on your stomach, as if your gastric acid itself directly rejected it, not only did it make you nauseous but it also left an uncomfortable feeling. He noticed the way your breath hitched or how your brows furrowed in realisation that this chemical was much, much stronger.
He moved closer, one, two, three steps to close the distance, “Do you feel it? The way your body is betraying your discipline?”
You sat there for a while, wordlessly assessing the substance’s onset effects—increased heart rate, increased body temperature, vasodilation, cognitive fog, slowed motor skills, and slowed breathing. Your hearing became sensitive, both sharp and muffled at the same time, even Dottore’s sentence sounded almost incoherent but not quite.
“I think . .” You started, trying to catch your breath. “I think you should leave.”
Suspiciously enough, Dottore didn’t push any further, instead, he took a step back, “Rest. This dosage shall pass . . . Eventually.” The click clack of his shoes echoed in your ears as Dottore left the auxiliary.
You’ll be back in no time. He thought to himself.
You sighed a breath of relief, his presence was suffocating to say the least, and being under the influence of some substance didn’t help. Taking a few controlled, deep breaths, you tried to calm yourself; suddenly drinking coffee didn’t feel like the right thing to do. So, with a hazy mind and light feet, you left the auxiliary and headed to your own laboratory.
As you walked in, your subordinates greeted you, they immediately sensed something was wrong but didn’t dare pry—after all, it wasn’t their position to question their Lady Harbinger even if it meant concern. You tried your best to oversee experiments and discuss results but as each minute passed, your body began to feel even stranger.
Indecent thoughts slipped in and out of your mind, your skin yearned to be touched, and not to mention the uncomfortable heat that pooled between your legs. The flu-like symptoms from earlier you could handle but this was something else, it drove you to the borders of insanity; with the absence of another’s touch, your cunt ached.
You tried to hold it out—to let the effects pass but you only lasted about an hour or two before you ultimately kicked out every single soul inside the laboratory out of embarrassment. There was no way in hell you’d let your subordinates see you in such a state; gossip amongst lower ranked Fatui spread like wildfire and you weren’t about to become the topic of the month.
This compound didn’t simmer like the last, instead, it demanded immediate attention.
The laboratory now fell silent, only the constant hum of machines and ventilation accompanied your ragged breaths. You leaned over your desk, fists curling against the smooth surface as you cursed Dottore with every unpleasant word your impaired mind could think of. The period of effect was unknown, so basically you were just playing a waiting game, a dangerous one at that.
But you weren’t about to settle for this—no, you demanded answers from The Doctor.
Right now. Your patience had been exhausted and could feel a reckless storm brewing within you—one that abandoned rationality.
Without a second thought, you crossed the entire building from one side to the other, it was probably the fastest you’ve walked despite slightly limping from discomfort between your legs. Archons, you could only imagine how crazed you looked.
The door to Dottore’s laboratory screeched upon opening, gaining the attention of all staff inside it, including the Harbinger himself. He didn’t have to wait for the door to fully open to conclude it was you, according to his calculations, he expected you to show up right about now.
Before the staff could murmur amongst themselves, Dottore spoke a singular word—loud, clear and icy.
“Out.”
His subordinates didn’t have to be told twice. They shuffled to their feet rather quickly, immediately dropping whatever task they had at hand before squeezing out the door as if some madman were chasing them. Something in their mind whispered they wouldn’t want to witness what was going to happen next.
As the last person rushed out, the heavy door behind you hissed as it closed, leaving you and Dottore alone in his laboratory.
“Well, this is highly unexpected.”
“You’re going to give me a counteragent.” You demanded immediately.
Dottore momentarily paused before laughing at your retort, it wasn’t a cruel laugh, it was pure amusement. “My, this drug has really done its job, hasn’t it? Your mind is a mess!” Your furrowed brows and downturned lips only fuelled his delight. “You speak of a counteragent yet aphrodisiacs aren’t poisonous—they don’t harm the body, they heighten one’s senses and increase libido. Indeed, anaphrodisiacs exist but they don’t serve as a counteragent. In short, there is no ‘cure’.”
“The effects dissipate only after . . . release.” Dottore added.
An aphrodisiac? How could you have not come to that conclusion? You were so caught up in Dottore’s scheme that you completely forgot to account for the use of a common drug. Everything about him screamed complex so it was only right to assume he had synthesized a rather intricate substance.
“You’re well-versed in medicine and human physiology. You should know exactly how these types of compounds function.” Dottore slowly circled your unstable figure as if he were a predator sizing up its prey.
“Tell me, Prevaricator. If you rely on this counteragent you speak of, why didn’t you just synthesize your own instead of barging into my territory like a lunatic? I was in the middle of an experimental breakthrough.”
As much as you hated to admit it, Dottore was right you should have known. Now, you felt like an utter fool standing in his laboratory demanding for something that didn’t exist.
“Unless . . . You’re already aware that there is no counteragent. Which raises a far more interesting question,” He stood directly behind you, his tall stature loomed over your own, voice dangerously close to your ear.
“Why did you come to me?”
Your heart pounded violently against your chest, not because of fear but because of the humiliating reality that The Doctor pointed out. Why did you come to him? He was the last person you should’ve sought when it came to human physiology. What happened to relying on your own expertise?
“I came to you for answers. Why are you doing all this? I’m not your test subject!”
“That’s precisely the problem—you’re not. So, I took matters into my own hands, whether you liked it or not.”
“Why?”
“Your façade infuriates me. And I will use every resource I have to strip you of your false layers.”
You were dumbfounded. Why was Dottore so adamant? Both of you were Harbingers for gods sake!—your identities were built on lies. Every Harbinger was granted a false identity by the Tsaritsa, everyone knew that.
“Tell me, Prevaricator. Is it the aphrodisiac driving you mad or the fact that you know exactly what you want but refuse to admit it?”
“I . . .” Your sentence faded into thin air.
The aphrodisiac had you on a chokehold; you couldn’t think properly, any rational thoughts were forgotten, and left behind for your future self to pick up. You couldn’t even refute any of Dottore’s arguments even if you badly wanted to—your brain simply just wasn’t working because right now, all you wanted was one thing, release. The heat your body radiated became unbearable and the painful ache between your legs intensified with every passing second.
Dottore stood right before you, he wordlessly studied your unstable, flustered state; this was only the first layer he had stripped off—the tip of the iceberg—and he was more than ready to find out where it ended.
Dottore took a step forward. You took a step back in response.
“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you.” He hummed lowly, reaching out a gloved finger to trace the edge of your collar, it was slow and deliberate, cutting you off from what you needed most right this moment, contact. Embarrassingly enough, you shuddered at the sensation of his finger against your clothing, the small vibrations of the friction it created was enough to push you further into insanity.
“Oh. Well, that answers my question from earlier.” Dottore wrapped a gloved hand around your throat, not too tight, not too loose, just enough to have your cunt clenching around nothing. You whimpered at his touch, your sensitive skin finally receiving the contact it has yearned for. His leather gloves felt electric against your feverish skin and you’d be lying if you didn’t want more.
“. . . Please.” You whispered, lips parted to draw shallow breaths in and out.
“My, what a mess you are and we haven’t even begun the third phase of the experiment.”
Without wasting another second, Dottore pulled you by the neck and pressed his lips against your own. The kiss knocked out all the oxygen in your lungs, it was sloppy, heated, and passionate.
The tip of Dottore’s mask harshly dug into your cheek as he pressed even further, shoving his tongue inside your mouth. Your head spun, the kiss was intoxicating—he was intoxicating. At this point, with how desperately Dottore kissed you, you wondered if you were truly the one under the influence because it seemed like he was more lust driven than you were. Hungrier.
Wet sounds of aggressive lip smacking and the occasional pants you and Dottore let out filled the entire laboratory. If anyone were to walk in right this moment, they’d probably be crimson-cheeked at how lewd and pornographic you both sounded.
Dottore growled into your mouth as he gripped your jaw and tilted your head for better access. Oh, how well you were taking him; you were so obedient and amazing for him to the point where it immensely turned him on. A minute later, he pulled away, flushed and panting, a thin string of saliva connected both your lips.
“How fascinating.” Dottore stated, breathless.
His tongue swiped on his bottom lip, collecting the saliva that pooled there. Your state wasn’t any better, as a matter of fact, the kiss was so messy to the point where saliva was smeared all over your mouth and chin but you didn’t care, you needed him.
Dottore unclipped your ivory Fatui coat, throwing the heavy fabric across the lab, it fell with a distinct thud. With that out of the way, he pushed you to the nearest wall which was right next to the entrance. You stumbled on your feet at his urgency but didn’t bother complaining.
He unbuttoned your blouse, first, second, third, until the fabric revealed skin beneath it. A quiet gasp escaped his kiss-bitten lips, “You’re truly magnificent.” You didn’t know whether Dottore praised you as a human being or as a mere test subject but nonetheless his saccharine words had your cunt pulsing.
Gloved hands momentarily ghosted your feverish skin, as though you were a fragile relic he refused to touch for you were far too precious and pristine to taint. He slipped off your blouse and the cool air of the laboratory kissed your skin, you shuddered at the significant contrast of temperatures.
“Hmm. Sensitive. I wonder what would happen if I press . . . here.” Your body curled in pleasure as Dottore cupped a clothed breast, palms sensually rubbing against your covered nipple. How exquisite you were, he had barely gotten started yet you already seemed like you’ve reached your limit.
“Ngh—Dottore!” Your own hands shot up to your face to cover your mouth, the last thing you wanted was to moan his name embarrassingly loud but it seemed like even your body couldn’t resist.
The Doctor let out a low growl, “Do not tamper with my experiment. This is all part of the result. Uncover your mouth.”
Humiliation engulfed your almost bare body as you heeded his words. He clicked his tongue and pinned both your wrists with a hand, “Any unwanted changes to my experiment will result in a second trial. Do not test me, Prevaricator.” The only thing you could do was wordlessly nod.
“Good.”
With his free hand, Dottore expertly unclasped your bra, causing it to swiftly fall onto the metal floor. There, he marveled at your hardened nipples, how it seemed to immediately react to external stimuli. He groped a breast, this time squeezing and massaging it, pulling a string of breathless moans from your lips.
“Now that’s what I like to hear.”
Dottore continued to give each breast his undivided attention ‘til you thrashed your sensitive body from overstimulation, “Dottore . . !” This time his name came out as a plea and he immediately understood what you were begging for, “Tsk. How impatient. We shall then move onto the next phase.” He scoffed.
Within the next minute, you were stripped of your remaining clothing, leaving you vulnerable in front of Dottore. Before you could even try to swallow down the embarrassment, his hand was already on you, toying with your sopping cunt. His gloved finger sensually traced your slit—up and down, up and down ‘til it slowly your clit, then did he only rub tight, hasty circles.
“F-Fuck! Haah!” Your back arched at the electric sensation that kissed down your spine. You weren’t a virgin but it has been a long while since you were touched so lewdly like this, moreover, he seemed to really know what he was doing. Dottore watched as your flustered face contorted in pure pleasure—swollen lips parted, brows knitted together, glassy eyes rolled back, just the result he wanted.
But he was greedy, he wanted more. He wanted to see you absolutely fucked up.
Dottore plunged two long fingers inside your wet cunt, causing you to resist his firm hold on your wrists. He curled his digits upward to meet the spongy patch of nerves there, “Mmf—! That feels good—Ah!” You could only moan in response as he picked up the pace.
Each harsh thrust of his fingers had your abdomen squeezing with pleasure, attempting to bear the force of his hand. Loud squelches coming from your cunt reverberated throughout the laboratory’s metallic walls and you could only hope no one would walk by to hear such sinful sounds.
Dottore grunted as he felt you squeeze around his fingers, he could feel the growing tent in his pants, cock aching to be freed from its restraint. He watched as your entrance greedily took him in, your sweet essence oozing out every time he pumped inside.
His crimson eyes beneath the mask glimmered at the way your slick messily coated not only his palm but as well as your inner thighs; he had never seen anything quite like this before. What spectacular results he was given!
It didn’t take long to feel the coil deep inside your stomach to start unravelling slowly. Dottore noticed it too, how your breath quickened and eyes tightly shut. He kept going, in and out, in and out steadily guiding you closer and closer to the sweet release you yearned for.
But just before you were pushed over the edge, he abruptly pulled his fingers out, causing you to shamelessly whine in protest. Confused, our eyes shot open, vision blurred with tears of pleasure, “Wha-What . . ? Why did you stop?”
Pleasure slowly faded away from your body, the high that once engulfed you now felt farther and farther away. Dottore brought his slick-stained fingers up, casually examining it under the laboratory’s fluorescent lights like he didn’t just almost fingerfuck you to an orgasm.
“We’re simply moving on to the final phase.”
Final phase?
At the sound of metal clinking, you were pulled out of your thoughts. Before you, Dottore hastily undid his ebony-coloured pants, he pulled the fabric down with his underwear just enough to free his aching cock. Your eyes widened as it stood proudly against his abdomen; he wasn’t as girthy but his length definitely made up for it, his blunt tip was a deep shade of blush, and a prominent vein ran along the underside of his cock. More interestingly, it curved a little to the left.
You could almost drool at the sight.
Dottore let out a low hiss as he wrapped a gloved hand around his sensitive cock to spread his pre-cum all over it, he gave it three languid pumps before stepping closer to your naked body. With one swift movement, he nudged your legs apart—resulting in you briefly losing balance—before slotting himself between them.
You whimpered at the sensation of Dottore’s cock rubbing against your slit, you could already feel how hot and heavy it was from the simple contact alone. Without warning he slowly pushed in, its blunt tip separating your wet folds apart. Your arms immediately flew to his clothed shoulders, nails digging into the expensive fabric as he inched deeper and deeper.
Dottore muttered a curse, lips slightly quivering. The sensation of your warm walls around his cock drove him absolutely insane and he wasn’t even all the way in yet; your cunt hugged him oh, so tightly and greedily sucked him in he could almost come right then and there as embarrassing as it sounded.
It had been quite a while since Dottore engaged in sex since he had more important matters to attend to so this feeling of being inside someone was closer to foreign than not.
Soon enough, he bottomed out with ease. The two of you took a moment to steady your breaths and adjust to each other’s body, though, you did try your best to stand as still as possible as the tip of his cock gently nudged your sweet spot—any hasty movements would cause it to press further inside.
“You’re so—Haah!—Tight!” Dottore let out an amused chuckle, a smirk plastered on his lips.
“S-Shut up.” You flushed.
Without another word, Dottore hooked a hand beneath your right knee and forced it up to rest on his shoulder. That movement alone brought your hips closer to his, allowing his cock to slip deeper; you involuntarily squeezed around him in response, back arching off the icy wall which earned a low growl from him.
Faint wet sounds echoed in your ears as Dottore pulled out all the way until only his tip remained, your cunt sucked him in so much that merely drawing his hips back was met with such resistance. He wasted no time thrusting back in, this time, with the entire length of his cock, it made your knee buckle, and your lips immediately parted to let out a garbled moan.
