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@satouriiix
Reblog if you honestly have NEVER sent anon hate.
It pains me that only 14,000 people can honestly reblog this
never did and never will
weeping angel
oki dottonation we had enough time to grieve, now write me a fanfic about us taking ALL of dottore's segment AND old dottore all at once
OR
old dottore watches as his segments ABSOLUTELY destroy his wife
COVER ME IN SUNSHINE.
Ways in which your kid calls his dad. Will he get to hear a ‘papa’?
ft. Scaramouche/Wanderer, Albedo, Xiao, Childe, Kaeya, Neuvillette x gn! reader.
cw/genre: pure fluff. Reader is referred to as ‘mama’, you and the character have a child. They’re all girl dads.
a birthday present for my dearest @bunny-rambles 🩵 i’m wishing you the best day today and always, hun ! ilysm, thank you for always being by my side. I hope we can celebrate many many more birthdays together, mwah <3
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ note: about this fic… i struggled quite a little with it, and i’m sorry it’s not my best piece… this was a totally new concept to write for me, but i still hope you can enjoy, bunbun, dear ♡
if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !
✧ SCARAMOUCHE
Wide indigo orbs meet his furrowed gaze.
Scaramouche is not amused.
Or at least that’s what he wants whoever sees him right now to believe. Namely, you.
Tiny hands cup the Wanderer’s cheeks, big eyes, so similar to his, staring up at him in wonder. The little girl in his arms squeezes his face, a pout forming on her father’s lips. Giggles erupt from her smiling lips, the corners of Scaramouche’s mouth unconsciously tilting upwards.
“You’re amused, huh?” Your husband asks, rocking the baby in his hold. She stares at him, her little arms flailing upward, giggling happily.
“Moochie!” She babbles, trying to stand on the wanderer’s knees, her hands reaching for his hat.
“Hey, hey, now!” Kunikuzushi pouts, securing his hat. “That is not a toy and I’m not Moochie…”
“Moochie!” His daughter repeats, poking his cheek.
He sighs.
“Not Moochie…” Scaramouche’s ears take on a rather rosy tone, especially when your giggles are not exactly inconspicuous, your attempt at keeping hidden just outside the living room, obviously half-assed.
“Pa-pa. Not Moochie.” He repeats, bopping his little one’s nose. “And here, play with this.” He offers, handing his baby a doll curiously identical to himself.
Your eyes soften from your spot when you observe the fond smile on your lover’s face. He might feign annoyance, but when it came to your baby, all the facade was scattered to the winds. Storm clouds and lightning seemed so far away when he was surrounded by the blue skies and birdsong that dawned with your daughter’s hand grabbing his finger.
“Pa..” The little one begins, lifting the doll, as if indicating that it indeed represents her father.
“Pa…” Your wanderer prompts, as he points to the cloth mini version of himself.
Then, the girl’s eyes focus somewhere beyond her dad, tiny hands wiggling and waving, the plush doll still in her grasp.
“Mama!” She exclaims, making to reach for you, trying to climb over the sofa’s backrest, where it not for your partner’s protective hold.
Finally stepping out from your hideout, you walk towards them.
Familiar warm arms wrap around the no longer broken puppet, as your precious baby rests between your two heartbeats. Yours, steady, undeniably human. His, bloomed anew, thanks to you; with a newfound tune, sweeter, gentler, thanks to his little one.
Scaramouche closes his eyes, lashes of now starlit midnights resting on his perfect cheekbones. His head leans on your shoulder, your lips feather-light on his dusky hair, as your hands gently lift his hat a bit.
Your girl grabs one of her father’s fingers once more, the handmade mini wanderer kept close to her chest.
Yes, storms were definitely over for days to come.
✧ ALBEDO
A tug on the leg of his pants and familiar unintelligible noises pull the alchemist out of his task.
Albedo’s features soften when he spots the cause of his distraction.
Putting the notebook he was currently scribbling on aside, he crouches down.
“And who do we have here?” The chalk prince asks, smoothing the golden locks on his baby’s small head.
“Mama?” She replies, her tiny hand pulling on her dad’s clothes.
The gesture is followed by one of Albedo’s gentle chuckles, eyes like northern stars on clear nights bright at the sight of his daughter.
