fatui male harbingers smut headcanons w f!reader , ranked from highest to lowest stamina (headcanon) | includes all male harbingers except pulcinella
a/n: requests are open for headcanons, mostly for fatui and nod krai cast ! send me an ask don't be shy :3 request rules are here !
minors dni | likes , reblogs , and follows are appreciated ! <3
TARTAGLIA — HIGHEST STAMINA
as the youngest harbinger, there's no doubt he has the highest stamina out of the fatui men. he's very proud about it, too. he loves to fuck, and it's a surprise to no one. there'll be some days where all he wants to do is ravish you after a long day of combat and fatui affairs, while on other days he wants to take his time to fuck your brains out. sometimes it's hard to keep up with him in bed, with the way he seems to never tire. he loves every single bed activity there is: fucking, eating your pussy, fingering, playing with sex toys, having you suck his dick if you wanted it, and even anal. there is never a time he isn't in the mood to fuck; he'll take every chance he gets to spread that pussy of yours open. this man can't keep his hands to himself at all either; all he wants to do is touch you and please you. tartaglia doesn't have any shame either, he'll take you anywhere and everywhere. quickies by the training grounds, in one of the hallways of the zapolyarny palace, in a secluded spot in the northland bank, and even short makeout sessions during work. this man's hunger is never a joke, because he'll never get tired of you. either way, you'll always be in for a ride with tartaglia, as he probably won't stop until the sun comes up.
SCARAMOUCHE —
technically... he's a puppet... so do puppets really get tired? but seriously, he's definitely a freak—a bratty and cocky freak at that. he loves to degrade you while his hand is wrapped around your throat as he thrusts his cock sharply into you. he gets off to the sound of your moans and pleas, the way your pussy flutters around him with desperation and need from every thrust. scara definitely loves to tie you up too, hands bound together with your legs spread wide and your ankles shackled down so you can't move. he'll tease you, edge you, and overstimulate you until you can't take it anymore. sometimes he even uses a vibrator on you while you're tied up in that position, pressing the toy in a torturous motion against your pussy. and he's not nice about it either. he'll continue to overstimulate your clit till you're shaking and sobbing, begging for him to stop the vibrator. if he's nice enough, he'll lower the intensity, but otherwise... he'll only ramp up the speed. and when you come for the nth time that night, he'll do the honour of cleaning you up by eating your pussy, licking all your juices. and just when you think he's done with you, he comes back for another round, ready to hear your pretty moans.
DOTTORE —
having dottore as a sex partner means having a tons of other guys as your sex partners too. what i mean by that is his segments. each segment has their own level of freak, and by extension, their own level of stamina. omega definitely has the highest stamina out of the rest of the segments, followed by moonttore and primettore. prime definitely has a thing for watching his segments fuck you in front of him, it's like a guilty pleasure. he loves to watch as a segment thrusts himself balls deep inside of you while another has his cock in your mouth, and maybe another to touch and tease you while the other two work on you. moonttore is especially cruel; he'll fuck your pretty little cunt till you're full of his cum and you can't walk. sometimes dottore takes turns with his other segments to fuck you, milking your poor pussy out for the night. he fucks like a man deprived and starved, burying his cock deep inside of you until you beg for him. he's definitely the type to use a drug or aphrodisiac on you if it means you'll be extra sensitive for his cock and touch. anything to help you keep up with his desires. stamina is never a problem for dottore, because there'll always be a segment that's ready to keep your pussy full and warm.
PIERRO —
don't ever assume that his age affects his stamina in the bedroom. while yes, his stamina has definitely worn down over time, pierro knows how to fuck and satisfy their partner properly. he knows your weaknesses and your sensitive spots, and he uses them to his advantage. his knowledge definitely comes from his years of experience, and he'll use them to the fullest to satisfy you. as the director of the fatui harbingers, he's always stressed and has a lot of pent up frustration. so what better way to relieve himself than to fuck his partner? he's the type to fuck you anywhere: bent over his desk, hidden by a pillar in the halls of the zapolyarny palace, or even in the tsaritsa's throne room—as long as she isn't there, of course. pierro will give his all to satisfy you, regardless of how quick he is or where you two are. he's usually very rough with you, but can be quite gentle surprisingly. by the time he's tired, you're shaking and trembling with pleasure, down to your fourth orgasm. even though he gets worn out faster than the rest, he knows how to leave a lasting impression on your pussy.
CAPITANO —
capitano is only this low on the list purely because of how crazy the rest are. most of the time, capitano likes to take his time with you, with slow and deep thrusts and a lot of groaning. he drags out each thrust of his hips and each flick of his fingers against your clit, drawing out soft moans from your lips. he takes his time to please you, conserving his energy while satisfying you. but on days where he feels more stressed than usual, he's rough, fervent. he'll bend you over against the nearest surface, rutting himself deep inside of you till you're arching your back and seeing stars. he'll have his large hands everywhere on you—your hips, your thighs, your waist, your breasts, even your throat to choke you when he's incredibly horny. he loves to watch your expressions as he pounds into you, watching the way your chest heaves and rises sharply with each thrust. and when his body finally gives up and spills his seed inside you, you're ruined beyond comprehension. he'll carry you effortlessly to somewhere more comfortable once you two are done, and he'll make sure to ease any pain he may have caused you during his fervour.
PANTALONE — LOWEST STAMINA
pantalone is a loser. the end. jokes aside, i think pantalone definitely has a lower stamina compared to the rest of the fatui men, but not to be disappointed. he's absolutely kinky in the bedroom, often spicing up your activities with toys and gadgets. he loves to tease your pussy with a vibrator, playing with the setting while shoving a dildo in and out of your pussy. but that doesn't mean he's lazy, because he loves to touch you everywhere and anywhere his hands can reach while using the vibrator on you. fondling your breasts and ass, rubbing your thighs, marking and kissing your neck and collarbone, even fingering your pussy while the vibrator rubs on your clit. but when pantalone does actually fuck you, it's absolutely hot. he'll have his hands everywhere on you during sex, teasing your tits as he drives his cock deeper and deeper inside of you. his thrusts are sharp and rough, but they gradually get sloppier over time when his stamina begins to wane. he'll hold out long enough to see and feel you cum at least twice from his cock, watching as your juices coat his cock and wet the bed. and when he's exhausted? if you're still horny? don't worry, he's still got that vibrator and his fingers to fuck you.
testing the limits ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ a valentines special
genshin men in different s*x tropes || part one
ᡣ—𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅— neuvilette, dottore, zhongli
note !! MAJORITY of it was written gender neutral, except for dottore (afab!reader for his parts) , NSFW, m!receiving (zhongli), f!ngering (dottore), different plots for each character some are placed in genshin universe some are not! enjoy!
it was a simple contractual obligation. stay married for a year until you can make yourself powerful and known within noble society. meanwhile neuvilette could get all the forceful mothers and constant begging of other nobles off his trail, plus the divorce would make him undeemable in society. who would ever want a divorced man?