Dottore started off with an experimental pace—he studied how your expressions differed with each push and pull.. When met with shallow, hasty thrusts, your breathing seemed to mimic the rhythm of his hips, whereas with deep, slower thrusts, you seemed to bite down on your bottom lip while your eyes slightly rolled back.
How interesting. What about deep, swift thrusts?
Dottore picked up the pace to test his next experimental question, blunt tip bullying your sweet spot, and heavy balls slapping against your skin.
“Fuck! Fuck! Ngh—! Dottore!” You mercilessly clawed at his back. The expression you gave him was simply exquisite, your whole face contorted in raw pleasure. Hot tears rolled down your flushed cheeks and he took the opportunity to lick it off your face.
Using a free hand, Dottore reached for one of your breasts, teasing and massaging it while he watched the other bounce with each thrust.
Earlier, the laboratory faintly smelled of chemicals, now, the air smelled of sinful sex—your’s and Dottore’s scent entangled with one another, a completely volatile pair.
“That’s it—Mhm!—Let me hear your pathetic whimpers as I push you further and further into insanity.” He growled in your ear and bit the column of your neck.
Dottore unhooked your leg from his shoulder before securing both arms around to lift you up, “Jump.” He didn’t have to repeat his word for you to do so. As you jumped, he supported your weight with his hands which allowed you to wrap your legs around his waist.
With his hands planted on your ass, Dottore began to expertly bounce you on his cock; this position left you more vulnerable since there was nothing you could do but take each and every thrust. Since gravity also came into play, his thrusts were far deeper than before and you swore you could feel him on your throat.
“Right there! Ah! Right there, Dottore! Please don’t stop—Fuck!” The tight coil inside your stomach began to unravel once again and the high you experienced earlier came flooding back. It was an overwhelming pressure, it pressed on every part of your sensitive body, sending waves of shock up and down your spine.
Dottore observed your cock drunk state—head lolled to the side, hair a complete mess, face flushed with lust, lips locked in a permanent part to let out moans, tear-stained cheeks, and eyes rolled far back enough you could probably see your own skull. This. This was precisely what Dottore wanted from you—an expression so raw, so vulnerable it was an unbelievable contrast from the usual one you wore.
You looked absolutely broken and helpless like he was the only one who could save you. And The Doctor loved everything about it.
He moaned your name as you clamped on his cock—not your title, but the name bestowed upon you by Her Majesty. The name only your female colleagues used to express closeness.
“I’m close,” Dottore panted. “Open your eyes and look at me while you come. Surely you can perform this simple task, right?” You responded with an incoherent sentence but nonetheless used your remaining energy to open your eyes, your body felt absolutely limp as pleasure weighed down on you, and you were positive you’d have trouble walking tomorrow.
He praised you for your obedience and you could only respond with a pathetic whine.
Dottore did his best to keep up the brutal pace but with his impending orgasm looming over, his movements began to falter, he could only hold out for a certain amount of time.
“Ngh! Cumming! Ah! Ah!” The coil inside you violently snapped and your vision flashed white as you creamed around his cock. Dottore let out a deep grunt and followed suit, hips stuttering before fully sheathing his cock inside and shooting a heavy load. Thick ribbons of his cum painted your walls white, he made sure it remained inside of you by thrusting a few more times.
The two of you stilled for a moment to catch your breaths before Dottore pulled out to gently get you back on your feet. As expected, your legs have turned weak and embarrassingly enough, you held onto him for support—not because you wanted to but you needed to.
As you came down from your high, this allowed the haunting reality to finally settle in for you. You just fucked your colleague. And not just any colleague but the one you absolutely despised most. Were you insane? Regret gnawed at your feverish skin.
Out of instinct, you weakly pushed Dottore away, a familiar expression painted on your face—the one you always wore, the one he loathed—cold and indifferent, “This . . This doesn’t change anything. At all.”
The Doctor could only half-heartedly laugh at your declaration because you both knew it was a complete lie, after all, you were the Prevaricator.
cw. mean & dom wrio, petnames used: baby, doll fem! reader
with his lips parted, jaw slacked, wriothesley's eyes glimmer down on your juddering legs holding on to his hips for their dear life.
how absolute pretty of you to give him such desperate signs that you were so close to your climax— yet his utmost favorite must be your perfectly arched back that made it almost too smooth to fuck you in that precise way.
slow and steady, with his thrusts emphasizing on the slow.
he grips at your chin, his eyes barred on your dizzy expression as he lifts it to make you look up at him with a whimper, "you sure you can last as long as you claimed you would?" wriothesley raises a curious brow before smothering over your giddy thighs with his palm, practically forcing the air out of your lungs.
"because it doesn't look like it, doll," he sneaks out a grumble as he begins to move again— although feel it deeply now, concentrate on how agonizingly slow he slid his cock out of your warmth before greedily grinding it all the way in, easy, again— slow, unhurriedly rubbing over your flaring walls.
"wriothesley, p-please don't tease me now," you mewl, "just a little faster," before taking a moment to swallow the growing lump in your throat as you moan at yet another sizzling thrust— fuck, you're shaking, hot and smoldering at each time he makes you take his dick.
because you can feel it all, his swollen tip breaching through your hole or his lengthy veins pulsating over the flickering skin.
simply all of it. you can feel him more intensely now.
your eyes flicker to your lower region to watch wriothesley on how he's doing it, how on earth he could manage to turn you into this babbling, drooling mess of a person with his slow thrusts. how he's nonchalantly guiding his cock in and out of your hole until you're huffing out hasty breaths of his name, his hips moving lightly as he rests his body weight on top of you.
"hah, please don't tease me now," wriothesley mocks you as he laughs breathily, his dripping erection capturing inches after inches of your walls as you split and part just perfectly to his size. he was so warm inside of you that it rattled your body with goosebumps the more you squeezed and milked him.
you could taste the curves of his length that paraded themselves with one thick, massive vein, the raw feeling of it making you stammer over your precious, cute sobs.
"hey," wriothesley squeezes your thighs, "keep looking at me, doll," he adds and rests his forehead against yours, all the while driving into you with such ravenous slowness that made you experience sharp twitches all across your body, "just don't take your eyes off me," he rasps with one side of his lips pulled up, revealing his white canines.
moan after moan, you fold until those sweet, innocent thrusts that genuinely cracked you apart— and with your body trembling from head to toe, wriothesley suppresses a sudden, rasping groan when you press your heels into his back to have him deeper in you.
just something that would make him snap out of this game.
the duke chuckles, crowding you thickly so you'd be full of his shaft, "don't worry, okay?" he notices your face growing hot as he puts a sickly sweet kiss on the tip of your nose, "i'll take care of you baby, fuck— just trust me, yeah?"
In which you, the reader, is needed for a more special experiment, but Dottore cannot contain himself near you.
cw: afab reader, manipulation, usage of sex drugs, uhhh that should be all
enjoy :)
i speedwrote this bad boy. not my best work but my child nonetheless
It is rumored that Dottore has a long list of subjects he uses, and that each can be disposed of and another can take its place in the blink of an eye. Every one of them is replaceable and isn’t needed for any unique qualities they may have. This is a ‘fact’ amongst the ranks of the fatui. But Dottore and his inner circle know the truth. To put it simply, yes these rumors can be true for his insignificant experiments that need just any living being to be used, but for his more specific tests, he has a shorter list. This shorter list includes his stronger subjects, the ones that can really take it, the ones that don’t question anything because if they did that would be the end of them. You were on said list.
Being on this list had its perks. You had a private room (for being a test subject was your entire life), private wing of the lab for you and your colleagues, and a personal connection to Dottore himself. Of course, he saw no significance in this and only used the connection from his end, and only when he needed you. Although, the list had its major drawbacks no matter how many perks there were. Such as experiments on more… private areas of your life, ones you had not explored yet.
“I- I don’t think I quite understand, Lord Harbinger…” You stammered from across Dottore’s desk. He had just called you to his office, and nerves sprung to your gut when you saw the expression of a fellow experimentee as they left the room.
“(y/n), it’s not that hard of a request. I’m testing a new aphrodisiac, for torture purposes. So I need you to drink it and test it on yourself. It's quite simple, really. Just drink this," He shoved a test tube filled with pink-hued liquid into your hands, "And let it run its course. I don't care how you take care of yourself."
Your heart hammered in your chest. There was no reasonable way that, if you tried to deny him, you would make it out alive. But you'd never explored this part of your body much before; never had you had any sexual experiences, nor had to take care of yourself too many times. Hell, your relationships never strayed further from the private wing. Yet here Dottore was asking you to do what you considered the unthinkable.
But again, who were you to deny his command?
So that's where you found yourself lying naked on top of your bed, aphrodisiac in hand about to be consumed, and Dottore sitting behind a desk which you presumed was brought in when you weren't aware. Earlier that day, when he handed you the assignment, he apparently felt no need to tell you that he would be watching your every move whilst you were under the influence of a sex drug. Of course, he never thought to take measures for your feelings. Hence the fact that he sat behind his desk. A notepad was placed before him, as was a pen. His arms were crossed as he leaned back in his chair. Although you could not see his expression, he seemed stiff. Something was bothering him but you dared not speak to him.
"Drink it," He said. Chills ran down your spine; the tone he spoke in was a turn on in itself, not to mention the fact you were bare for his eyes to see. You nodded obediently as he watched the liquid fall over your lips. His chest rose and fell quickly.
His heart began to race as his excitement grew. Maybe this was just an opportunity to see you beg for his touch. Maybe for you to be molded into his personal toy. You clearly had never been touched before, but it was highly unprofessional for him to just take you when we wanted to. This experiment was the perfect opportunity for him to take you. His breathing sped up. As you clearly began to feel the effects, his eyes strained to pick up your every move.
You, on the other hand, began to feel hot. Your body practically sizzled with the heat radiating off of you, and suddenly you were a little thankful you had no clothes on for you would be removing them in front of him anyways. Your inner thighs and close began to tingle and you dreaded when your self control would well, lose control. If anyone else was sitting in front of your figure, you would have protested. But the pillow resting behind your upper body positioned you so you would have no mistake seeing the man in front of you.
"Let your body do what it needs to in order to take care of yourself. I don't want you holding back." His voice almost cracked. His legs shifted, as did his hands, to hide his growing hard-on that rose. It didn't help that your hands indeed began to roam in fear of a punishment if they did not. He exhaled loudly again, watching your fingertips glide up and down your midsection as your head rested back, eyes screwed shut.
His coat came off at some point. You didn't know when, but sometime between your hands touching your breasts and sliding down to between your folds he lost control of himself. His figure stood up from the table abruptly with a loud crash and your hands froze. You almost forgot he was there; your blissful pleasure made you almost forget your surroundings and woke you up from the hazy sleep-like state you were in. He stalked toward you. His eyes were still covered, but anyone with common sense could tell his predatory senses were kicking in. And you were his prey. You cowered in your spot, too scared to move, too scared to think. But it made you need him. He thrust his figure on top of yours and grabbed your hands.
"I can't wait to feel you cum around me. And I'm not waiting any longer," He began to take out his throbbing cock, in all its glory. Precum dripped from the tip. If you weren't already soaking for him, the sight of him before you flooded you. His lips landed on yours quickly in an already heated kiss as the experimental side of the night flew out the door.
He guided himself to your opening carefully. He didn't want to break you the first time you ever had sex, at least physically break you. Slowly, he slid in. The stretch was painful for you, he knew that, but by the gods he was not stopping. You squeezed him so perfectly that he couldn't possibly stop. Your walls, no matter how tight, slowly adjusted to his length as he filled you to the brim. You broke the kiss to moan loudly and he swore he could have climaxed right then and there. Your sweet voice, the few times he heard it, made him want to do the purely sinful. Therefore here he was; sinning.
His thrusts began rapidly pistoning in and out of you as your body grew to accept his presence inside. His veins dragged along your walls as he reaped moans and screams from your throat. His pace sped up quickly. He was built up. Every moment he saw you he wanted to absolutely destroy you, and now he was finally getting to. The bliss of this moment blinded him to your pleasure, and the aphrodisiac blinded you to common sense. His release was soon. You felt it. He sped up, and he was tense as his teeth traveled to your neck to hide his groans. He bit down hard as his cum spurted inside your walls and you climaxed around him. Your back arched and legs shook as you soared through your high and he continued to harshly thrust into you until he collapsed.
After a few moments of him catching his breath, you gently squeezed his bicep that you were holding onto beforehand.
"Please, more..." You quietly murmured, the drug still in your system.
He chuckled and readjusted himself above you, preparing to slide back in.
tw? kinda slow to start, porn with plot, size kink if you squint, praise kink, creampie, fingering, penetrative (f recieving), he keeps the mask on, unprotected sex, belly bulge, suggestive marathoning
this is my first time writing smut, but i hope it came out well. i kinda rushed it
transferring companies had been the best thing you’d ever done. moving from working under the second fatui harbinger, the doctor, to being a medic traveling under the command of the fourth fatui harbinger, the captain.
it was…admittedly intimidating at first. stories of the pure strength he possessed in battle and the frightening way he never took the helmet that covered his face off, how he held his duty to a righteous degree, but these rumors of his power were also mixed with smiles and happy members of his camp that praised him for being well-respected and magnificent. regardless of this, you were more than happy to serve as a medic while the company traversed the wintery environment towards the heated lands of natlan.
on this particular day, days after a tense meeting with mondstadt adventures, the company had met with stubborn treasure hoarders. it was funny at first, the band of thieves boasting that they could handle a few fatui and the company laughing, but they underestimated them. the skirmish was quickly ended, but not without several injured soldiers that were presented to the medical tent. which is where you come in.
the medical tent is bustling with other practitioners rushing around, digging through weatherproof crates for bandages and ointments. you were currently sitting at the bedside of a pyro slinger, carefully weaving a needle through the large gash across his back. pass, stitch, pull. pass, stitch, pull. a slow, methodical repetition as you concentrated on the work at hand.
“fuckin’ hoarders,” the pyro slinger grumbles, his head leaning on his arms. he stares at the tent opening watching the passing soldiers, carrying the spoils of their battle.
“stop moving,” you sigh. pass, stitch, pull… and finally tie. you grab for a pair of scissors and snip the thread before sitting back. archons, your hands ache. this must have been the fourth… no, fifth suture in the last three hours since the treasure hoarders.
“could you have worked any slower,” the pyro slingers says. he sits up and you pull a gauze from the table next to you, using tape to place it over the wound, anger rising the heat of your blood.