“Mama’s not here now, little princess.” He explains, as he picks the baby up. “They will get home soon, though.” Your child stares at him as if unsatisfied with the answer, head slightly tilted to the side. “How about we have some fun in the meantime?”
❝IF ONLY I COULD❞ + KAVEH
+. CWs —» f-reader, s!her pronouns, m-masturbation, implied accidental voyeurism, subtle undertones of perv!kaveh & bottom-dom!kaveh, wet dreams, mention of al-haitham; word count — 0.8kish.
+. PRECIS —» Kaveh can’t help it, you are just too much for him and hence he decides to keep you off his mind.
+. NOTES —» phew! The way he has me in a chokehold. . . also I'm trying a new style of writing so feel free to send me kaveh thoughts:> you can read my works via NAVIGATION LINKS.
In his memory, Kaveh has always found her engaging as well as entertaining even if he had bleak chances of talking to her. It is true that he is often teased about her, especially by al-haitham, whenever he catches those cherry eyes lurking over her, looking for her.
But lately, she has been frequenting his mind more than before, more than in one way and all because of a lucid dream. The first time when he saw her in his dreams, in a white nightgown laughing before extending her arms towards him , he gasped and woke up from his sleep thinking why it had to be her?
And since then, he has been attracted towards her, romantically perhaps and hence he stopped visiting the library during her work shifts. He wanted to stay away from her, now more than ever since he hated the feeling of loneliness that lingered underneath his skin every time he dreamt of her, thought of her.
Yet here he was, submerged in her thoughts and far away from this world. Kaveh should not, he really should not since he knew that if he did this once there is no coming back.
bubblegum b*tch - marina and the diamonds
atsumu remembering the very alive aran
Touches you with my tendril. In a way that transmits kindness
Literally!!
Reupload bcs I can't get into my old account ://
make way for mr. diva boots ✨
2007/08/08
Is it just me that gets this wave of sadness looking at my following list and seeing writers that disappeared w their last posts being like what, 2 years ago and deactivated accounts. I always hope they're safe :cc
Dottore x Fragile!Female Reader
tw: heavy smut, dubcon elements, size kink, medical play, possessiveness, slight yandere Dottore, reader is described as physically delicate/fragile, overstimulation, fingering, penetration, creampie, aftercare turned into round 2
Oh darling… you really thought you could hide how badly you tremble when he looks at you?
Picture this: you, so small and breakable, perched on the edge of Dottore’s cold examination table in his private lab. Your thighs are already shaking and he’s barely touched you yet. He towers over you in that damned mask, coat half-unbuttoned, gloved fingers tracing your collarbones like he’s deciding which part of you to dissect first.
“Such a fragile little thing,” he murmurs, voice low and amused, two of his fingers sliding between your folds without warning. You’re soaked. Embarrassingly so. He chuckles darkly when your hips jerk and a broken whimper slips out. “Look at you. One wrong move and you’d snap like a porcelain doll… yet here you are, dripping for a monster.”
He pushes those long, skilled fingers deeper, curling them perfectly against that spot that makes your vision white out. Your hands clutch at his coat, knuckles white, because you’re scared you’ll actually fall apart. Dottore leans in, teeth grazing your neck as he pumps faster, thumb circling your swollen clit with ruthless precision.
“You can take it,” he growls against your skin. “You’ll take everything I give you.”
Next thing you know he’s spreading your trembling thighs wider, lining up his thick cock and sinking in with one brutal thrust. The stretch burns so good you cry out, nails digging into his shoulders. He doesn’t give you time to adjust— he never does. He fucks you like he’s running experiments on how many times he can make you cum before you pass out.
Every thrust jostles you on the table, your fragile body jolting, tits bouncing, tears slipping down your cheeks. He drinks in every sob, every gasp of his name like it’s the sweetest data he’s ever collected.
“Mine,” he hisses, hips snapping harder, mask finally pushed up so you can see that wild, hungry look in his eyes. “This fragile little cunt is mine to ruin.”
You cum so hard you nearly black out, clenching around him, and he follows with a low groan, flooding you until it leaks down your thighs. But Dottore doesn’t pull out. He just gathers your limp, trembling body against his chest, pressing soft kisses to your hair like he didn’t just fuck you senseless.
“Rest, my delicate flower,” he whispers, already hardening again inside you. “We’re only getting started.”
Reblogs > likes please~
playing through nod krai made me miss sumeru a ton