It was a simple marriage. straightforward goals for you both. you to place revenge on those who have deemed you wrong, all while he offers aid and assistance as a grand duke.
it was supposed to be a simple marriage, so why does he feel himself wanting more after your one and only kiss since your wedding?
it was supposed to be a contractual marriage, no love, no strings attached. so why do you see him in your dreams, embracing you in your chambers while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear until your waking up in sweat and soaked undergarments?
"forgive me for my insolence..." is what neuvilette mutters under his breath, patience wearing thin all while his hunger grows ever more. next thing you knew, the hand that once tugged him back from leaving your room is now being pulled in his direction. soft lips crashing against yours full of despair, consumed in the ardor he had impatiently held from within.
large hands encasing your waist, while his foot forces the door shut. he's consuming your very being, its feverent far from the softness and gentleness your servants squeal to you about. there's passion rather than the caution he had placed from your wedding day, it's like he was trying to remember every motion for it may fleet away once more.
"mmh- my lord-" your hands weak from sudden discourse finally pushes him away. breathless you're cut off,
"neuvilette." you look up at him in confusion. quesitoning him from what he had just told you.
"I-" his eyes furrow, face inching closer as a warning.
"n..neuvilette... I've never done this before.."
"it's alright darling, we'll go slow..."
...
"mm-! neuvilette! s'too fast!" his face is deep in your neck, nibbling against your skin placing another love bite. you've failed to count how many times his lips covered your body, failed to count how many hours have passed in the night.
it's restless, no sense of patience placed in his thrusts. the pain long gone and instead your drowning in pleasure, but the absolute pace your husband was going at was overstimulating you to the brim. he's chasing another high, you still shaking from your previous orgasm, yet you're about to feel yourself release once more.
"i''ve been dreading for this moment. hah- dreaming of you every godforsaken night- heavens... of you beneath me just like this..." he's groaning as his pace only increaes, you're clawing against his back mewling at him all while you tighten against him. it has him cursing the heavens, cursing the gods for having him wait so long to embrace you.
"you're close darling? hmm?" a kiss is placed on your cheek, urging you for one more high. his hand holding your face as he places his forehead against your own.
"you can do it.. just one more time..." he's kissing you with so much impatience, hips languidly moving against you, addicted to the very feeling you were giving him right this very moment. his thrusts fasten, signalling he was about to release one more time, you're holding him so tightly afraid he may run away.
but neuvillette was far from running away. no, he was gonna keep spending this very moment, remembering every place of your body. every blemish and curve, you were an art piece. his one and only.
and he was never planning to divorce you from the very start.
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ dottore || exes and messes
it's wrong. you know how defile he is. how much he mistreats you, how many lies and facades he's put up in front of you within the duraiton of your relationship.
kept you hidden in the dark from his secrets, his chaos and his insane thirst for knowledge. you couldn't believe him nor yourself for how clueless you were to his experimentations, his mania for information.
how you turned your back to his unfufilled promises of showing up, to the fake pleasantries that he'd be there on your most important achievements at the akedemiya. it's been years since your graduation, years since you finally put your foot down. so why are you here face to face with a sudden dread to cling onto him once more..?
why is it that you feel your heart flutter at more of the lies hes whispering behind your back as his hands trace you from the waist down, sending shivers down your spine.
the doctor having caught wind of you showing up within snezhnaya, he knew he had to get a hold of you one way or another. it was deplorable, how someone so dignified as him is sprawling his hands to take back the person who he believed did him wrong. all he believed that this chase collecting data would benefit you soon enough, as it did him. it just seems you never agreed to his terms.
"you say you hate me. how much you despise me. so why are you here at the doorstep of my labratory way past midnight..? hm? care to explain yourself dearest?" his gloved hands were crossed behind his back, his unique mask placed at the nearby lab bench. those fiery red eyes bore into you for the first time in years as he leaned down at your unreadable stature.
"you don't get to call me that.." is all you could really say in response, because even now you're now questioning as to why your feet have dragged you here.
"really? yet here you are surrendering to my touch. blushing every time your eyes meet mine. you haven't changed at all y/n." now one hand held you by the chin, forcing you to look back up at him. and there you both stood there, looking deep within each others eyes... long enough that you soon both crashed into one another.
next thing you knew you were being pushed against the metal counter while his cold lips melted into yours. the sound of glass viles shattering, the sound of papers fluttering as dottore was pushing everything out of his way from hindering you both. he's lifting you with so much ease, moving in ways like he's done this with you countless of times, when this is the first time in his life he's touching you so indecently.
large, scarred hands encase your face, gloves long gone just so he could feel the very warmth you emanated. he's longed for this, he's never felt so warm in his life, the chills of snezhnayas night now disippating. it's like he cannot get enough of you, he's high off the feeling of just feeling you against his lips.
"I need you zandik..." you moan, hands sprawling to rips off his annoying lab coat and the other layers of his clothes. meanwhile one hand is now trailing down your body feeling you all over.
"hah... really now? I thought you hated me dearest?" he teases, hand now pushing aside your panties feeling the pool of slick that has formed between your legs. your body never fails to deny him and it has him swelling in pride.
he doesn't waste time in pushing in two of his fingers, curling them within you letting you fall in ecstasy. you're consumed in lust and desperation for him and he's giving it all to you on a silver platter. his motions fasten before they stop, edging you from release.
"ah.. zandik please..."
"please what darling? you need to use your words" lips nibbling onto your neck as his fingers are sinking deeper into you. it's insane. this feeling is insane. he's insane.
"more.. i need more..." clawing into his shoulders, his pace increasing by the driven desire to see you absolutely fall by his hand. the sound of your slick along with your breathless mewls for release is like music to his ears.
his thumb presses against your most sensitive part, and your eyes are widening at the sudden surge of pleasure. hes moving in ways as if hes studying your very being in the midst of your high. you're tearing up at how insanely good it feels. it shouldn't feel this good, but here you are pulling him, begging him for more.
you were loving every breath shared with him, and he had no plans of letting you leave him ever again.