“make sure you keep that dry. if you pull any stitches, come back and i’ll fix you up again. Tomorrow wash around it and don’t…” the pyro slinger’s attention moves to behind you and he goes still. you watch his attention move elsewhere while you explained how to care for his wound. You snap your fingers in front of his face and scowl. “i was talking to—”
a shadow falls over you and the pyro slinger. you look at the impossibly long shadow, while the pyro slinger just looks up and up and up over your head. you pause and turn around to see what was so important and you suddenly feel cold.
for all the talk you’ve heard, you never realized just how large the fatui harbinger, il capitano, was. he must have been at least seven feet tall, bowing his head at how low the tent must have been for him. long black silky hair hung down over his coat, coming from the blacked out mask that shielded his face. he wore a thick white coat with the fatui symbol embroidered into the chest, black animal fur on the hood that laid on his shoulders and an expensive decorated shirt that’s collar rose up just under his chin. bits of armor were hidden beneath the coat, some shining in the bright white winter sun, it must have made him even broader than he already was.
the pyro slinger disregarded you and quickly rose to his feet, saluting the harbinger. il capitano lifted a gauntlet covered hand from his cloak and gestured for him to stop. he moved further into the tent and looked at each injured combatant, leaving you and the pyro slinger.
you narrowed your eyes on the slinger and pointed a sharp finger down for him to sit.
“as i was saying…” you re explain his aftercare and let him leave. you clean up your station quickly, wiping down blood and sanitizing tools when that very same shadow falls back over you. sitting the bloodied rag into a hot bucket, you turn around and look up, up, up at the harbinger, swallowing nervously.
archons, you think, where’d my fire go?
“il capitano, sir,” you give a slight bow. you’d salute but you’re hands are covered in blood and hot water, best to not get that in your eyes.
“have all the injured when taken care of?” his voice is deep, rumbling. it’s a thunderstorm in the distance, the deep resonating sound of a earthquake miles below the surface.
“Uh, yes. i mean, i believe so, sir,” you respond. archons! has your mouth always been this dry?
he hums and nods, crossing his arms under his cloak. “it would seem you and the rest of my medics have performed your duty, even in such extreme conditions. it's admirable and commendable. that shows good sense, fortitude, and dedication.”
“oh… thank you, sir, i’m sure everyone here has been doing their utmost,” you answer, appreciation sending a warmth through you. “is there anything the medical tent can do for you?”
“no. i’m just doing an inspection. i like to make sure all the soldiers are doing well and that the medics are taking care of them properly. if there is an issue, it is better that it is caught now and taken care of, rather than let things get bad when there aren't many options left to fix the mistakes,” il capitano says. your eyes go wide slowly and in the same breath, he continues. “it's the little things that can prevent larger problems later. that is why i make sure to check on everyone, to make sure everyone is operating at maximum efficiency. i need as many strong soldiers ready, just in case an emergency comes up. does that make sense to you?”
“uh, that’s rather considerate,” you say quietly. no fuckin’ wonder everyone respected him greatly, the man is a saint to his company. “i suppose i should give my thanks for giving the approval for my transfer. i didn’t get the chance to meet you before the mondstadt adventurers thing. so, thank you, sir!”
he regards you silently, your reflection shining back at you in his helm. it was a hefty reminder that your hands were still blooded and… were those dark circles, archons, you needed sleep. bad. after the moment passes, he speaks.
“you earned your position in my company. you may not have the combat experience of some of the others, but i am sure you have other valuable talents and skills that will prove valuable in your role as a medic. otherwise, you would not be here. you have earned the right to be here, and to prove yourself. so, in terms of thanking someone, thank yourself first.”
the hustle and bustle of the medic tent seems so far away as you look up, up, up at him. he’s right, you think, i spent years of my life studying and working under that doctor so that i could help to save the lives of my comrades instead of experimenting on them until they were monsters. had there ever been a moment when someone acknowledged that? no… you think. it was your job and everyone expected it, but would it ever kill someone to just thank you for saving their life? No!
“right…” you say mostly to yourself, but il capitano nods and pats you on the head with a large hand that seems to engulf your head. embarrassment spikes to your cheeks and you clear your throat stepping back. “i’ll leave you to it then, captain.”
you dismiss yourself and set off through the tent, body humming at the light praise of the captain’s words and embarrassed at the thoughts that cross your mind. he’s so big, everything about him is. presence, body, mind. what else was big about him?
-
you don’t talk to him after that encounter, but you do see him sometimes. coming into the medical tent to assess, walking through camp to spectate over training and ordering supplies to be moved here, here and here until he was satisfied. he didn’t eat in the mess tent with everyone, so you never gained the opportunity to see his face and while you had asked around, apparently no one else had seen it.
the gossip mill said he was half monster, that he was missing parts of his face, that he was so ugly he couldn’t stand look in the mirror, that he was insanely beautiful that people would throw themselves at his feet, that he was a renowned figure in a different country that was a spy for the tsaritsa. either way, the rumors you heard were of no help to your curiosity, only leading to more questions.
as the company travels to natlan, the weather warms and grass grows on the ground rather than hard packed ice and snow. the sun isn’t accompanied by snow so it doesn’t blind you as you travel, instead, the sun is warm and welcoming, but the weather is far too hot for the people of the company who had never ventured out of the icy wasteland of snezhnaya.
of course, il capitano’s company doesn’t travel with leisure, there are several bumps in the road, including fighting treasure hoarders and many of the local do-gooders that wanted to impede their advance. and while the fatui soldiers could handle treasure hoarders and some of the weaker enemies, there were a few times when the captain stepped in to make their advance even quicker. it worked, because who could stand straight up when the imposing giant that was a fatui harbinger, il capitano, stood in front of them with clawed gauntlets and a hidden face? no one.
and with the skirmishes came the injured once more, slow ebbing waves of broken bones and gashes that required tending, so you go back to working. for days, you work feverishly, making sure to be extra diligent in your tasks so that no one has to come back with torn stitches or re-sprained joints. but even as you push yourself harder, even as the work starts to tire you out and your body starts to need rest, your thoughts turn to the captain.
he’s a fierce and imposing man, and even at your height, you felt dwarfed next to him. it wasn’t… a bad feeling, but it did send a curl of something hot and strange down into your stomach each time you thought about it.
you shake your head as you walk back to your tent. while the morning had been busy, tonight was quiet, eerily so, but your fellow medical officers gave you the green light to leave early and rest. your body aches a bit from all of the work you've been doing hunched over backs and legs and arms and chest suturing them or resetting them back into place… but even with your body hurting a bit, you feel accomplished, like nothing can wipe off the satisfaction of a job well done. you know that you've done good work, and as you head into your tent, it gives you a little bit of pride to realize that all of that work has paid off.
as soon as you get into your tent, you can't help it. you can feel the pull to think about the captain. your body might be tired, but your mind is buzzing and as you lay in your tent, the memory of his gentleness still lives in your mind. you want to know more, and now you hope for his attention.
wait! he doesn’t even know my name, you think, but… maybe he could. will he even want to talk to you further? do you think you'll get another chance to speak with him? what would even lead to such a turn? how would it go?
you shake your head to clear the thoughts and sigh. he’s a harbinger and i’m just a no-name medic in his eyes, you think, why would he even care?
you need to get some rest. you snuff out the lamp in your tent and close your eyes, trying to get that much needed sleep, you know, the things you’ve been neglecting since the skirmishes and all the injured patients.
bugs buzz and chirp in the dark of the night and you sigh, rolling over onto your side to get comfortable.
chirp! il capitano…
chirp! il capitano…
chirp! il capitano…
your eyes are wide open and anger builds in your bones, steeping your blood in it. you grind your teeth and snatch a fresh pair of clothes up from your pack, throwing open the tent flap and stalking out. maybe a quick dip in the lake with soothe your nerves.
it’s rather lucky that the company settled where they did. through a small patch of trees is a glistening lake. the company fishes out of it for fresh meat, but they mostly use it to bathe and relax as the captain plots the next move through this unfamiliar territory.
it's a peaceful night, in contrast to the hustle and bustle of camp. if the peace is nice, and if your luck holds, you’ll are able to relax. you make your way through the trees slowly, taking in the night air. something about the air at night is always more soothing that during the day, maybe its because its cooler, but whatever it is, it makes the ball of stress that knots up and grows in your chest relax. the water of the lake is quiet and still through the trees, and the stars in the sky reflect off of the calm waters. as you make your way down the side of the camp, you hear some movement up ahead.
greeeeaaat. Someone beat me to a midnight dip.
there’s someone in the distance. from the tree, its hard to make out any details, but… could it be a spy? could it be some nosey ass treasure hoarders? fuck… if it’s a spy, maybe you can be stealthy and put a stop to them.
a little voice in the back of your head whispers mockingly, you’re a medic. what are you going to do, heal them to death?
as annoying as the voice is, it’s right. clubbing someone to death, isn’t exactly where your skills lie, but being quiet and calm is. you make your way carefully, hiding behind brush and tree trunks as the lake gets closer and closer.
as the lake comes into full view, it is clear that there is only one man, sitting by the water's edge on a boulder. he's alone, as far as you can see, and sits with his back turned to you. he's silent, not making a sound nor moving, except for every so often when he takes a deep breath. even from the hidden spot you watch from, you become increasingly more bored as he just… just stands there, doing nothing, saying nothing. after a few more brave steps forward, you get a better look at him. he has long hair that hangs down his shoulders and a blacked out helm covering his head. he’s shed the heavy cloak and instead wears a thin buttoned shirt that strains across his muscles as he breathes.
huh?
you step out of the shadows and announce your presence quietly. “capitano, sir?”
he stays still and silent as if he hasn't heard you, but after a few seconds, capitano’s head swivels around to the source of your voice. he rises to his feet and even from this distance, he's tall and imposing. just seeing him gives you a little shiver as his face turns to you, and your heart skips a beat at being seen by him.
“what is it?” there's a certain coldness to his tone, but as far as you can tell he's not angry… maybe. you did just interrupt his—well whatever he was doing. one thing you are sure of right now is that you have his full attention now. whether that’s a good thing or bad is still under debate, you think.
“sorry, sir.” better to start off with an apology, you’ve learned, especially when it comes to harbingers. “i didn’t mean to interrupt you, i wasn’t aware anyone else was here. i’ll take my leave.”
you turn and begin to pick your way back through the underbrush and even as you turn to leave, you still feel capitano’s presence at your back. you can feel the weight of his eyes on you like a hawk, even through the helm that obscures your view of them.
“... come back.” his words fill the stretch of distance between the two of you, strong and unmoving. his voice is deep and confidence and filled with a strange certainty that makes it clear this is not a choice.
the air is punched out of your lungs. you must obey the orders of a harbinger, this well-respected and gentle giant is not different, so you slowly turn back around, clutching your clothes in your hand. each step forward feels heavy and like they stretch miles and before you even realize it, he stands just a few feet away from you.
his arms are crossed over his broad chest, like he’s taking a moment to think. every second, makes your heart beat just a little faster and all you can think is that you should get your blood pressure checked soon. his helm bore down at you and in the dark, it’s much more terrifying. this must be what enemies see and feel when they face him.
archons, i think i’m gonna pass out. is this normal? are my hands sweating? i can’t fucking tell because everything is sweating.
the coldness from before is still in the air, but he seems patient, thinking, then finally he speaks. this tone is plain, as if he doesn’t have the time to embellish the word he says. it's clear that he likes things to be straight to the point and not to repeat himself.
“sit.”
the air is far too warm and with your heart beating like a drum in your ears, it’s hard to say if you heard him right. you stand there for a moment, staring at him from the respectful distance you’ve kept and blink in confusion. sit? where? does he…is he trying to make me sit at his fucking feet? what?
“i’m…i’m sorry?”
“sit,” he repeats, his tone soft. he gestures to the boulder he’d previously occupied and you go wide eyed and let out the breath you were holding. you want to laugh, because—archons!—what were you thinking!? i mean, shit, have i become a total pervert these days?
you cross the distance, your nervous shot to hell and back, and sit on the boulder, slowly looking up, up, up at his masked face. your heart still hasn’t slowed its panicked rhythm and, honestly, the darkness and the whole ‘sit’ things was kinda hot, if not completely stressful.
his words are soft and slow, like with each word he’s trying to carefully and purposefully choosing what he's going to say. his voice is deep and the words seem to come out easily with a quiet intensity that is hard to really understand unless one was him.
“you are very obedient…”
jaw dropping would not be an accurate way to describe the reaction you have, but it’s close enough. your eyes grow even wider and your clothes fall out of your hand, dropping into your lap and electricity shoots up your spine and heat pools in your belly and and and and…
“um,” you try to think of a way to respond, but nothing really comes to mind.
then, he begins to laugh and it's deep and hearty, but not in a mocking manner. he reaches a clawed gauntlet out in an offer of a hand. you can only stare at it, while confusion crosses your expression, but you take it and he helps you up to your feet. he withdraws his hand, but something about the way he does it seems…reluctant? maybe you were just projecting. yeah, that must be it.
“not very brave though!”
you blink at his hand that raises up and crosses over his chest, then to the lake water that laps just a few inches shy of his boots. clearly, this was just a test or just something, but more than anything you were embarrassed. who in their right mind just obeys so quickly? you, that’s who apparently. archons, you feel like an idiot as you blush deeply and refuse to look at capitano, speaking slowly, “i’m still working on it, sir.”
he hums and it sounds like it was done so with a smile, but its really hard to tell with that helm covering. “that's fine—bravery is not always about your physical strength. often, bravery is about having the will to do something even if you're afraid. Sometimes you must do things that scare you, and in those times, it's important to have a strong will, even if you're not very brave. so I suppose if you're not brave yet…” He pauses, thinking for a moment, then he tilts his head down, catching your attention again. you look up and he nods as if to himself. “...at least be strong-willed.”
the lake is so quiet except for the light sounds of waves hitting the sand and the bugs that watched from the trees, chirping and buzzing. the stars above twinkle down and if it weren’t for the rather strange and awkward circumstances, it might even be romantic in a sense and that thought alone makes your mind run wild.
he watches you think, watches you try to take in his words and in the silence between the two of you, he exudes a wisdom that's almost impossible to put your finger on. his cold presence is still there, you can feel it—he has not lost any of his intensity, but this time, he uses these traits for something different. this time, as he uses that intensity instead of putting you in your place as most other harbingers might have, he’s using it to build you up.
you're being praised, you're being supported and recognized... and it feels good. good enough to send a pleased shiver down your spine and bring a small smile to your face.
he tilts his head and his gaze feels intimidating, yet it doesn’t frighten you anymore. despite the terror you started this off with, you begin to feel comfortable in his presence and it's a strange, oddly comforting thing to realize.
“you had the willpower to do something you were afraid of, and you did a good job…”
the praise is one thing that makes your stomach flutter, but the fact that it’s from the well-respected capitano is another reaction altogether. your heart skips and your breathing hitches and your hands sweat and your mind goes staticy with euphoria from him praising you. a harbinger praising anyone below them is enough to be considered honorable, but this takes the cake, because it isn’t just any harbinger, it’s il capitano.
you nod and he just stands there, giving you that same sense of calmness and comfort that the stars give off before he sighs and speaks quietly again, “enjoy the lake, there might not be much time to relax in the coming days.” then he steps passed you and steps through the trees. for such a large man, there is not a single sound of snapping branches or rustling foliage, but you can see his silhouette growing smaller and smaller as he leaves fully.
you stand dazed for a while, watching the trees, before you smile to yourself and decide that you should take advantage of being alone, relaxing and floating in the cool waters of the lake, replaying the conversation and praise from capitano over and over in your head.
-
in the following days, in light of il capitano’s warning, there are plenty of fights that break out. hoarders and locals and wild animals that deter the advancement of the camp once more. despite all of this, you do see capitano around the camp more, still doing the work he did before, but now he seems to mill about with some unknown reason behind it. since most of your time is spent taking care of ungrateful assholes, you don’t receive much thanks or praise from anyone around you, but the thought, the very memory of il capitano acknowledging you, makes you strive for more.
the praise from capitano becomes a strong motivation for you; it's something you can't help but work hard towards achieving. every day that goes by, you push yourself more and more, all in the hopes that he'll notice and give you more praise. hope he gives you that little bit of satisfaction that comes from being told you're doing a good job, that its well worth staying around, well worth doing. the motivation and encouragement is something that you feel deep down in your bones, so you put in plenty of hours treating patients and keeping watch over everyone while the other medics take time to eat and get some sleep. you don’t want baseless praise, you want to earn it, so you work yourself to the bone, leaving just enough energy to drag yourself to your tent when you get off and sleep the rest of your extra time away.
you keep working hard, and as you do, you keep catching yourself looking up, hoping for a moment to catch a glimpse of the captain, hoping he'll come and give you more encouragement, give you what your crave. you pause each time, stunned with yourself and confused; you’ve come to a realization that you've never felt this way before. you've always been dedicated to your work of course, always dedicated to being a good medic and a good fatui, but this... this is something different. his praise was something that you can't help but want more of, can’t help but yearn for, can’t help but find yourself craving his approval, his praise.
ha! maybe i need to take a break, this can’t be healthy…
but you never do. work, work, work, like a good little fatui footsoldier. you heal, you work, you sleep, rinse repeat. every hour of every day.
the camp doesn’t move forward, stuck in the same place beside the lake, but it’s not all bad. the workload lessens after capitano descends on the skirmishers that prevent the company from moving on, clearing the way. the camp doesn’t pack up in the aftermath, but stay in place via the command il capitano issued stating his soldiers need rest and to heal. the reaction of the collective camp was more a cheer and sigh of relief. and finally with the issued order, you now have time to yourself. sure, it’s not a whole lot of time, but it’s enough to sleep more than three hours a night and enjoy the cool waters of the lake once more after all the stress of the last few days.
you choose a secluded corner of the lake to bathe, to enjoy the water and let the tension seep out into the lake to be washed away. the sun is hot overhead, beating down ruthlessly, but you can’t bring yourself to care much because, archons it’s so nice! not far from your little corner, you can hear the laughing and splashing of the rest of the company playing around and enjoying the day off from duties and it brings a smile to your face to hear them letting go of the stoic, hardened persona they usually portray to the rest of the world. after all, the fatui are human too, and you are all just children that grew up quickly in search of ways to help their families.
in the peace you relish in, something—someone— is there. you can feel eyes on you, watching with an intensity that makes the hair on your body rise and your skin crawl with warning. you open your eyes quickly, still and cautious. if you turn suddenly, the intruder might run and you’d never get to see who is peeping in on you, so you try your best to use your other senses. there’s no sounds of movement, no sounds of breathing, nothing. just utter silence, but you can feel the eyes. then, out of the corner of your eye, you see movement. before you can even think about turning to look at the person, a looming shadow falls over you and a deep voice speaks up right behind you.
“are you enjoying yourself?”
you tilt your head back, looking up and up and up. somehow, the fatui harbinger, il capitano, had snuck up behind you without so much as a sound. and he seemed keenly aware of this fact because despite the masked helm over his face, he was wearing a smug air around him, like this was a sort of game, a sort of payback for you sneaking up on him several nights before.
you flush with embarrassment at your predicament. fully naked in the water; water that was crystal clear, but luckily distorted with your movement. you sink further into the water until the only thing above water is your head and you quickly cover your chest with your arms and curl your legs up to at least save face in the presence of the captain.
“um, y—yes, sir,” you mutter. you turn your eyes away from his masked face, but can’t keep your gaze away for long. he’d managed to sneak up on you without you knowing, he could probably leave just the same.
capitano's mask stares at you unwaveringly. you can feel the intense energy he usually carries with him, like the presence of the cold winter wind. you might not be able to see his eyes, but it’s clear he’s focused on you, taking in your nakedness, your shame, your surprise and it makes you want to wither under the feeling of eyes. he's watching you, and you can feel his eyes moving across your body.
you flush darker at the realization and clear your throat, trying to be brave and strong-willed, because while this is definitely wet dream material, this is real, this is your waking life and it’s unnerving just a little. “sir. do…do you need a medic right now?”
he shakes his head and his clawed gauntlet hands that hang by his side flex into fists slowly before he notices you watching them and stops. “would it bother you if i watch?”
gone. you are gone. lights are on, but nobody's home. shock, bewilderment…curiosity maybe, just maybe, is clear across your expression. a terrible curling heat stirs in your belly; terrible in the sense that you might like that, but you can’t show that. this is your superior many times over and that would be disrespectful in ways that can’t even begin to cross your mind at the moment. perhaps this is his way of abusing his position, but if that was the case rumors of him doing this would be swarming with the women of the company, swarming through the women of the whole fatui.
and in the time all these thoughts have shot through your head, it’s only been moments of your silent shock. you try to manage your expression into something professional, but despite your efforts, the deep blush on your skin seems to counter you. the masked harbinger tilts his head like he’s waiting to hear your answer.
“s—sir, i do not, um, think that’s appropriate.”
“oh? do i make you uncomfortable?” his voice is quiet, but powerful. he expects honesty and he wants an answer no matter what it might be.
in general, you do not feel uncomfortable with him, but at the moment? just a little. it’s not a situation anyone would truly be okay with in terms of their superior watching, but the spike of something in your belly and feeling of heat curling in your pussy tells of something different.
you look down at the water ahead of you and swallow, trying not to stumble over your words as you explain, “that’s…that’s not it, sir. i just…don’t think it’s…professionally appropriate or acceptable. if i, uh, let you watch, the company might assume i’m trying to seduce you for my own gains and if they see you watching me, the company might think you're using your position to be…inappropriate with me. it’s not a good outcome for either of us, sir.”
he’s quiet for a pregnant pause, then he hums as if he’s come to the perfect answer. “so if it weren't for the company…would you think it was fine?” everything about him seems to be so calculating, so deliberate, you can't help but be transfixed by his presence. then adds something quickly. “assuming it was just you and me, of course.”
you can still hear the horseplaying from the other fatui just on the other side of the sandbank and it is nerve wracking. just feet from them, their superior is revealing himself to be a peeping tom and they are none the wiser, but…but…
but what if they see, whispers that tiny rational voice in the back of your mind.
“well?”
you look back up to his masked face and he clearly finds this amusing, especially with the smug way he holds himself now and if that isn’t killer already, then the fact that he’s looming over you roving his eyes over whatever body parts are still exposed is. a little part of you wants to rise out of the water and let him see the rest, but the more prominent part of you sinks her claws deep and screams, what if they see?! what about your position!
“i think the answer to that is clear, sir,” you say, meeting a happy medium between both sides of your hormonal brain.
he seems satisfied with the answer and lowers into a crouch which doesn’t make much of a difference in height because even with lowering himself down, he still seems to tower over you. he reaches a clawed, covered finger out and tilts your chin up, your reflection showing in his mask and holy shit, i look fucking desperate.
“i see. so if we were alone, you’d show me more?”
you can’t look away, forced to look into a face that you can’t see, but that can see yours. you slowly nod, and whisper out, “yes.”
his whole structure shudders, behind the helm, his breathing catches, and air feels charged, electric, volatile. it’s enough to make you regret saying no before. what could he do to you? would he be gentle? would he be rough? would he take his time stretching you out before sheathing his cock into you? archons, how big was he?
his finger slides down from your chin, tracing the column of your neck, the sharp point turning to run thin raised lines over your collarbone before abruptly pulling away. he rises and stands tall, looking down at you and it sends a sick rush through you.
“tonight. i’ll need medical care,” then the hulking man turns and leaves you breathless and in awe, like he didn’t just do the single hottest thing you’d ever experienced, like he didn’t just almost send you bursting into flames from his touch alone. you watch him leave and just like before he’s completely silent as he vanishes into the trees, back to the camp.
are you sunburned? yeah, that must be why you’re so red. no other reason.
you quickly finish up with your bath and climb up onto the beach to pull clothes onto your soaking body, uncaring if they stick to your skin. you stumble through the tree and set off to find something to distract you from your nasty thoughts. it doesn’t work, but hey, you tried. that has to count for something, right?
the day passes painfully for you, your mind replaying to feeling of his finger trailing your skin, the feeling of how your pussy fluttered thinking about where else those fingers could be. you feel a mix of excitement and anxiety, not knowing what to expect… but archons, isn’t that the best part? not knowing? the anticipation, the heart beating like a drum, the blood pumping through your body? but for now, at least, you have to wait for tonight to find out what kind of man lurks under the mask and armor.
you try and try to distract yourself, but it's no good all you can seem to think about it making time speed up so you can go to his tent. he’s like a brain leaching parasite, trapped in your skull wandering around and prodding at every thought, infecting it, changing it into something about him. you can't get him out of your head, and the conversation on the lake keeps running through your mind a thousand times over.
tonight tonight tonight tonight…
-
from the rosy orange hues of the setting sun and the night reaching its star covered fingers up to cage the land in darkness, the night falls slowly. your nerves are getting the better of you as you watch with rapt attention as patrols start their nightly rounds, passing with torches through the darkened routes of the camp, keeping an eye out for any intruders. but you aren’t an intruder, you are one of them, but the thought of getting caught leaving your tent for an unexpected visit to the harbingers tent is terrifying, thrilling. it’s gut wrenching.
you don’t really have much to worry about though. you know the patrolling route and when they move through each circle of tents, so braving yourself, you wait for the patrolling officer to pass then you dart out. each step closer makes your heart pound, makes slick collect in your underwear, makes your head rush. you weave through the tents until the largest of them all becomes visible.
the tent is made of heavy material, blocking light from entering and to keep the noise of whatever fatui harbinger information stays inside. it’s tall, made to accommodate the man it houses, but you don’t give it much more attention as you take notice that the usual two guards that stay stationed outside are…missing from their post. either you’re very lucky or capitano planned this before patrols went out.
you push the tent flaps open and slip inside, head still rushing, heart still beating like you ran a mile.
inside the tent, the lanterns are dim, but let out enough light that you're able to make out the presence of someone inside. they're standing perfectly still, and at first you're not sure, but as you move closer you can make out the figure of capitano: his tall, well-built body leaning back against the tent pole. he’s not wearing his full armor, instead he’s done to a dark shirt, his arms covered by his gauntlets and the pants he usually does, his arms crossed over his chest. he turns his masked helm towards your intrusion, like he was waiting, waiting for you.
he watches you, letting his silence linger in the air of the tent for a moment, as if he's waiting for you to make the first move. Finally he speaks, his tone soft, but there's a heat to his voice. this heated voice sends a shock down to your pussy and you swallow as you look over him one more time, taking in the stretch of his clothes, the sharp shine of his gauntlets, and how imposing and large he is.
“come on, follow me.” with that, he turns and walks deeper into the tent.
you take a hesitant step forwards. if you didn’t want this, you wouldn’t have come here and he would know that you were wary. but you’re here and now is not the time to back down. besides, his commands are not easily disobeyed with the intensity and strength he holds in his voice.
he leads the way, moving through another thick, thick sheet separating his office area from the rest of his tent. he’s silent as he moves with slow and deliberate steps, disappearing behind the sheet and as you follow him, you take note that he doesn’t seem to be messy with his area, of course, it helps that his company is always on the move, but still. he's not the type of man to be sloppy.
you pass through the sheet and come to a stand still. his living quarters are meticulous and clean. his armor hangs on a mannequin, he has a table near you with a single chair for himself, and his bed… which is honestly the most shocking things so far because why didn’t you have a bed, why didn’t anyone else have a bed instead of a rollup sleeping bag, then the answer rings through your head, a reminder: he’s a harbinger, and as such, he can have a bed if he god damn well pleases. his bed is huge and contains a single large pillow and layers of blankets. it looks like heaven, looks like eight full hours of sleep and a pep in your step.
he stands a little ways from you, hands flexing slowly by his side and his masked helm turned towards you, silent, intense, calculating. capitano takes a step towards the bed and stops short of it when he notices you aren’t following. the darkness of the mask looks back at you and it makes you feel like he's seeing through you, makes you shimmer below the skin. what really sets you off are his next words.
“sit down.”
you don’t need to be told twice with the quiet, yet powerful command of his tone and with really wanting to lay down on that bed, you don’t hesitate this time. you cross the distance, sliding passed his hulking mass and sitting on the bed, scooching to sit while your hands hold onto the material of your pants. looking up at him would be too much for you right now, you don’t want to see yourself reflected back, so you focus on his broad chest and his moving hands.
capitano unbuckles the gauntlets and slides them off. the skin revealed below is scarred and rough, but otherwise normal. not the reptilian scales people gossip about, but they are big hands. thick, long fingers that you can’t help but think are perfect for splitting open your cunt. while in your thoughts, he tosses the gauntlets down where they clang together with a metallic pitch and it’s like the opening gunshot for a race. your eyes dart back to him as he approaches and reaches his hand out, tracing his fingers down your cheeks, down your throat, down to your covered collarbone and then he pauses as he hooks his finger on the collar of your shirt.
“you’re wearing too many clothes.”
no words can escape past your tongue so you only nod, turning your eyes up to his masked helm. capitano moves slow as his touch skims down your shirt and he lifts the hem, pulling it up and over your arms and head. his breathing shudders at the sight of your braless chest and pert nipples. his hands cup your tits and engulf them, kneading the flesh and rubbing his thumbs over the hardened buds. you push your chest into capitano’s hands and your breathing gets heavy as he squeezes them.
something about his presence is overwhelming now, an intensity that was previously unknown to you or anyone, but it doesn’t bring your fear, it just makes you rub your thighs together, letting out a light moan as he pinches your nipples. the heat in the air rises and you can’t tell if it’s because he’s so close or if it’s because his hands are kneadings your tits, but you do know one thing. your underwear is a mess already and you haven’t even started.
his touch recedes from your skin and it’s devastating, but it doesn’t take much for you to feel his hands pushing you to lay back on the bed. his chest is heaving like he’s feeling the heat of the room too, feeling the strain of his cock in his pants and it strikes a tinge of pride in your chest. you did this to him.
capitano seems to take in the view of you, taking in every part of you that he can see and slick dampens your thighs. he finally moves, his hands moving down your stomach, touching and squeezing your sides as he down until he reaches your pants.