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ zhongli || his sweet secretary
zhongli is a boss with strict professionalism. he sticks to the rules, and expresses great mannerisms no matter how difficult a potential business partner or employee might be.
an employee is acting out of line? talking back? he'll simply respond calmly all while having you write up a letter of letting go that very employee. its his "nice" way of firing someone so distasteful.
his demeanor is welcoming yet also one with unspoken boundaries that should never be crossed, at least that's what it always seemed. he's always so gentle when speaking with you, whenever he was off to a meeting—seeing you in the specially built in the office he had just for you. his ever so special secretary—he spares glances your way with a smile that had your coworkers swooning, but one you responded with respect.
but under those gentle responses to his kind gestures was one where you wished you were the one by his side every night. guiltily you've touched yourself at the thought of zhongli dominating you as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. you yearned for him to hold you, wanted him to-
"y/n? did you order the perfume sets to give to our client?" you were currently in his office, laptop on the side of his desk as you sat across from him. he had welcomed you in to eat a lunch with him while you finalized the contracts with the new partners he had recently made business with. yet instead of typing down the requirements and agreements, you were dazing off at thought of zhongli instead.
"oh! uhm yes yes... sorry sir..." you turn pink as you're brought back to reality, hastily typing away the contract. however zhongli places a hand a top yours, stopping you from typing any further.
"if you are tired and need a break, feel free to y/n. there is no need to rush, I do not want my secretary to fall ill now.." he looks at you softly, as if there was 0 desire behind those very eyes. however zhonglis versions of taking a break, turned out to be a bit more twisted.
really, he had 0 intentions to do this at first, especially within his office at this very moment. yet the way you looked so ravishing, so alluring, you were like a treasure he couldn't refuse. Just quietly munching at the sandwich he brought for you to share, full of the ingredients he remembered you liked most. he was cracking beneath his facade.
"could you come closer here y/n?" you nodded, getting up and circling around his desk until you were in front of him. there he rose up before looking deeply into you.
"sir..?"
"may I?" is all he asks and you quietly nod.
it's been an hour since then and now your on your knees beneath him, his white tie loose, pants and belt unbuckled. his length is held within your hands, lips teasing his blushed tip.
you're taking him in so well, his one hand is gripping tightly against your hair guiding your mouth along his cock. the other brushing his hair back so he could relish the view in front of him.
its curved a slight and covered in your messy, half assed efforts of sucking his sheer length. your lips are puffy, eyes welling up from his forceful efforts as he chases for a release. he's pushing your head down, letting you take all of him in.
"oh archons.. you're taking me so well..." he's groaning, your motions are getting messier and needier. the lewd sounds of you sucking him off is echoing within his office. the vibrations of your moans is throwing him into a fucking world of disarray, and it isn't long till he's releasing all over you.
you're gripping against his thighs, feeling his cock pulsate in your mouth as you finally break free from his hold. his cum and your saliva string along from your mouth, those golden eyes look down at you with absolute desire at the sight.
"come here sweetheart", he pulls you up wiping your face with a nearby napkin. you on his lap, feeling him growing hard again at the feeling of your ass against him.
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: @uzmacchiato
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.
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 : You decide to tease the various! genshin men by ignoring them the whole day to see how they’d react, not knowing the results of what you did would lead to the release of their frustration they had been holding back.
ⓘ : 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈. overstimulation, degradation, dirty talking, fingering, orgasm denial, restraint (pinning wrists), desk sex, praise/affectionate terms, marking (?), whining. some parts were a bit rushed & not fully proofread!
.𖥔 ݁ 𝐋𝐎𝐇𝐄𝐍
Spending the entire day being stonewalled by a silent partner had driven his high-energy, battle-hungry nature absolutely mad with boredom, making him feel like he was being forced to face an opponent who refused to pick up their weapon and play along. The quiet defiance you had maintained all day is instantly shattered the moment Lohen claimed what he desired.
Pinning you securely beneath his heavy frame, he locked your wrists above your head with a single hand, his burning gaze completely locked onto yours. He drove into your heat with a frantic, breathless pace, thrusting deeply to wring every available ounce of sound from your throat.
His face was heavily flushed, utterly intoxicated by your dazed expression and the frantic movement of your breasts bouncing with each relentless surge of his hips. His chest heaved as he panted heavily against you, burying himself to the hilt over and over just to hear your voice fracture, needy and desperate as you whimpered his name repeatedly.
But just as the tension coils toward a breaking point, he abruptly froze.
Lohen completely halted his rhythm, holding his length deep within your pulsing warmth and leaving you torturously suspended right on the precipice of a climax. “No, why𑁋 why did you stop…”
He let out a sharp, breathless laugh, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His own face remained deeply flushed, his jaw locking tight as he fought down his own burning urge to finish, stranded right at the brink of his own release. Tilting his head with a slightly irritated yet playful smirk, he looked down at you. “Oh, so you can talk,” Lohen panted out, a mocking edge to his voice. “You wouldn’t say a single word to me all day, but look at you now.”
“The second I stop, you start begging.” You shook your head, your core throbbing around him as the sudden, agonising denial left you entirely unraveled. “Please, Lohen… I was so close…” you whine, moving your hips upward against his frozen pelvis in a desperate search for friction.
Instead of granting your relief, he leaned forward, his grin widening at the sight of your desperation. “Consider this your punishment for being so quiet all day. I want to hear how loud you can get for me,” he teases, his voice dropping into a low murmur as your needy sighs filedl the space between you. His lips captured yours and you immediately melted into the heat of the kiss.
Right as his mouth seals your lips, he slammed deep inside you, a single thrust hitting your sweet spot perfectly. The sudden overwhelming sensation makes you gasp into his mouth.
When he pulls from the kiss, shifting his weight to sit up straight, your hands break free from his loosened grip to desperately wrap around his neck, clawing at his shoulders to lock him down in a tight embrace so he can’t move away. Driven entirely mad by the agonising friction, you lifted your hips to grind and roll your core against his buried length.
The unexpected movement forced a low groan from the back of Lohen’s throat, his entire frame shuddering as your slick heat squeezed him tightly. He lets out a dark, muffled chuckle. “Look at you, so needy for me.” His forehead now pressed against yours as he meets your needy gaze directly, his fingers digging deep into your hips to take control of your desperate pace. “Ignoring me the whole day and now you’re practically riding my cock just to make yourself come.”
He grinds his hips hard against yours to completely pin you beneath him, “keep doing that and I’ll make sure you’re begging me to let you come for the rest of the night.”