“take it off. all of it,” capitano’s voice is labored, like the act of restraining himself is causing him great pain, and maybe it is, so you quickly struggle to unbutton your pants with shaky fingers, hooking your thumbs down and pulling both underwear and pants off in one fell swoop. your eyes fall to his own pants and archons, how the fuck is that supposed to fit if that’s just the outline?
“good,” he groans, standing at the foot of the bed. his black mask points straight at you, and the heat in the air has become almost unbearable now. is it the room or is it you? he gives you a slight nod, as if he's telling you that you're doing what he ordered you to do, performing it perfectly and the rush that hits your mind pushes out any embarrassment that might have tried to rise. he seems perfectly calm and unhurried, but the strain of his body, the coil of muscles in his arms and hands tells you a different story.
capitano takes a moment to look at you, and then slowly, deliberately, he leans toward you. every inch that he gets closer, every shake of his hands sends a shiver down your spine. his masked helm is mere inches away from yours as he leans over you and in the moment, you can smell his scent which smells of the wild, of the tang of sweat and of life. he reaches out and strokes your cheek again, down your neck, his finger tracing and teasing against your skin. his touch is cold and gentle yet it sends a wave of heat and electricity through you as he familiarizes his way around your body, your curves, the softness of your skin and the plushness of your tits, the jut of your hips, the thickness of your thighs. his hands pause as he leans forward, moving his head to your neck.
“...beautiful.”
you pant out and a soft moan rises out of your lips, escaping into the air. capitano’s hands pause for an infinitesimal second before a chuckle bleeds through the buzzing of your head. your skin burns as his path continues downward, slowly moving his hands even lower, below even your hips now. capitano’s touch lingers for a moment before sliding further down, his hands cup the backs of your thighs, spreading your legs open and smoothing his scarred hands down the sides. his fingers dig into the flesh, gripping and feeling every inch. capitano moves closer, positioning his body between your thighs to keep them open, pushing his rock hard bulge against your slicked cunt.
the whine that pierces the air only makes the room hotter, only makes capitano’s grip tighten, only makes him rock against you harder, a promise of what’s to come.
he seems to know what he's doing, that’s for sure. the way he touches, the way he goes to the most sensitive places makes you believe he’s completely aware of what you're thinking and what you want. his hands smooth over the tops of your thighs, his thumbs spreading the lips of your pussy and shuddering at the amount of slick that shines on your skin. the sudden cool air has you hissing as he runs a finger down your slit, smearing your juices up to your clits. just the brief feeling of his touch against the bundle of nerves sends a jolt through your body, tensing your muscles, hoping he moves his knuckle just a little lower, hoping he puts just a little more pressure, hoping, hoping, hoping.
“fuck…” you whisper hoarsely, your eyes squeezing closed and your fingers digging into the sheets underneath. capitano’s finger slides back down over your slit, his touch light and teasing. his finger slows, hovering over your entrance.
you open your eyes and see capitano’s masked helm is turned up to you, waiting. when your eyes fully land on him, he pushes a finger in, slow and methodical, curving it up and immediately finding your g-spot. your eyes roll back and you drop your head back onto the bed, moaning. the wet squelch of his finger stretching you out is lewd, the sounds alone bring a blush deeper than before and you moan as he fingers you. in some attempt to stay quiet, you press your mouth into your hand to try and hide your whines and moans but it quickly becomes apparent you're losing the battle.
your body arches up as he begins to relentlessly attack the squishy spot inside you. it’s not that he’s being rough with you… yet, but in this moment, it’s like he realized he doesn't have to hold back. His movements are precise, hard, as if he's studied you in his mind and knows every little detail about you so well that he can push you exactly the way he wants. as if one wasn’t enough to make your head spine, the abrupt and quick addition of his middle finger into the mix takes you closer and closer to the shining white precipice of bliss.
capitano’s fingers squelch and his pace that started off slow, begins to pick up, just that much harder, that much deeper, that much faster. he's using his strength, he's using his power... and he's using it all on you. through the ringing bliss, through your pitched moans, through his quiet groans, it’s like he’s getting lost in you... he's losing himself in the moment, in your body, in your precious cunt that’s swallowing his fingers and sucking them deeper.
“so good f’me…” capitano groans, his thumb pressing down on your clit, the pressure a threat to fling you over the edge and he lets out a sigh before his thumb jerks in shaky, tight circles, watching through the masked helm. the pressure is earth shattering, the heat overwhelming, and it all builds and builds and builds and just when it can't get any more intense, it hits. your hips rise up and a muffled series of moans gets lost into the palm of your hand as you’re hurdle into your first orgasm of the night.
but he doesn’t stop pushing his fingers in and out, in and out, pushing them as deep as possible, crooking them up to rub your g-spot, he doesn’t stop, not for even a single moment, working you through your orgasm and then some. capitano keeps going, letting the squelching of your come become music to his ears as he moves onto a faster, more powerful pace, trying to build you up again.
“w—wait! i’m—!” your hand shoots down from your mouth and grabs at his wrist, but still, he doesn’t stop, in fact, it seems to spur him on as he looks from your creamy cunt to your dazed, panting face. he watches you grab at his wrist, watches as you can’t contain your moans anymore and tilts his head.
“w—what?” he mocks and then he pushes a third finger in without letting up the relentless pace and you feel the build of a second climax coming fast. your grip on his wrist tightens and your hips rise, trying to get away because, archons, it hurts! but it feels so good!
capitano uses his hand gripping your waist and holds you down as your eyes go wide and your head hits the bed, a stretched out loud moan ripping through you. Oh fuck! your second climax comes rushing to meet you, his fingers stretch your pussy open, making room where there was none. before you can warn him it hits. your eyes roll back and you gush all over his finger and hand.
he takes in the entire view, the sounds, the moment as you let out a scream. he seems to be enjoying himself immensely, the smugness of his posture, of the strain of his cock in his pants. only then does he slow down for a moment, to watch your second orgasm break you apart. you feel his pleasure in every move, in every touch. heat blankets the two of you, like he's burning with a passion as hot as the heat you feel through your climax, like he's burning with the desire to feel you, want you, lose himself in your cunt.
then he stops, going completely still. like he’s listening, like he’s relishing in the sound of his own title, like he’s drinking up every moan, every word, every gasp of pleasure and with each second that flits by, the heat of the room rises to a greater, smothering degree. the fire, the intensity of his presence reignites, burning through you. capitano’s fingers plunge into you with more vigor, with more urgency this time.
“that’s it, keep cumming f’me,” capitano grumbles. he pulls one of your legs up to rest of his shoulder and prods his fingers against the soft spot inside you, insistently. there’s definitely a smile on his face, one hidden from you, but it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t have the masked helm on, because the white spots in your eyes are looking like stars and the rolling waves of your orgasm are blinding.
“please! please! please!” honestly, you don’t even know what you’re begging for but your tongue is loose and babbling. your chants are almost incomprehensible, but one thing is clear, capitano’s not done. “oh archons!”
he chuckles like he knows exactly what you're begging for and in a soft, low, hoarse whisper that's dripping with passion, he whispers, “beg for me, good girl.”
the request doesn't exactly make sense because you don’t know what to beg for, but he wants to hear you beg, he wants to know that you want this, that you need this, no matter what happens. he wants to hear you beg for him.
you roll your head to the side, trying to get the stars to go away so you can drink up the large form of him, so you can see him, so you can see what he does when you do beg. “need you! need you so bad! pl—hah!—please!”
he rolls his hip, pressing his clothed cock against your ass as a reminder and his body shudders like it’s taking everything in him not to rip his clothes of and fuck you with everything he has in him. his breathing is heavy, but he manages to speak through it, “tell me what you want. tell me what you need.”
and this time, this request absolutely makes sense.
“in! need you inside! have to have you in me, please, capitano, please!” you plead, hands tightening around his slowing wrist. his head tips back and a groan rumbles from his throat before he’s pulling his cum covered fingers from your wrecked pussy. it’s ungodly how his fingers shine in the dim lantern light of the room. he begins to unbuckle his belt slowly, masked helm watching you writhing in anticipation and the slowly calming waves of your pleasure. when he pulls his pants and underwear down to his thighs, your eyes go wide as his dick springs free from its confines and archons, is that going to fit?
the tip is a deep red, aching and leaking thick rivets of pre that smear over the slit. in his hand it looks like a normal size, but to you, it’s a weapon. a thick vein runs from tip to base and as he runs a hand up and down, using your cum as a lube, you see him twitching, his cock jumping at his touch. he squeezes his fist around the base, pulling upwards until he reaches the tip, pushing for pre through the slit.
he groans when he releases himself, stepping forward and grabbing your ankles, pulling you to the edge of the bed until your ass is just barely hanging on. you push yourself onto your elbows, eyes glazed over and thighs wet, as you stare at him. he guides your legs around his waist and then holds himself, hot and heavy, putting the tip to your cunt.
capitano watches you through the masked helm as your breathing hitches and he slowly pushes himself into your pussy. your elbows aren’t enough to hold you up as you throw your head back and cover your face with your hands. it’s pain. it’s agony, it’s pleasure. it’s better than your previous imagination. and as your moans grow in pitch and turn into sobs, it’s all worth it. euphoria crawls up your spine, crawling into your skin and leaving no room for anything else.
every inch is torture, every inch is a delight. you can feel your very blood burning with every slow second, every slow inch, like capitano’s every touch is fire itself. his every move is like a flame consuming you, eating you up. every motion is building to a peak, every motion... every breath... every inch... a wave of pain and pleasure, consuming you, sweeping you away.
“c—capitano! too big! too big!”
he doesn’t stop until all of him is in all of you, until he’s bottomed out in your fluttering cunt, until he pauses to take a deep breath. his hands slid along your body, squeezing, pinching, pulling at your skin before he smooths them to your belly, hovering over your skin.
“you took all of me,” he says, amazement in his words. “fuck…” then he presses on the outline of him in your stomach and you arch, squeezing around his cock and gasping out. “so good f’me.”
his hand slides from your belly and both run down to grasp at your hips. his grip is strong and firm, his touch soft and blisteringly hot.
capitano’s first thrust is slow, but strong, meeting your hips with a bruising force and that’s the last time he’s slow. each squelch of your cunt stretching around him, taking him down to the base, sucking him back in drives him to do more, give more, take more. it hurts, he’s so big, too big, but the force of his every movement sends wave after wave after wave of the most incredible pleasure through you. it's all consuming, it's like a tide, a push and pull of heat and passion and pleasure so overwhelming you can barely speak a word, and the words you can are hardly coherent, just the babblings of an already fucked out cocksleeve.
there are no thoughts in your head, only the feelings of him stretching you out and filling you up and pleasure like nothing known before. between the sensual touches at the start and his fingers before, this leaves you brainless and dumb.
already there’s a building of pleasure in your belly, building up up up up with each hard, strong thrust of capitano’s cock into you, pummeling you, abusing you. your moans reverberate through the room, picking up as he bullies his cock into you, like he knows you're getting close again. his pace speeds up ever so slightly and his grip gets even stronger, fingers holding you in place with bruising strength.
“so tight, so perfect,” he groans, dropping his head a little, panting. “made f’me. this pussy was molded for me!”
“fuck, fuck! i’m…i’m—”
he gives a particularly hard thrust, choking you up and he chuckles darkly at the noises you make, his own personal orchestra. he shakes his head and pulls you more flush against him, his hands start to roam, plucking at your tight nipples, squeezing at the flesh of your tits. his touch moves up to your neck, soft, restrained like he wants to wrap his hands around your throat and feel you tighten around him, but his hands return to your hips as he looks down to see your pussy swallowing him up and your belly poking out with each slam of his hips against yours.
“such a good girl. ah… fuck,” he breathes, his body solid and heavy. His thumb moves down to press at your clit, rubbing quick circles on the nerves, trying to throw you into another orgasm, craving to feel you clench down around him and pulse.
“capitano! i’m gonna—i’m gonna…!”
“let go, my good girl. cum f’me,” capitano growls out putting more pressure behind his thrusts, behind his rubbing thumb.
every move he exacts is making the building pressure turn into something incredible, building to a height you didn’t know existed, building to a high. and for the third time this night, you hit the wall of pleasure and arch up into him, biting down on your hand and screaming as your climax sweeps through you.
“capitano! i’m cumming!”
he throws his head back as your cunt grips him, and stills your hips against his. you feel the heavy warm twitches of him reach his peak, letting his cum coat your walls in the same moment as you and it’s euphoric, devastating, mind blowing. you stay still, body flushed in sweat and eyes glazed over, heart jackrabbiting in your chest and voice still letting out light moans as he heaves.
when capitano finally moves, he pulls himself free from the suction of your body, his masked helm pointed to where you’re bodies connect. he watches as his still hard cock pops out and cum leaks down your legs, sliding down the curve of your ass, spoiling the sheets below. he hums and presses his hand down on your belly, pushing down and enjoying the way you tense and moan as more of his cum spills out in thick milky globs.
“you shouldn’t waste gifts, darling,” his voice is guttural and heavy with desire. a tone that lets you know he's not done. a tone that lets you know he's thinking of other ways to fill you up and make you feel pleasure.
you pause and rise shakily to your elbows looking at him and noting he’s still hard.. Is it shock? Is it horror in a good way? He wants… more?!
“i…i don’t… i can’t feel my legs, sir. and you want… to keep going?”
capitano leans his body towards you, his posture screaming that he’s dead serious and in fact the fire around him seems to grow hotter. he seems to radiate more heat now as he nods slowly. “Yes…” his voice is deep, calm, strong, and intense. he has a certain determination to him. this isn't an ask, isn’t a request. this is a declaration of want and he wants more from you and he's going to get it.
you swallow and look into the black helm visor. a fucked out expression greets you, sweat slicking your hair and theres a little bit of drool on the corner of your mouth. you feel a heat pool in your belly again and slowly nod. this is an opportunity you aren’t going to miss out on.
capitano’s body radiates something. is it prideful? is it amusement? is it something else? whatever it may be, it's clear that it's the feeling of a man who's going to get what he wants. he leans back and seems to be looking you over one last time, as if he's taking one last look at you, taking in your beauty and your body and the sweat and your bliss.
You write for blue period?! Yes! Thank you your feeding me. Can I request Haruka Hashida finding his muse stalking her and eventually somehow leading to sex with her, if that's too specific a smut scenario with him is fine
Muse - Haruka Hashida
In which Haruka sees you walking past the studio he paints at, and can't take his eyes off of you. He 'hires' you to be his model, but he can't take his hands off of you.