.𖥔 ݁ 𝐃𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄
Watching you play your little silent game all day had merely amused him, your pathetic attempt at psychological defiance registering to his clinical mind as nothing more than a minor behavioral defect that required a thoroughly hands-on correction. Rather than breaking your silence through force, he decides to turn your own game into a strict, agonisingly sensual rule.
Pinning you face-down against the heavy mahogany desk in his lab, his left hand gathers both of your wrists behind your lower back to anchor you in place as he slides deep into your slick heat from behind.
Every heavy, calculated push of his hips is an exercise in intense friction, right hand holding you perfectly still on your sides to deliberately stretch out the deep pleasure, making you tremble helplessly beneath his cold, unyielding weight.
He watches the way your back arches, a low laugh vibrating against your skin as he leans down to press his masked face right beside your ear. “Since you found it so easy to keep your mouth shut today…” he pauses, his pelvis rolling in a slow, heavy circle to grind hard against your sensitive core, making your breath hitch. “...let’s see you do it now, hm?” Dottore whispers teasingly against your ear.
His right hand moves from your hip to firmly cup over your mouth, and even with his palm sealing your lips, he can feel the rapid, heavy heat of your frantic panting as you whine shamelessly straight into his skin. “Mmmph𑁋! D-Dottore…” you whimper desperately, your body involuntarily twitching against his as he hits your sweet spot with a sharp, deep thrust that sends a violent wave of pleasure.
“Dottore?” he interrupts, his voice dropping into a stern tone of absolute authority. “It’s Doctor to you when you’re misbehaving on my desk.” Dottore momentarily yanks his hand away from your lips just as he slams his hips entirely, driving into you as deeply as possible. The sudden shattering wave of pleasure breaks your control completely, forcing a loud, needy sob to echo through the empty lab as your body arches helplessly against his. “Ah! Please, Doctor𑁋 haah, it’s too much𑁋!”
“Shh…” He instantly clamps his palm back over your lips, covering your loud, frantic gasps into muffled whimpers.
“Quiet now, my dear. My subordinates are just outside that door.” Dottore glances over at the heavy entryway, listening to the distant sound of muffled footsteps passing by in the corridor. Capitalizing on the danger, he releases your wrists from his left hand, letting your arms fall forward so your fingers can frantically claw at the smooth edge of the desk for leverage.
“You wouldn’t want them to hear exactly how pathetic and loud you get when your master decides to play along with your little games, would you?” His free hand that held your wrist now moved between your thighs, his fingers finding your swollen, drenched clit and delierately rubbing it in a fast, teasing rhythm while his hips continue to grind at an accelerating pace from behind.
Your eyes widen at the sudden, intense overstimulation that hit you, your hips rolling against his touch, trying to swallow the frantic sounds building in your chest.
Dottore leans closer, his lips awfully close to the skin of your neck. “Let’s see just how much it takes to break that stubborn little silence of yours completely, my little dove.”
.𖥔 ݁ 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐀
Your stubborn determination to maintain silence all day had only served to provide him with a clear target. To Childe, your silence was an open invitation, a dare from an opponent who mistakenly believed they could outlast his patience. If you refuse to grant him words, he was entirely confident in his ability to extract a reaction physically, transforming the bedroom into a high-stakes arena where he held every distinct advantage.
Dragging your trembling form toward the edge of the mattress, he settled himself between your thighs and effortlessly hooked your knees over his shoulders, exposing your flushed skin completely to his gaze. “Look at how pretty you are for me, darling,” he murmured, a low breathy chuckle vibrating his throat, “so soaked and you haven’t even let me touch you yet. Were you thinking about this while you were ignoring me all day?”
Before you could twist away, Childe leaned down to anchor your hips firmly beneath his hands. His mouth pressed directly against your drenched core, his tongue flickering over your swollen clit with a rapid precision, while he simultaneously buried two long fingers deep within your slick warmth.
The dual assault of his ruthless lapping and the deep, rhythmic stretch of his fingers induced a state of overwhelming overstimulation. Your hands flew downward to tangle desperately in his messy ginger hair, your fingers tugging as if to pull him away, yet the gesture only pinned him closer. Your hips rolled helplessly against his face, entirely unable to resist the piercing friction.
Pausing for a brief fraction of a second, he looked up to observe your dazed expression, a smug grin gracing his wet lips as your high-pitched moans finally fractured the quiet room. “Come on, darling,” Childe sighed, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin before his tongue resumed its merciless rhythm against your sweet spot. “You were so resilient all morning. Let’s see how long that stubborn composure lasts now.”
The intense stimulation of his mouth coupled with the deliberate curling of his fingers completely broke your remaining restraint. A violent, twitching climax seized your body, forcing your spine to arch off the sheets. Yet, before you could recover or catch your breath, without removing his lips, Childe drove his fingers deeper, stretching your post-orgasmic walls and accelerating his movements without a single hint of leniency.
A loud wail tore from your throat as his tongue lashed your hypersensitive flesh while his knuckles bottomed out inside you. “Ajax, wait𑁋 Ah! It’s t-too much𑁋!” you sobbed, your thighs trembling violently against his shoulders and your fingers gripped on to the sheets of the bed, your entire being shuddered around his hand.
He let out a sharp breathless laugh against your inner thigh. Tilting his head just enough to meet your lewd gaze, his blue eyes sparked with a thrilling triumphant heat. “There’s that pretty voice,” Childe teased, his tone dropping into a low raspy growl. “Look at you, so desperate. You kept avoiding me all day, but the second you’re touched, you’re crying my name just like that?”
He refused to grant you a reprieve, instead his grip shifted to the back of your knees, tilting your pelvis upward to expose your aching core even further. “Ahh! Oh my god, Ajax!” His tongue swept deeply into your opening before driving upward to punish your clit, while his fingers maintained a frantic, unhinged sprint inside your pulsing warmth.
“Say it again,” he growled against your skin, watching your body writhe beneath his touch, dragging desperate cries from your lips with every stroke. “Keep calling me that, sweetheart. Let me hear how noisy you get when you’re being ruined like this.”
"原神 ✶ SYNOPSIS," ◦ ₊ㅤ ﹙ the nod krai men find out their girlfriend is a virgin, obviously not for long. ૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა artist credits: here reblog / like 2 support ⃘໋ׅ♡ 𝑤.𝑐: 3.7k ⁀ ˳ ⟡ masterlist <3
ꗃ .. FEATURING ꒰ flins, varka, dottore, lohen ꒱
♡⏝ ⸝⸝ 𝓦ARNINGS ˖ ❝ nsfw fem!reader smut squirting p i v sex spitting gentle sex you do the hair pulling fae's have biiiig dicks cunnilingus they go raw oral sex (f receive) fingering nip play tummy bulges overstimulation teasing drooling gentle giant varka getting pinned down varka is gigantic medicinal play / consensual drugging dottore treats sex like some experiment pussy slapping lohen is mean orgasm denial ❞
── #⃝ MINA'S NOTES ( 💬 ) plz send thirsts fill up my inbox like how flins fills my puthy up, also header inspired by cumironi mwah divider credits
ɞ⠀.⠀FLINS ﹗ ໒꒱۪
Flins was a gentleman, of course he was. He needed to be one anyways, he didn't need you squirming and sobbing and pushing him away if he went too rough with his size. You were a human after all.
"E-eeh.. s-slowly.." you whimpered, naked and nervously sweating underneath him, hands braced on his chest while he was gently spreading your legs open.
"I'll be as gentle as I can be, darling," he whispered softly, leaning over and pecking your cheek, before moving his lips over to your forehead, and finally your lips. His lips were soft, but cold against your warm ones. Your eyes had fluttered to a close, while he was moving his thumbs to rub at your sticky folds and soften you up.
"Niiiice, right?" He hummed, while you were beginning to squirm from the new sensation, his fingers curling up before pushing inside and stretching you out for his cock.
You whimpered and nodded shakily, much to his delight.
His smile got wider, like a Cheshire Cat, before he kissed you again and thrusted his fingers further, going just slightly more rougher to hear you moan and whine against his lips. Your nails beginning to dig and scratch at his shoulders, legs twitching and falling apart.
He pulled back suddenly, leaving you gasping and dazed, taking his fingers out and holding his hand out teasingly. Your essence dripping from his long, elegant fingers.
"Look here, you're already doing so well. So ready for me," he purred before leaning over again and nuzzling into the crook of your neck, kissing to distract you.
"Shhh, just breathe," he whispered.
You gasped and let out a strangled whimper when feeling the thick head of his cock rub against your pussy and begin to push inside. Your hands quickly reach out against his slender arms and scratched your way to his back, breath quickening and hitching.
"N-nghh.. f-flinssss.." you whined for him, while he slowly eased inside, before sighing against your neck and relaxing. "Shhh, I've got you, just relax, I swear it'll all feel better," he peppered your face with slow, soft kisses.
"C-can I pull..?" You mumbled softly, half lidded eyes looking up into his darkened ones. One of your hands were moving up, gently tangling into the long, luscious hair of his.
He didn't hesitate, nodding and smiling down at you sweetly.
Darkened, lustful eyes of his were glued to your tummy, watching the bulge from his thick cock grown and shrink as he thrusted in and out. He loved the feeling of being inside you, and got harder at the look of you squirming beneath him, and twitched inside you at your sweet little whimpers and moans.
As your hand pulled at his hair, his teeth bit into his bottom lip, the bed beginning to creak, the sound of skin slapping on skin filling the room.
His hips pulled back, before slowly easing inside again, and continuing those slow, sensual movements. Thrusting back and forth, just gently enough so that it wouldn't hurt. his eyes flickered up from your neck, watching your expression begin to relax and get comfortable with his slow, steady thrusts.
He pulled back, before sharply thrusting in one last time, making you squeak and whine, pouting up at him confused.
Your pout was met with a chaste kiss, "I'm sorry.. I couldn't resist. I'll go slow from now on, okay?" He pulled his hips back slowly, his thumb finding the little bud of your clit and rubbing it slowly.
"Just cum for me, alright, darling?"
ɞ⠀.⠀VARKA ﹗ ໒꒱۪
Varka was messy, and had no shame about it.
Slobbering and eating you out all messily, face buried in between your thighs, slurping loudly. Very much enjoying his meal. Groaning and moaning, while you were squirming, whining and covering your mouth shyly. You had expected him to be this big macho man and be all rough, to just make you take it.
Yet there he was, happiest when tasting and giving you pleasure, happiest when watching you cum on his face. His tongue eagerly licking up when you squirted out.
"So good, so good," he muttered and licked your pussy a few more times before pulling away with a sigh and wiping his dripping mouth. Your essence still dribbling down his chin and soaked into the bedsheets below, his tired eyes gazing into yours lovingly. "You ready?"
Your shaky nod didn't convince him, as you were still hiccuping and breathing heavily from your last orgasm. "I need a yes or a no, use your words," he said quietly, hand taking a grasp of your chin, gently making you face up at him properly.
"..yes.. yes please. I need you," you nodded and gasped, whining and already reaching out your hands for him.
He smiled happily before quickly covering your body with his much larger, muscular, scarred one. Completely overpowering you but making sure you had enough room to squirm and move, his lips meeting yours lovingly.
Those large hands of his pushed your thighs apart, before hooking your legs over his hips. Keeping you spread wide open beneath him, naked, sweaty, ready for him.
"You'll be okay, alright?" He nodded, noticing your nerves and shaky breathing, kissing your forehead. "It'll be just a small pop of pain, and then a world of pleasure.. just tap my shoulder and I'll slow down, or use the word and I'll pull out, okay?" He nodded, before furrowing his brows when you only nodded.
"Use your words."
"..I'll tap on your shoulder when it hurts and say the safe word when I can't take it anymore," you nodded to him, before sighing and smiling again when he kissed your forehead. "Good girl."
His head buried into the crook of your neck, kissing and finding your sensitive spots. Sucking hickeys and kissing down your jawline, while his hands were moving to spread your folds apart and stroke his thick cock. The base of his blond pubic hair tickles your inner thighs, before you felt it.
The large, demanding pressure began to build inside you when you felt the tip of it slide in. You had expected it to be big, but this big? You were already beginning to plan out your funeral, thighs twitching and squirming.
"Shh, shh, I'll be slow, just relax, I promise," he kissed down your jaw and trailed down the valley on your breasts, suckling a nipple into his mouth. Trying to get you to focus on the pleasure.
His cock was demanding your attention. Your brain couldn't focus on anything else, as much as you squeezed your eyes shut, whined, and squirmed underneath him. Your nails began to rake on his muscular back, adding to the scars with red lines of passion. It was so big, so thick, stretching you to the core
You were already so slick and drooling around him, drooling from both lips, before mumbling, "I-it's big.."