CW smut! contains praise, possession, and body worship. afab reader and i believe female pronouns. no actual p in v but fingering
an: so sorry this took so long sweetie :) life gets busy doesnt it? also im sorry hunnybun but the stalking was more-so dropped, it didnt fit his personality. :< im sure youll still love this work though :)
Haruka considered himself a pretty calm young man. He never carried a temper, never got frustrated, and certainly never got violent. His emotions were laid back and was, generally, very cheerful. Not much affected him. His art however, sometimes changed this, and today happened to be one of those days.
He was studying the human figure. The private studio he was in, over the summer until he started university, was fairly spacious. He was on the top floor so a skylight he was blessed with and the natural light did tend to lift his spirits. The windows along the side, reaching from floor to ceiling, gave him a beautiful view of the people going about their daily lives. More than once, a few would catch his eye, and he would try to incorporate them into his studies, but they never interested him enough that he really found himself following through with these goals. He couldn't get it right, and he almost lost hope, until he saw you exiting the corner store.
His eyes visibly widened when they laid upon you. His paintbrush, which was previously in his hand, dropped to the group with a shallow clatter. His lips parted in a gasp that anyone would blush at if they knew it came from him, but he paid no attention to anything else in that moment but you and your figure. You were blissfully unaware of the violet-haired man watching you walk down the street, minding your own business. It was only after you rounded the nearest block that he realized he must have you for his work.
His footsteps echoed down the stairwell as he ran as fast as he could. The doors to the building banged open, granting concerned glances from passerby. He looked almost like a madman. But he cared nothing for what he looked like in that moment. He only cared to know your body for his art, no matter the means.
His eyes locked with yours on the other side of the crosswalk, and you, being friendly, granted him a small smile. He smiled back, and took a moment to calm his appearance before the "walk" sign turned, and you crossed. As you came closer he began to speak to you.
"Hello, there. I'm Hashida Haruka, it's very nice to meet you," He began, his voice commanding your attention. Now that he was this close to you, he began to get nervous for arguably the first time in his life. Your beautiful eyes looked up at him and ur hair flowed gently in the breeze of the city. You had a gentle blue sundress on accented by a white cardigan and your purse over your shoulder. He couldn't stop staring at you and how those clothes were hiding your beauty. He wanted to see you.
"Hi! I'm (y/n)." You offered shyly, walking past him awkwardly. Yes, he was beautiful, but it was strange that he suddenly introduced himself to you.
"Sorry, (y/n), I just... are you in school? I thought I've seen you before and wanted to introduce myself."
"Uh, no, I'm not, I'm attending next year."
"Might I ask what you're doing all alone, then?"
"I'm looking for a job right now, to keep myself occupied until then." You admitted. He was being nice after all, so you might as well be nice back.
"Oh! Actually, that's wonderful, because that's what I wanted to speak to you about." He paused. This was divine intervention, he was sure. You needed a job and he had one to give. He was sure you wouldn't mind the job, no matter the... provocativity of it. He gently put his arm around you and led you two to the front of his building, a ways off the sidewalk.
"Oh? Do you have one for me?" You asked. "It's a bit odd to offer a job to a random woman on the street, I must admit."
He turned you to face him. "Yes, I know, but it's so specific and I've been looking for someone to take it every day. You see I work up there-" He pointed to his studio in the sky, "And I watch for people like you every day. Truly beautiful people, whom I know have a beautiful figure under all of this." His hands, slowly, grabbed at the fabric around your hips, and you blushed at the proximity of him and his intentions.
"I promise it will be worth your time, and you'll be payed well. I just need you as my... muse. It will be very simple (y/n)." His breath was right on your lips as he leaned close in his intensity. He didn't want to lose a beautiful opportunity such as this.
Your head raced as your lips answered before your mind could reason.
"Yes,"
The moments after were a blur. You were rushed upstairs, into his studio, given a robe and told to change, until you found yourself on a pedestal. Haruka was behind his canvas, and words that told you to remove the robe flowed through your ears. You paused. He got up from his canvas and strode toward you. It didn't matter the height of the pedestal, he was still taller than you.
"Come on, this needs to come off," He breathed. His proximity made the cold room feel hot, your skin burning in the wake of his gentle hands pulling the robe off of your shoulders. You let him. The fabric went down, exposing your bosom, then your waist, then your hips, and suddenly it was on the floor and his eyes widened once more.
"You're a goddess," He whispered, taking a small step back. Your arms clasped behind you for fear that he would be mad if you covered yourself. A deep red blush decorated your cheeks. You looked like an angel to him. So much more divine than all the other people he'd seen. Nobody could ever compare to you. It didn't matter the amount of body fat you had, it didn't matter because it framed you. It was you. He was in love, in lust, and didn't want to waste the moment. But despite what you thought he would do, quickly return to his canvas, he took another step forward till he was so close to your face.
"Art can wait. It would be a sin against you to not relish in the body you've been blessed with," And with that his lips met yours.
It was electric. His soft lips decorated yours with gentle love and you melted into him. His arms gently made their way to your shoulders again, one hand straying down to the small of your back. He pressed you closer into him. He groaned into the kiss and you involuntarily moaned in response.
"Please..." You broke the kiss, not sure what you're asking for. His eyes bore into yours as he began to take off his coat. As he peeled his layers off, he haphazardly reconnected your lips and your hands joined his in removing his top until hands were everywhere, bodies exposed to one another. Only his boxers remained and he was getting impatient to pleasure you.
His hands went to your legs and he pulled you onto him, carrying you to one of the clean countertops of his studio. The coldness stung your thighs as he set you down, but your focus was reassigned to his hand getting dangerously close to your cunt. And suddenly his fingers were on your intimate parts, drawing moans out of you and onto his lips. He worked your clit, doing wonders to you, before his fingers entered your hole. His unoccupied hand grabbed your breast and began to fondle it.
"Oh, sweet thing, I know," He whispered onto your lips after he curled his fingers. Your eyes were screwed shut as you were sent places you could never have taken yourself. His fingers reached so deep inside you anyone would consider it unholy. He didn't care, neither did you. Those digits made you a puddle and he relished in it. It was bliss, and he knew what he was doing. His eyes didn't leave your face. Such an angel as you deserved to be treated to the most glorious of pleasures, he thought, and he sped up his movements so you could feel yourself a climax you'd never had before.
You finally came crashing with a moan. Eyes popping open and rolling back, his other hand went to cage your side in as he leaned closer to you as your back arched. Waves rolled through your body as the bright lights above you shined down on you. Haruka watched your every move, captivated, and knew that he wanted to see you climax again and again and again, until you were spent.
As you started to come down slowly, pulsing around his fingers, your head realigned, and his eyes met yours and a gentle smile graced his lips.
"My beauty, you are magnificent,"
You turned more red, but didn't have time to dwell on his words before his fingers started to move again and you grasped his wrist.
"W-what are you doing?"
"Oh darling, can't you give me another? You deserve to feel good once more," he smirked.
Hi! I was trying to find one of your older works but I noticed the link to the masterlist goes to a "there's nothing here" page. Did you delete your masterlist or is the link just broken? Have a nice day ^.^
nope wasn’t deleted, just wonky, should be fixed now!
⌗ IT’S ALL ABOUT YOU, BOY YEAH: ft. alhaitham, cyno, and kaveh!
– CONTENT: alhaitham isn’t the only one fucking you silly, but he doesn’t need to know right…?
– WARNINGS: nsfw, dumbification, pussy inspection, infidelity (?), exhibition, bimbofication, degradation, hair pulling, cunnilings, jerking off, use of “puppy, bunny, pretty, little one, whore, slut” use of a leash. <3
– WORDS: 1k
–NOTES: im not sorry. i was terribly horny n i couldnt get alhaitham’s teaser out of my mind…anyways please enjoy ! (i didnt write tighnari bcos im gna be so honest, i have no idea how to write for him)
thinking about being alhaitham’s pretty girlfriend who gets fucked silly by his drinking buddies…he brings you to the tavern after work, his arms secured around your waist the whole time.
he shows you off like a pretty item. his hands constantly on you, lips attached to your neck, softly sucking on the skin under your ear. you try and muffle your noises by tugging at your quivering lips.
alhaitham isn’t oblivious to the stares from his buddies. he can see the strain on their pants, or the soft flushes on their cheeks. he enjoys toying with them like this.
youre his girlfriend, and his only. sometimes if kaveh pissed him off more than usual this week, he’ll toy with your pretty cunt under the table.
he’ll softly encourage you to voice how good he makes you feel just from such a miniscule action.
genre: modern university!AU, smut with a dusting of fluff
notes: whew! finally my TA!alhaitham piece is finished!! i worked for just over a month on this and i’m really happy with how it turned out, and i can’t wait to hear your thoughts on it! fun fact: this entire piece was inspired by that singular line about alhaitham taking you to the archives in his story quest ehehe. as always, please heed the warnings below and stay safe. | title credit: take a slice by glass animals
warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, dubcon, rough sex, extremely bratty reader, minimal prep, semi-public sex, use of the word Sir, painful sex, one (1) instance of spanking, one (1) slap to the face, hints of implied trauma, biting, marking, blood, alhaitham is strong enough to lift reader up and fuck her against the shelves, praise, toxic relationship, student professor (TA) relationship (power imbalance), dom/sub power dynamics, undefined age gap between consenting adults, big size difference between alhaitham and reader, size kink, sex as punishment, sex as an emotional release, choking, reader is quite flexible, belly bulge, snowballing
words: 10.9k
synopsis:
“You have been exceptionally bratty today.”
“So?” you frown, insolence already beginning to bleed back into your tone. Your eyes narrow in assessment, head tilting slightly. This has never been a problem in the past, so why is it suddenly an issue now? “What? You can’t handle a bit of brattiness?”
The back of his hand collides with your cheek, stark and sudden, the sharp sound of skin slapping skin echoing down the vacant aisles.
It’s hard enough that it whips your head to the side, pins of pain lingering on your flesh. Salt stings your eyes, a reflexive albeit frustrating notion, and you blink with conviction, fury incinerating your tears.
The bite of betrayal hurts, and you keep your face pressed flush to the wood, chin jutting defiantly, refusing to look at him.
He grips it easily with a pinching thumb and forefinger and hauls it harshly back toward him. The rest of his fingers wreathe around your jaw, clinched so hard that your mouth puckers.
“Oh no,” he spits, words quietly seething. “I’m about to handle it, right now.”
Alhaitham x Reader with a surprise guest at the end
Smut; fingering, exhibitionism, squirting.
---------------
"Unless you want Kaveh to see you like this," a deep, husky voice rung in your ear, "then I suggest you keep quiet."
You had to hold back a breathy gasp as you felt the tips of Alhaitham's lithe fingers push the fabric of your panties between your folds, teasing your entrance with the material and the pressure of his fingers as he drags his pads slowly up and down your hole. You could already tell you were soaking wet.
"Ugh, I'm always the one to clean up around here!!" You could hear Kaveh shout from the kitchen, "and why am I always the one to have to cook dinner!? Why can't you cook for once?!"
Alhaitham paid no mind to the nagging from his roommate; instead, his chin rested upon your shoulder as he pressed his chest into your back, an arm around your waist to hold you still as his fingers danced along your sex. You yourself could barely listen to Kaveh; both hyper aware of his presence yet too lost in the bliss of feeling the Scribe's touch. Your mind felt muddled, foggy; too lost in the fog of arousal to really focus on anything except Alhaitham.
His fingers were splayed across your folds, pressing into you despite the delicate touch of his middle finger barely ghosting over your clothed clit. The tip of it running slow, wide circles just around the edge of the bud, obviously trying to draw out your need.
"'Haitham... please..." You managed to whisper. What you were asking for, whether it was for him to just touch you already or whether you wanted him to stop- you weren't sure. All the Scribe responded with was a hum; one of satisfaction and one of encouragement, as if to say "go on, tell me what you want".
You could hear the banging of pots and pans along with more irritated grumbling coming from the kitchen. You squirmed in Alhaitham's hold, your hands clawing at his forearms as you tried to steady your breathing and your mind.
"Please... J-Just touch me already..." You mumbled, desperately, and Alhaitham let out an amused huff before you felt his lips connect with the side of your neck and his fingers remove themselves from your sex. You almost whined when you felt his hand remove itself from under the waistband of your pants.
"If you want more, you're going to have to do it my way." He said huskily; his other arm now releasing your waist only for both his hands to find the waistband of your pants, thumbs hooking into both it and your panties before attempting to drag them downward.
"W-Wait-! Kaveh-"
"He'll be a while. He needs to be constantly watching the pot to make sure it turns out well. You'll be fine... unless of course, you want him to see you like this."
You shifted, unsure of how to proceed until you heard the water running from the sink in the kitchen. Surely Alhaitham would be merciful and let you finish quickly... right?
You bit your lip, lifting your hips up so the Scribe could pull down your pants and underwear. Except he didn't stop at your thighs, or your knees... He kept going, and before you knew it you were helping him pull your clothes completely off; your slick sex now exposed to the warm air of the living room.
"J-Just be quick..." You mumbled, to which the Scribe let out another hum before he readjusted you in his lap, putting your legs overtop of his to spread you open.
If Kaveh were to walk in, he would get the most perfect view of your wet pussy.
Alhaitham's arm snaked around your waist again to pull you flush against him, while his other hand returned to it's rightful place over your sex. A single finger rubbed overtop of your labia, dragging oh-so-deliciously up and down your folds as if to tease you into begging him to just fuck you already.
You nearly jolted in his grasp when you felt the pad of his finger push into the top of your slit, slipping past your folds to press into the erected bud that begged for attention. He spread apart your folds with his index and ring fingers, while the very tip of his middle finger ghosted around your clit in circles.
"Where did you even put the onions?!" Kaveh shouted from the kitchen. You could hear the sound of a knife on wood; the rhythmic chopping of ingredients complimenting the sound of a sizzling pot.
"Where I usually put them." Alhaitham responded coolly, as if he didn't have you spread wide open for anyone to see as he touched you so lewdly. You had to stifle a moan as you suddenly felt him push his finger harshly into your clit, suddenly rubbing intense circles into the bud.
Damned bastard wanted you to moan. To alert Kaveh to your predicament.
"They aren't there-! Oh, nevermind..."
And just like that, the Scribe's touch was gentle again. His middle finger back to barely touching you; merely a whisper of a touch around your clit. You whined at the sudden loss of stimulation, but Alhaitham was quick to rectify that. His fingerpad pushed back the hood of your clit, gently rubbing horizontally across the even more sensitive area at the base of the bud. You squirmed in his hold again, feeling your pussy ache to be filled.
"You're really enjoying this, aren't you? Not that I mind, I just didn't expect you to be this aroused just by me touching your clit." He said lowly into your ear, causing you to whine as he pushed his finger downwards to your entrance, collecting the slick that coated you before returning to the sensitive base of your clit.
"You're so wet for me, aren't you? Perhaps I should do this more often."
You couldn't help but continue to squirm, desperate for more stimulation then just the gentle touch of his finger. You wanted- needed more- so much more. Your hips bucked upward, causing Alhaitham to chuckle under his breath.
"You really are quite needy today, aren't you? Very well, I guess I can indulge you."
Suddenly his ring finger removed itself from the side of your cunt, joining his middle finger in rubbing over your entrance. Your breath halted as you anticipated the plunge of his fingers into your needy pussy.
"I know you're desperate, but try to keep quiet, would you?"
And just like that, his fingers were buried to the hilt between your walls. You could barely hold back your moan.
His fingers dragged themselves back out, the now slick pads running up your entrance and over your clit before pushing back downwards and back inside your cunt. He pushed them firmly against your upper wall, pushing them slowly deeper within you before dragging them back out again. This time, he didn't move to drag them over your clit, instead he pushed them back inside. Your cunt greedily sucked them in as if your life depended on it.
You could hear the sizzling and spitting of a boiling pot, and the muffled sound of Kaveh humming to himself as he cooked. Your walls clenched tighter around Alhaitham's fingers.
"I wonder what got you so worked up. Was it that I decided to take you here on the couch? Were you just that desperate for my attention? Or.... do you like the thought of Kaveh seeing you like this?"
Your eyes squeezed shut as your cunt betrayed your thoughts, squeezing around his fingers again at the thought.
"I wonder what he would say if he were to see you, his dear friend, spread open and being fingered like this..."
His fingers pushed faster into your messy cunt, now angling more upwards so he could repeatedly jab the tips into your g-spot. You let out a quiet moan as he progressively started to speed up.
"Do you think he would like to watch? Perhaps he'd even like to join? He hasn't brought home anyone since he moved in; I'm sure he's almost as desperate as you."
You couldn't help it- your mouth hung open as you let out strained gasps and moans. You tried to keep quiet, to keep your noises in check, but even if you managed to remain completely silent- the squelching of his thrusts into your wet pussy would have filled the quiet room regardless.
"Alhaitham-!" You whisper-shouted, "slower, it's too loud....!" Your fingernails dug into his forearms as your pussy clenched around him again.
"I don't see how that's my problem."
"Alhaitham-!" You let out a gasp, a loud one, as his pace sped up even more. The very top of his palm now laid flush against your clit, rubbing into it as he pounded into your spongy upper wall.
Fuck, he was going to make you cum hard. You could feel it building faster and faster with each passing second.
"When do you think (Y/N) will be here? Shouldn't they have arrived by now?" Kaveh shouted from the kitchen.
"Oh, I think they'll be cumming any minute now."
You would have scowled at the double entendre if you weren't so close; your body hanging on the very precipice of orgasm. You squirmed in Alhaitham's hold; you tried to keep your legs open despite how desperately they wanted to close, you tried to keep your desperate mewls in check lest Kaveh hear you, you tried-
Your ears perked up at the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway. You gasped, now clawing at Alhaitham's arm for him to stop lest you be discovered, your legs desperately trying to close but being pushed even wider apart as the Scribe pushed his own legs apart.
You squirmed, the footsteps just outside the doorway now, but your bucking hips and desperately fluttering pussy gave away just how close you were; as if each step Kaveh took to getting closer to seeing you was pushing you over the edge.
Alhaitham's fingers sped up, his entire arm now moving with the force of every thrust. There was no doubt that Kaveh could hear the wet clicking of your pussy from where he was now.
"Cum."
It wasn't a suggestion, it was an order.
"Hey, what's that-"
You squeezed your eyes shut as they met the ruby hues of Kaveh's; throwing your head to the side to avoid his gaze as you came hard around Alhaitham's fingers. The hand he had around your waist swiftly moved up to grab your jaw and forcefully turn your head back towards Kaveh; and your eyes peeked open just enough to see the stupefied look on the architect's face as he watched you cum. As he watched you squirt; the force of Alhaitham's thrusts causing the fluid to gush out of you and soak into the fabric of the sofa below you.
Kaveh's face went beet red. His eyes were locked on the way your cunt greedily took Alhaitham's fingers.
You panted hard, your body covered in sweat as you started to come down from such an intense high. You shut your eyes again to avoid Kaveh's embarrassing stare.... as if you didn't enjoy the way he seemed mesmerized by your intense and messy orgasm.
Alhaitham clicked his tongue as his fingers slowed their pace; his grip on your jaw loosening before falling back down to it's place on your waist, your head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. He made sure to drag out your orgasm as long as he could before he pulled his fingers out, accompanied by a click of his tongue in disapproval.
"You made a mess. See?"
Despite your exhaustion, you peeked your eyes open to see the Scribe spreading his fingers apart infront of you; covered in slick and cream and connected by strands of fluids.
His fingers danced before your eyes right over Kaveh's face.
You could feel the burn of your cheeks as you shut your eyes; trying your best to steady your racing heart and regain your ragged breath.
"Well? Are you going to stand there, or are you going to come take a closer look?"
Your eyes shot open at Alhaitham's words, your head lifting somewhat to get a better look at his roommate. You could see him gulp, his gaze shifting off to the side of the room. He was flustered, for sure, but you couldn't help the way your eyes drifted downwards to hover over the bulge that was steadily growing within his pants.
"U-Unlike you, I-I'm a gentleman, and I will only-"
"Kaveh..." You mumbled, eyes locked onto him as he met your gaze. He gulped again. That seemed to be all the permission he needed before he walked over to you; that adorable blush on his cheeks only darkening as he dropped to his knees before you.
His ruby eyes met your half lidded gaze, his jaw tightening momentarily before he dove forward- his tongue making contact with your creamy entrance, causing you to jerk your hips in shock.
....you don't think you'll be eating that dinner that Kaveh was preparing tonight.
Not once did he break eye contact. And you could feel Alhaitham's hands move to force your knees ever-further apart.
it took me a min to get into it. so chrollo's is half-assed :D it’s also short but you’re already here, aren’t u
cw: i'm pretty sure its gender neutral. 86% sure. usage of pet, pretty, mentions of strong bdsm in illumi, honestly i think it's mentioned/implied in the other two it's just. a lot in illumi. yea thats all.
Chrollo
he's not very picky about how he gets you, as long as he gets to ravage your body
but his favorite position would probably be doggystyle if he had to choose something
just the raw, barbaric way he would hit it from the back. you would be seeing stars guaranteed
the sloppy sounds it would make too
he probably likes it because he wouldn't need to worry about his looks whilst enjoying you. he can just go crazy
and we wouldn't complain now would we
but the noises he'd make would be the best part of intercourse with him
because once you get him, naked, behind you, bending you over, you'll hear things like
"such a pretty thing for me"
"only I get to see you like this"
"take it like the good pet you are"
(not even mentioning his pretty groans when you squeeze his cock on purpose)
just overall very animalistic, very fast but multiple rounds
9 inches btw
Illumi
when i tell you this man is so underrated by the fandom. he would be so good at it!!
because as a trained assassin he's been taught to know reactions and where pressure points in the body are
and not to mention the fact that he knows how to torture. and the best kinds too. you can't convince me he doesnt know sexual torture. because he definitely does
but with you... maybe only for the first few times, but he'd want to be soft. he'd want to take it slow and show you that he can be a gentleman if only in the bed
gentle slow strokes in missionary as he holds you close to his body, enjoying your gentle whines and soft sighs
but after the first few times
oh boy
you're in for it, huh
it would just slowly get better and better. he'd bring in new things, like cuffs, ropes, the bar, wax, etc.
every time he would try to spice it up with you just to see what you liked the most
because he's just fascinated with the way your body reacts to things. the way your hips would push up into him when his hands trailed down your body, as you were blindfolded
or your legs quivering after an intense orgasm with the bar attached to your ankles
idk. he'd just be into everything and anything. it would just take times for him to bring it up
Hisoka
:)
like illumi and chrollo but in the best way possible
he wants to see you whine and cry and beg and just become an absolute mess beneath him
he doesn't care as long as there's tears
obviously into edging. you can't expect intercourse without it unless he's had a terrible day and just needs release
even then he might edge you, and just get his own climax. and leave you to yourself.
idk he's hard to read. but when he wants to?
he. will. be. the. best. you've. ever. HAD.
anything you want to do he'll try. he won't hesitate to try because he could like it too seeing as how sadistic he is
he strikes me as a doggystyle kinda guy as well as chrollo
probably not a constant top but will always be in charge.
also a frequent connoisseur of cowgirl and reverse cowgirl, but he's going to be plowing into you at all times whilst you're up there
pulling at your hair, bringing your neck to his mouth in a semi-full nelson
biting and sucking whilst your downstairs is being absolutely destroyed
doesn't matter if you're on top at this point, you will be shaking and crying
begging for more or to stop, either way he's going till you've passed out.
✦ warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact
✦ w/c: 3.2k
✦ disclaimer: afab!reader with no set pronouns, hate sex, heavy degradation, humiliation kink, rivals to lovers?, masturbation, blowjob, fingering, dacryphilia, doggy-style, slight anal, facial, cock-warming, semi-public sex, library sex, all characters are 21+, unedited
✦ summary: seeing that you came in second for your class ranks yet again after getting the second-highest score on your last exam within the Haravatat Darshan, you decided to ask your enemy for help. after all, you'll do anything to win this war against him.
There was a thunderous roar of chatter inside the Akademiya as a class of scholars from Haravatat all gazed upon the door outlining the recent exam results from the last midterm exam. As some cheer, jumping in delight that they managed to pass others bit their lips, shivering in fear on their desperate next steps to not fail the required course.
You maneuvered through the crowd until you were able to see the post outlining the class' names. Your stomach churned, butterflies fluttering as you when through every line until you could identify your own. You were up to days meticulously studying and going over the material over and over again. You even brided those who managed to pass the test to confirm no curveballs would be given by the sages. You had successfully prepared and memorized the correct material.
But why was your name, just shy of the top score in second place? The smile on your lips faltered, jaw clenching instead realizing just who you lost to.
Alhaitham, the Akademiya’s beloved scribe known for his intellect, aloofness, and determination to learn whatever piques his interests.
“What? Are you so surprised that I got the top score yet again,” a voice whispered down. Your body shivered, hairs raised, as you turned your back to glare at the tall man. Even in his stoic features, something about the look in his eyes always made you feel like he was looking down on you.
The butterflies that were once in your stomach seem to bubble and melt at the boiling lava beginning to take shape instead.
He only scoffed at your expression, his lips curving up to a small smirk. There was, that patronizing look again. You wanted nothing more than to loudly connect the palm of your hand to his cheek, but you couldn’t. You had lost once again, and your pride was beginning to not be able to take all the losses anymore.
“Instead of being enemies, why don’t you just give it up already? How many tests has it been since your ‘proclamation of war’? You have yet to win and defeat me, am I wrong,” he remarked. You balled your fists up nudging your shoulder, leaving him to shift so you could move past him.
“You’re such a jackass Alhaitham. It’s no secret that everyone in our class despises you,” you muttered, marching off. The silver-haired man did not respond, teal eyes watching your form disappear from his visage. His eyes narrow where you once stood before tutting, digging his hands into his pocket and leaving the crowd as well.
Why wasn’t he able to wring in his rapidly beating heart when you were just here? It didn’t make sense to the scribe.
Night hung high in the sky, the moon’s rays illuminating from Alhaitham’s window. A rugged sigh left Alhaitham’s lips, glaring at the blank ceiling in his room. His eyebrows furrowed, gripping his bedsheets tightly still fazed from earlier seeing your angry expression at him.
He knew he didn’t understand people’s emotions that well. Being emotionally was something he prided himself on not being. As much as he felt this was one of his strengths, he had enough reasoning to recognize it as one of his weaknesses as well. For being an intellect, it was difficult for him to empathize and interpret emotions, especially when they aren’t derived from what he feels are logical motives.
It seemed like a fallacy how much his heart would thump erratically in his chest, cheeks threatening to turn flushed when you were in his presence. That fire in your eye and rude comments would just make it worst. He thought it was anger at first, but that doesn’t really fit all cases he interacts with you.
Alhaitham sighs again, lifting his arm up to cover his eyes, feeling his cock twitching to life. His eyes glowered at his pulsating length, his pink tip already budding with his precum; urging him to pay attention to it. He could only curse himself at his thoughts of you making him hard and pent up.
He tightly grabbed onto his length, sucking in a sharp breath and feeling the pleasure reverberate through him. He squeezed firmly causing a moan to leave his lips, slowly stroking down to see the tip of his cock fully exposed to him. A shaky sigh left his lips as he soon speed up hearing the echoes of skin slapping in his room.
Something has to be wrong with his Akasha terminal for him to be behaving in this manner, why else would he be fantasizing about his rival? Most people didn’t imagine a person they hated, begging and whining to take their cock in their mouth, struggling to fit it all in, looking up at him for approval.
The throws his head back, pushing his thumb on his slit, feeling a knot in his stomach developing. His hips were meeting his pace, fucking into his jerking hand.
He whispered your name before biting down harshly on his lip, face scrunching up as ropes of cum finally escape them staining his nude chest. He wiped the sweat on his brow, finally letting go of his softening cock before looking at the mirror next to him.
He sneered, noting how disgusting he felt as globs of his thick cum slid on his chest and lower stomach. He looked like a man deprived, something he never thought he fall to.
Either his terminal was hacked or one of the knowledge capsules he recently used has begun rotting at his brain.
That had to be the logical reasoning for this. The only explanation for why he craves someone he despises.
He needed to fix this quickly.
Hearing the scribes finally ending class, Alhaitham only sighed before furrowing his eyes seeing the Akasha Terminal beep. A message popped up in his visage, mouth slightly gaping in surprise seeing it was from you.
“Meet me in the library. I’ll be in the 4th private study room. I need to talk to you. Don’t keep me waiting”.
The curves on his lips tugged up, perhaps he could get rid of his problem as quickly as he wanted. Still, he wasn’t sure what your own motivations were for reaching out to him. Could you be suffering from the same fate?
Alhaitham soon found where you were, closing the door and locking it before shutting the blinds down so no one could see. You sat in one of the chairs, arms crossed and glaring at him as he finally turned himself towards you.
“I know you must be curious about why I asked you to meet me,” you muttered before sighing. Your gaze drifted away, anger and pity swirling within your eyes.
“...Allies, just for today. Let me study with you,” you whispered. You closed your eyes clenching the tightly to not see what expression Alhaitham had on his face. You were sure he was tugging a rare smile on his face, overjoyed at the fact you had caved this far.
“...I’m sick of having my pride hurt because of you, losing time and time again. In Liyue, there’s a saying from a War General: ‘If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat.’ Studying with you will give me a chance to peer into your mind, hopefully giving me the next advantage for the upcoming test in a month.”
As you opened your eyes, you were slightly shocked to see Alhaitham had his usual stoic expression on, not one of condescension.
“You missed the first part of that: “If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.” If that is true, then what do I gain out of this as your adversary? I do not see this as a net win for me,” Alhaitham replied. You clicked your tongue, sighing for a second lifting your hand up to brush part of your hair.