"I'm—… I'm not even halfway in," he muttered, pursing his lips and pausing for just a second before beginning to try and push in as far as he could, in a quick, painless manner. Not even halfway? You were already feeling his cock splitting you in two, what did he mean "not even halfway"?
It felt like something you had never known, finally clicked inside your head when he pushed in the last inch and grinned up at you, popping free of your nipple. "See! Nothing to it," he hummed happily, while you were drooling and cumming around him from just the size. Your tummy having such a lewd bulge from his cock.
"D-does it get any smaller…?" You drooled, whimpering and squeezing so tightly. You were definitely going to be spending majority of the time squirting and squirming on his dick.
“Smaller?” He scoffed and smiled, before kissing your forehead and then the tip of your nose. “Obviously not, silly. It can get bigger though,” he tilted his head to the side, all goofy.
Oh my archons, he was going to split you in two.
ɞ⠀.⠀DOTTORE ﹗ ໒꒱۪
"Oh come on, miss patient, you're not seriously backing out already?" Dottore pouted and mocked you, holding an empty syringe in his hands. The one he had promised would help you enjoy your first time with him infinitely more and not feel an ounce of paint whatsoever.
"Z-zandik—" you whimpered, eyes beginning to haze over, sitting naked on his experimental table. The light flicking above you both in the empty, cold room.
"Uh-uh, not Zandik, it's Doctor now, okay?" He smirked and pinched your cheek.
The air wasn't biting at your skin anymore, the fluids beginning to seep through your veins in what felt like a fiery fever. The blue haired menace's eyes were narrowing, watching your expression change, your eyes glaze over and pussy begin to glisten and seep uncontrollably.
"..doctor 'tore.." you mumbled, looking up at him, and pulling him closer by his shoulders. Eyeing his shirtless body up and down.
He smirked and cupped your cheek again, testing to see how much the medicine had stripped away your shyness and pain. "Tell me, how much do you want me? Where do you want me?" He purred, already moving his hands to the buckle of his pants, stripping eagerly.
You hesitated and thought, before laying back on the table and spewing your legs. "…need you a lotttt.." you mumbled, watching him crawl over you quickly and plant feverish kisses to your neck.
"Need you here.." you mumbled, moving one of your hands down shakily, and using your fingers to spreading your folds apart. Glistening and soaking wet, dripping onto the table below, ready and waiting for his experiment.
He hummed, smirking down at you and glanced down at your pussy, before kissing your forehead. "See? I told you the medicine would work so well with this untouched body of yours… didn't expect this much… fluid production, although," he hummed and was already mentally noting to edit the formula so that it wouldn't harm your body's natural production.
"You're alright to continue, miss patient?" He whispered down at you, before smirking at your confident nod.
"You're so filthy," he scoffed, smirking and spreading your legs wide apart, before slipping his fingers into your depths to test the waters. "They slide in so easily, tsk, you're so wet already," he huffed before brushing your hair out of your face. "Do you want me to move onto the next step in the method of this experiment?"
"P-pleaseeee.. d-doctor 'tore," you moaned, closing your eyes in pleasure as he fingered you, before gasping and pouting when he slid his fingers out again.
"If you're begging that much, you deserve something bigger, something harder," he darkly suggested, before smirking down at your dead face. The next thing you felt in your daze was the thick tip of his cock rubbing over your clit, collecting the slick, before it began to push inside your tight passage.
The feeling was numbing, more than painful. A small whimper escaping your lips, just clenching your fists, waiting for the initial stretch to wash over.
Only to open your eyes, half lidded, when you heard him snort. "Miss patient.. are you sleeping in the middle of my experiment?" He pouted and flicked your forehead.
It took you a second to realise he was teasing you, before you began to whine and argue back with him. "I wasn't sleeping! It just felt so numbing and c-cold—" you were arguing with him, before gasping and moaning, eyes rolling back for a split second.
That bastard had thrusted while you were talking, riling you up just to see you lose it in the middle of a sentence.
"You were saying?"
"Y-you're evil—" you were whining before quickly fading your arguments into needy moans and whimpers, arching your back and holding onto the shaky table as he began to rut into you. Fucking you at that steady pace, hips slapping against your ass. Balls heavy and waiting to spill inside you, to carry out another experiment inside you.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
It filled the room, while you began to drool. His breath finally hitching and adjusting, growing heavy from trying to not bust on the spot while you were squeezing him so tightly.
"Fuck.. you're so right. I should've made that fuckin' erection chewing gum too," he scoffed, eyes narrowing on your breasts.
ɞ⠀.⠀LOHEN ﹗ ໒꒱۪
"Pfft, look at you," lohen smirked, "not even name calling now?" He teased.
You were sitting on his lap. Naked, pouting and slowly rubbing your pussy back on his erect cock. His eyes half lidded, biting his bottom lip, watching you with lustful eyes. His hands resting on your hips, thumbs rubbing back and forth.
"You said you'd help me and be sweetttt!" You whined and grumbled down at him, before smacking his shoulder.
He groaned and pretended to be hurt, before pouting up at you playfully. "I am being sweeeet," he mimicked your whine, before smirking and pinching your hip. "I wanna see you ride me, it'll be fun, and I promise to help you get on," he nodded with a mock-serious expression.
You huffed, unconvinced before lifting your hips and scooting back just an inch, letting out a soft whimper when he grabbed the base of his cock, stroking it and guiding it to the entrance of your tight hole. "That's ittt, just slowly sit down," he mumbled, shifting on the bed slightly and guiding your hips down.
"H-haah.. s-slowlyyy.." you whined, easing your hips down, feeling his hard, thick dick begin to slide inside. The feeling of it twitching made you squirm and look more flustered, while his expression began to change from agonising pleasure to mischievous smirking.
His hands were slowly helping your hips down, as you relied on him to guide you, before he pulled them away quickly, making you squeak and plop down quickly. Gasping and whimpering, impaled on every thick, girthy inch of his cock.
A moan escaped your lips, tears pricking the corner of your eyes from the sudden, intense pleasure and pain mix. The room was filled whining and as you were smacking his shoulders repeatedly, "y-you're horrible! A terrible boyfriend! You pushed me down!"
"I did?" He pouted and played innocent, hands moving to wipe the small dotted tears at the corners of your eyes. "I think I'm a lovely boyfriend," he frowned, before genuinely asking, "you're okay though, right? Tell me if you want to stop, I'll stop, no teasing," he nodded to you.