“That’s why I’ve also wanted you to come here to negotiate. Now, what do you want that you see this as an equal transaction,” you grumbled. Alhaitham looked down briefly, thinking back to the period of lust that overtook him last night. This would be the best opportunity to address it.
“Look, I have suspensions that my Akasha Terminal is corrupted. I confess that I’m having lustful thoughts about you, something that doesn’t make sense as you irritate me to no end. The opposing feelings have even caused me to lose sleep, something that is even more annoying and could potentially hurt me in my studies.”
Your eyes widened, cheeks getting hot as you scowl at him.
“W-What?! I knew you were an asshole but I didn’t take you as a pervert! No one should admit to that kind of shit!” you barked. Alhaitham sighed, rubbing an impending headache threatening to form.
“I know. It’s unlike me. Based on most cultures and research I’ve done, people are supposed to admire their potential lover, not loathe them. So I just need to fuck you and get it out of my system, and I will go back to normal again,” he sighed.
You remained quiet, the embarrassed expression still clearly written all over your face before biting your lips.
“...Fine. Whatever will get me on top of the class ranking and to see your face when I actually win.”
Alhaitham, eerily silent, walks over to you— using his foot to push the chair so you were now facing him. As you were about to open his mouth to berate him, you gasped feeling his large palms place themselves on the end of your Akademiya robes. He slowly pushed it up, revealing your underwear.
He scoffs, eyes flickering to your gaze before going back towards your underwear, noting the damp pool beginning to form on the cloth.
“You’re already this wet?” he stated before a small chuckle erupted from him. “If I didn’t know better, I think you get off, humiliating yourself by fucking the person you supposedly hate the most.” As your lips quivered, eyebrows furrowing and cheeks becoming hotter, you jabbed a finger at his forehead.
“Said the guy who ‘supposedly’ hates me, begging to fuck me. Look in the fucking mirror!” you seethed. Alhaitham simply rolled his eyes, grabbing onto the fabric of the underwear and pulling it down onto the floor. He didn’t understand why his mouth was watering, seeing your already drooling cunt squelch on just the idea of his cock inside of you.
Two long fingers dove themselves inside your cunt leaving a soft moan to escape your lips. His head rested on your plush thigh, watching your cunt completely devour his fingers as he continuously thrust them inside of you. As if hypnotized, the scribe pressed his calloused thumb onto your clit observing you jolt in pleasure. He’ll be sure to keep note of that.
“F-Fuck…just hurry up already,” you whined. Alhaitham tried to avoid rolling his eyes at your nagging, easily shutting you up as he curled his fingers inside of you, thumb pressing rough "circles on your throbbing clit. Seeing you throw your head back, it was easy to see how much you were losing yourself to pleasure, cunt tightening on his fingers massaging your insides so meticulously.
His nails dug into the meat of your thigh that was threatening to close and squeeze his head as he lazily pressed kisses on the other thigh he was resting on. Your hands had wandered to your chest, eyes shut tight with his name on your tongue.
“F-Fuck. I’m gonna—” Feeling the pressure on your burning clit getting worse, you could feel tears develop in your eyes soon cascading down your cheeks feeling overwhelmed by the pleasure caused by his fingers.
“—H-Haitham!” you choked out, back arching as you finally reached your high. His lips tugged into a small smile, seeing your body shift and move as you rode out your climax. Slowly dipping his digits out—glistening with your arousal—he brought his thumb to wipe against a tear before opening his mouth and swirling his tongue to taste the sweetness of your slick as well as the saltiness of your tear.
“Heh. I think you look much better crying and whining and glaring and hurling insults at me,” he chuckled, causing you to narrow his eyes. Just as you were catching your breath, your eyes widened watching him tug his pants down, cock immediately popping up. He tried hiding the smirk on his face visibly watching you gulp. Your nervous hands grabbed onto your robe
He soon positioned you so your torso pressed up against the table, ass side in the air. He could see your juices drip down the sides of your thighs and onto the marble floor.
“Shit…” you whispered out. “L-Let’s just get it over with quickly. We still need to study. I only booked this room for 3 hours.” Alhaitham pressed the tip of his cock against your dripping folds, swiping it along your slit. You sucked a breath in and whined feeling him nudge it against your overstimulated and burning clit.
“That’s plenty of time. Besides, you’ll decide how long I take for this next part,” he replied. You quirked your eyebrow up, body shivering in pleasure as he continuously rubbed his tip along your folds, globs of your slick already coating the base of his length. It was hard not to cum just by the feelings of your soft folds against his cock. Still, he had to remain in control. He wanted to draw this out as long as possible.
But why? He’d try figuring that out later.
He towered over your body, leaning over to your ear. You could feel his hot breath on the shell of it.
“Beg for me,” he stated. You slammed your fists down.
“Excuse me?!” you shouted at him. You felt him blow hot air into your ear causing your body to tremble once more.
“You heard me, beg for me. Don’t act like I don’t see your hips shifting trying to encourage me to just fuck you already. I didn’t take you for a cock-thirsty slut,” he murmured. You slammed your fists down on the table again, shutting your eyes tightly and feeling your cheeks burn.
“I fucking hate you—” just as you were about to curse him out further, you felt his hips snap forward, cock burying itself inside of you causing you to gasp. You could feel him stretching you out, cock nestled in the deepest part of you.
“Fine,” he choked out, using his hand to grab onto your hand. He roughly rutted inside of you, fingers weaving with your own feeling the table shift with every thrust. His free hand grabbed onto the plush globe of your ass before smacking down on it, causing you to yelp. Feeling you squeeze and tighten against him was ecstasy, as he clenched his jaw to try to prevent himself from moaning your name repeatedly.
“I loathe you. I loathe you so much…but I loathe myself even more for wanting to be inside of you like this,” he choked out. He grunted once more ramming his cock deeper, dragging it along your gummy walls causing your back to arch.
“T-This was better than I could imagine. Whoring yourself onto my cock for your studies. T-This was supposed to fix my contrary feelings but you made it worse,” he seethed. He grabs the globe of your ass again, watching his cock disappear inside of you repeatedly. He brings his thumb up against your other puckering hole, before pressing the tip of his thumb down inside of it causing you to moan and choke out at him.
“N-Not there! I-It’s embarrassing H-Haitham. F-Fuck!” you stammered out as your walls began to cave down onto his cock.
“Heh. My theory was right. You are into humiliation,” he mocked, causing you to whine again. His pace was brutal, the vibrations of his thrusts reverberating against the fat of your ass. You could feel his heavy balls striking themselves on your needy clit too.
“I hated the way you’d throw insults at me for just beating you at some stupid test, but archons I loved the determined look you always flash when you said you’d beat me. I loved our irritating game of cat and mouse.”
Alhaitham felt his stomach churn as it did before, cock pulsating and struggling to plunge inside of you from how much you had tightened. His pace had become much sloppier, still curved up to hit that favorable spot inside of you. With his eyes, glazed in lust, he noticed you were even meeting his pace.
“Haitham!” you cried out, as you once more reached your high. Alhaitham cursed under his breath swiftly leaving your folds. He didn’t want to cum inside of you yet. No, he wanted another opportunity for that, to witness your face so closely as he painted your insides with his cum.
He quickly guided you to his knees and rapidly jerked his cock in his hand. Your lips quivered, eyes focused on his haltering hips.
“F-Fuck (Y/N),” he choked out, cock twitching as globs of his cum spurted out and onto your face. You gasped once more feeling him press his softening cock across your cheek, smearing the cum all over as he caught his breath.
“So pretty for me…” he muttered, finally moving away. You scoffed again, wanting nothing more but to wipe your face off but yet, something about it made your cunt throb in delight. You tried fixing your hair and moving up before you felt Alhaitham wipe his cum with the fabric from his jacket.
“Now can you put up your end of the bargain? I don’t think we have much time left…” you whispered. You heard him chuckle. Something was cute about you avoiding his gaze now. Alhaitham placed a textbook on the table that the two of you just fucked before sitting down on the table. He swiftly grabbed your hips, having you hover against his half-soften cock before lining you up again and burying it inside you.
Hearing you whine, Alhaitham pressed his face to your nape feeling your body shiver against his.
“A-Again? God! You really are a pervert!” you stammered. He simply sighed, leaning up again. That irritation he had of you was creeping back up.
“Call me what you want. Reward and punishment system is said to have helped many students get the academic markings they want,” Alhaitham muttered, before leaning into your ear again. “You get it wrong, and I won’t fuck you the way you desperately want me to. Don’t act like you don’t enjoy my cock inside of you anymore.”
Your body jolted feeling him lazily thrust into you as a warning, as your hands grabbed onto the arm of the chair, closing your eyes. Your heart rapidly thumped in your chest, cheeks on fire once more.
“You are truly the worse,” you whined, shifting your hips as you felt his cock throb inside of you. He grunted.
“The feeling is mutual. Now, part one…what Fontainian author wrote this poem…”
cw: not sfw, mdni, reader and kaveh are in a relationship, kaveh is kind of getting cucked. afab reader, no pronouns.
The wet sound of skin on skin. Hands pressing into your hips.
“You’re being too rough–”
Hips driving against your hips; something thick and hard, rubbing over your folds, sending shockwaves of electricity all down your spine.
“They don’t seem to have any problem with it - look how wet they are.”
A thumb and finger, prying the lips of your sex apart; letting the cool air hit the swollen nub of your clit, making you mewl and twitch under calloused hands.
Scribe!Haitham has an interaction with you(Gn!Librarian!Reader) that ends up with him seeing your panties, and he goes to his office across the library to relieve himself.
(CW: Jerking off, a little bit of exhibitionism (you can’t see him, he can see you), reader climbs up a ladder and Haitham sees their panties, usage of sir, reader is wearing panties and a skirt)
Working in the Akademiya as a librarian had plenty of benefits. For one, you were respected amongst the people of Sumeru not only because you worked for their proudest attribute, but because you graduated from there too. Many people knew you, and recognized you in the streets whenever you went out. Your co-workers were the pleasant type of people that anyone could get along with (thankfully). However, you had one perk of being a librarian that couldn’t be topped.
Seeing the General Scribe almost every day.
He had plenty of work to do most of the time, often going straight through the library to his office room across the hallway, but it didn’t stop you from stumbling in your shelf work whenever you glanced up to see his toned body strut across the room. Too many nights you had spent up late, thinking about all the unholy things he could do to you, and too many nights you went to sleep restless because only he could really satisfy you. Occasionally during work hours, if you were lucky, he would ask you where some obscure book was of sorts, and then you both got to talking about it. Today was one of those wonderful days.
“(Y/N), how have you been?”
Your head popped up from behind a desk full of books from some student that had been studying previously that night, glancing around for whom you hoped had called your name. Your eyes met his piercing green ones from across the table and you smiled.
“Oh, I’ve been alright, Sir Haitham! And you?” You clasped your hands in front of you shyly.
“You know, the same. Nothing to report as usual. Do you happen to know where Ancient Eremite Customs Volume XII is?”
Your heart dropped a little as he revealed the nature of your exchange, just needing a book again. If only he talked to you simply to… talk to you. But someone with such an important job as General Scribe probably didn’t have time for someone such as a librarian.
“Uhm, I-I’m not quite sure, let me check.” You answered. You walked briskly to the index in the middle of the room, flipping through the pages and, eventually, spotting the location of the book. Returning to Haitham, you informed him you found the book.
“It’s in section 1C row three, i can grab it for you.”
“Oh, no, that’s alright, I can get it. I just needed to know where it was.” He headed for the ladder, but you stopped him.
“You should know, of all people, that only the librarians can use the ladders. It would be a big hazard if just anyone could go up these.” You gestures toward the tall ladder.
“Fine, fine. Just don’t fall, M’kay?” You nodded as you began to ascend. You counted on your muscle memory to keep you upright as the interaction had your mind fuzzy.
What you didn’t count on was Haitham, below you, getting one of the nicest views of his life. Did you choose to wear such a cute but revealing skirt that day just to tease him? He knew such a busy person as a librarian wouldn’t have time for someone like him, but your lace panties were testing his resolve. He tried to tear his eyes off of the sight above him, feeling himself get hard. Did you know that pastel green was one of his favorite colors to see on someone? Surely you didn’t know what you were doing to him, right? The innocence wasn’t an act?
You climbed the ladder swiftly, all attention on getting the book for Haitham and not on the breeze greeting your regions. Maybe if you retrieved the book quickly, you would have time to speak with him just about… things. Your trip up and down the ladder was record worthy, but not fast enough to not affect the man who you were now handing the book too.
“Here you go, Haitham, Sir. What did you need the book for?” Your eyes gazed into his as his dazed expression snapped back to life.
“Uh, Oh, I-Uh, Thanks.” He stumbled, almost dropping the book before scurrying off like a guilty pet to his office. He didn’t realize he hadn’t answered your question until he had thrown the book onto his desk and sat down, hands running through his hair. He was glad the glass door was mostly translucent, unable to see movement on either side unless one was right next to it. This was safe if only for a few spots here and there of actual glass, for architectural design. Through these he could barely see your confused expression from across the library, your knitted eyebrows making his mind race. He wondered, what other expressions could he glean from that pretty face of yours? His pants felt tighter by the minute.
You, on the other hand, felt very brushed aside. So, as you always do when you’re sad, you got to work putting away the books that you were working on before. Soon enough the interaction from before was a small speck in your mind as you began with the ladder once again.
Within his office, Haitham threw his head back as he released himself from his confinements below, his cock springing free. The cool air rushed to greet him and he fisted himself lazily. No matter how much someone wanted to, they’d have to be pretty obvious if they were watching him or even wanted to know what he was doing. Haitham, in his desperation for some release, knew that he would be safe enough to jerk one out before he got to work. His eyes were glued on you through the clear glass as you worked. You, oblivious to the man across the room thirsting after you in his office, continued to shelf efficiently. His eyes traveled all across your body as you worked. He wished he could rip your skirt and panties off of you right that instant. His hand began working faster as he remembered the view from earlier, and he hoped he would get to see it again. His shirt, held up by his teeth, revealed his abs contracting and relaxing as his breathing became more uneven the more he thought of all he could do to you. He leaned back on his chair, continuing to get off on the image of you from before and seeing you in the distance from his window. His eyes closed as he sped up, throwing his head back again, chasing his high.
“F-Fuck, (Y/N)…” He moaned out lazily. He felt his balls contract as he climaxed, shooting his cum all over his desk as he imagined what you would look like bent over it, begging for him to cum. How your quivering figure would look all fucked out beneath him. A thin layer of sweat coated his figure. As he shot his last rope, he heard someone open the door.
“Did… did you call for me, Haitham Sir?” You spoke as you opened the door, “Are you alright?” Your wide eyes met with the scene in front of you, and you watched as his pupils darkened. He motioned for you to walk over.
“I sure fuckin’ will be the second you get over here,” He growled.
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