You sniffled, before nodding and leaning over to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. "I w-wanna keep going.." a small mumble by his neck.
He smiled, turning his head to peck your hair, before thrusting up into you gently. "You're the one who's supposed to be riding me, doll," he huffed and played with your hair, tilting his head to the side to lick the shell of your ear.
The lick made you shiver, before trying to slowly wriggle your hips up and bring them down. "I-I'm tryingggg! Be patient," you huffed.
His teasing smirk began to fade as the bed was quietly creaking, only your soft little moans being the sounds of pleasure in the quiet bedroom. "E-ehh.. nnh.. mmh…" you whimpered softly, learning how to slowly pleasure yourself on his dick. His eyes half lidded, viewing you with a cold, cynical look, before smiling again and thrusting up quickly into your soft, wet pussy.
"L-lohennnn.. this is too much work," you huffed, giving up and laying limp on top of him.
He hummed, before kissing the top of your head and wrapping his arms around you tightly, quickly rolling you both over so that you were flustered, naked, and underneath him. "E-eh..?" You muttered confused, while his hands were already spreading your legs.
"Just take it, okay? You know the word to say if you want me to stop," he smiled at you. Nervousness breeding inside your gut, already gripping the sheets to prepare yourself.
Warnings: Inaccurate medical jargon (again), slight misunderstanding and arguments, implied smut, possibly ooc Dottore Segments and Pantalone (well at least he smokes that's in character), should I tag it as a crackfic too lol?
Part 1 here in case you missed it!! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
It had already been a few months since the baby arrived, and it had been smooth sailing for you.
Is what you'd say if you were lying.
Pushing out a whole-ass baby was not on your bucket list when you got together with Zandik. In fact, both of you were dedicated researchers in your own field.
Researching with Zandik, especially with so many versions of him, was certainly fun. Every segment has its own view, which you recognized as the original Zandik in that particular age.
They were also, just as sexually frustrated as the original him in that age.
This was bound to happen one day or another, though not unwelcome. You only wished someone had warned you about the amount of peace you'd lose by having a child.
"This book says the baby will start walking when it's 9-12 months, and start speaking around the same time," Segment 8 says, reading out from a child development book he'd taken an interest to recently.
Segment 8 had taken upon himself to 'monitor the condition of the newborn'. Although you were rather reserved towards the idea of letting an 8-year-old take care of a baby, you realized that maybe Segment 8 would benefit from being an older brother/a younger uncle towards the infant.
And seeing how interested he was in keeping you company while you were taking care of it, you were right. Segment 8 never did the tasks that the other adult segments did (feeding, changing, putting the baby to sleep); he simply lingered in the corner, waiting for his turn to be the one being pampered by you (he was your first baby after all).
"I see. Anything else, Little Doctor?" you ask, as you put the baby down in the bassinet for a nap.
Little Doctor, now internally overjoyed that you had decided to give your sparse attention to him, flipped the pages to tell you more facts on child development (Segment 45 got it for him, thinking that it would help Segment 8 understand that the baby needed more care than him).
"And it will be able to use tools around 13-18 months old. We can get crayons so it can draw what it sees."
"That's amazing! Would you please draw with the baby then?? It would love to see your aranara drawings too."
"Mhm. Sure." He nods, now taking a seat in the corner of the nursery.
You sigh as you run your fingers through your hair. Taking care of a baby was...challenging. The adult Segments always made sure to be present and 'take shifts' to help you out, but there's only so much they can do. The baby required your constant attention, which was something neither you nor Zandik could help.
"Maybe I should take a shower. Little doctor, could you keep an eye on the baby for a few minutes while I fetch an older segment? I'd like to wash up, so it's better that one of them is here to keep a watch over the baby."
The younger Segment nods as he carefully scooches his chair near the bassinet. You'd rather not leave him with the baby alone, not out of distrust but rather due to how young he was himself. Which makes you wonder.
Where in the world were the other Segments?
Meanwhile, on the other side of Il Dottore's laboratory.
"I object!" Segment 18 protests, slamming his hands down on the table.
"What makes you state that your sperm count is higher than mine? You're older than me! Everyone knows 18-30 is the best range for a man to be fertile. I can excuse Omega, but you, YOU!! I'm not taking any lip from you, 45."
Segment 45 sneered at the younger Segment's outrage, offended by his comment, "Okay, first of all, rude," he remarks, "Second of all, the tests speak for themself. I'm not the one who's wrong when you're the one who's blind. Perhaps you should've controlled your baklava intake before bringing up an objection."
"But he's fundamentally not wrong, though," continues Segment 25, "Omega and I have the highest sperm count as well as motility rate. If it comes down to any of us, it's probably him and me."
"That's not counting the day of conception itself?" 65, who had chosen to stay silent for most of the discussion, spoke up, "Both of you have proven that you have the highest factor in getting her pregnant. However, I was the one who engaged in intimacy during her fertile window. A woman's ability to receive sperm during that period is not to be underestimated. Especially a strong and healthy woman such as my wife."
"Well, we cannot deny that either," ponders Segment 45, "She was violently ill in her first trimester and towards the end of the final one. It may be you in a way."
Segment 25 raises a hand to object, the one who was most medically aligned compared to all the Segments present, "Actually, it would be too late instead. Sperm can stay alive in the uterus for up to 5 days. Though losing some of its potency, any man trying to conceive at that point is probably useless. The one who got to the womb first matters."
"Give up. You can never beat the amount of energy I have," Segment 18 smirks as he sits back down in his seat, too smug in his youth.
"Actually, we make sure to thoroughly 'wash out' before engaging in intimacy ourselves," Segment 45 said, ruffling in his overcoat slightly.
"What do you mean?" asks Segment 18, a tad nervous.
"I mean, I don't want another man's semen on my private parts. The thought makes me shudder," explained the older Segment.
"You-I-What-"
"18, don't tell me you've been.......going at it without giving it a thought..." Segment 25 made a face, disgusted at his own younger self.
Segment 18, enraged and perhaps slightly humiliated, went off, "I-DOES IT EVEN MATTER-"
"It's hygiene-"
"WE'RE THE SAME PERSON ANYWAY-" he argues.
"That does not mean I'm having my penis covered in your semen. You cause enough trouble for my wife as it is with your premature ejaculations."
"I LAST LONGER MIND YOU-"
Segment 25 rolls his eyes at Segment 18's display, "Sure. And you definitely do not use your own hand on the days you cannot access her."
Segment 18, now thoroughly humbled and chastised, dropped in his seat and slouched further in it.
Segment 35, or Omega, saw that the younger Segment was out of any justification, stood up to the board to present his research and arguements.
"Well, coming back to the point," he says, clearing his throat, "Sure, you may have engaged in intimacy with her during her most fertile window, but that does not mean it would take you a single try to conceive. The possibility does exist. However, they're quite low given your age."
"Who said I was giving it just a single try?" rebuts Segment 65.
The entire conference room fell silent enough to hear a pin drop. Out of all the Segments present, Segment 65 scientifically had the least chances of conception.
That is, unless he was going at it with you like rabbits in heat.
Pantalone, who'd chosen to remain silent during the whole ordeal, mostly out of neutrality, spoke up, visibly impressed by the oldest Segment, "My, I didn't know you had such vigor within you in your old age, Zandik? Pray tell, how do you even keep up with the missus?"
"You flatter me, old friend. I'd be lying if I said I did it all. Both my wife and I switch sides on who serves. Turns out she quite enjoys my company in more than one way," Segment 65 explains, humbly nodding.
Although he was the most mild-mannered Segment of Zandik, mostly due to his age, it was clear he was not to be taken lightly, and wouldn't back down without a fight.
"No wonder she's all tired after she's done with you. This bastard's the one who's making her do all the work!!" accused the youngest adult Segment in the room.
"I will certainly not take any criticism from you, young one," Segment 65 denounces, laying his criticism on thick this time, "Perhaps the reason you're the one doing all the 'work' is simply because you do not understand the importance of inviting the woman to have her own way and have her own rhythm instead of swinging your hips with no finesse."
Segment 18, now completely and utterly defeated, simply stared at the oldest Segment as he was left with his jaw on the floor and nothing but a humiliating silence emitting from it.
Segment 25 snickered at the sight of the younger Segment being put in his place, "Well, the possibility of the baby being yours just rose up by 1.24 per cent. Congratulations."
"However, I, 25, and 45 are still in the lead. Although we did not ejaculate inside of her as much as you two have-"
"That's because you like to see her swallow it instead, don't you," Segment 45 interrupts Omega, who was stating his offence.
"-shush I'm not done. The three of us are in the lead for the most likely paternity. Which means the real father of the baby is-"
Before Omega could declare the real father of the baby (according to him), a polite knock interrupts the conference room, all the attendees now turned towards the source.
"Zandik?" you call out as you pry the door to the conference room open and walk in, "Hey, ummm, I was wondering if one of you could watch the baby for me while I wash up. They're with Little Doctor right now, don't worry. My hair's getting greasy and-"
You halt as you notice not only every single Segment, but also The Regrator in flesh, attending what looked like a project proposal.
"Oh, greetings, Lord Harbinger," you address him, "I must apologize for my unkempt appearance. I wasn't aware we were receiving such an important guest today."
Pantalone stands up and offers a polite bow, "There's no need to apologize, Missus. It is I who is intruding today."
"I see, I'll take my leave then-"
Before you could excuse yourself from the premises, you accidentally took one look at the board behind Omega, and the title projected onto it. Reading them, you felt as if you'd been left out in the bitter, icy cold of the Snezhnayan Tundra.
'Probability of Paternity'
"What-" you utter, betrayal lacing your tone.
Segment 45 immediately gets up, heeding to the distress in your voice, "Love I-"
"What the fuck is going on here?" you ask, your voice quivering.
"Let us explain-" he continues.
You step away from Segment 45, choosing to corner yourself against the door instead, "You know if you wanted to go this far, you might as well slap me on the face-"
"It's not what you think-" Segment 25, who's gotten ahold of the situation, tries to de-escalate.
You simply shook your head, "Oh, it is exactly what I think. Better yet, why don't you just kill me and use me for one of your experiments-"
"Honey, that's not what we're-" Segment 65 explains before getting cut off.
"Why else would you think I cheated on you and had someone else's child?" you sob out.
For the second time during this whole seminar, the entire room is engulfed in total silence. All the attendees now paying you their utmost attention.
Well, except one.
Pantalone, who had attended the 'Paternity debate' out of sheer boredom, was enthralled by the way the events had unfolded so far. He knew the animosity Zandik's segments held towards each other, but was deeply captivated by the way they all seemed to share one thing, or person.
You.
And you interrupting the oh-so-comical seminar of determining the baby's 'real' father was truly the cherry on the cake. Or rather, the straw that broke the camel's back.
The camel being Pantalone's restraint from laughing at this entire charade.
While the Segments all stood looking at you, you instead chose to direct your irritated gaze towards the Ninth Harbinger, who was now cackling like a madman in his own seat, clutching his sides and wheezing not unlike a broken old kettle.
"Hahaha haha! Oh dear, I haven't had a laugh this good in decades. The last time I laughed this good was the time I saw Pulcinella with his tongue stuck to an icicle."
"Pantalone, not helping," Omega seethes through his teeth.
"Pardon me for my rude behavior right now, Missus," Pantalone, now calmed from his earlier outburst, takes off his glasses to wipe the lenses with a silk handkerchief.
"You simply misunderstand," he continues, "They're not discussing whether or not you've been faithful."
"Then what is it, Regrador? Because that's exactly what it looks like to me," you assert, clearly upset at his earlier outburst.
He puts on his polished glasses as he turns towards you with the most polite, diplomatic smile he could conjure at that moment, "Ah, I believe I may not be the person to explain that to you. Zandik, if you-or shall I say-all of you would do the honors?"
You turn towards all the Segments now instead. They all looked like they were caught doing something they had not, similarly to how Segment 18 looked whenever you caught him throwing away the youngest Segment's notes, so you were positive it was what you had assumed.
'Still,' you thought, 'I suppose I could give them a chance to explain themselves. Worst case, I'd simply go to the Tsaritsa to seek protection along with Little Doctor and the baby.'
"Go on."
"We were….determining the paternity of the child through means besides the DNA," Segment 18 speaks out first.
"Uh huh. And what compelled you to do so?" you question, wrapping your arms around yourself.
Segment 25 takes over, continuing, "……we were making sure whose baby it was."
"And? Whose baby is it, Zandik?" you push, regretting your decision to give them a chance to explain themselves.
"One of us five's," Segment 45 states plainly.
"That's it, I'm leaving-"
"But we don't know which of us five yet," Omega calls out behind you, stopping you in your tracks.
You pause, hand already on the door handle, and slowly turn around, a befuddled expression painting your face.
"Huh?"
"Here, take a look," Segment 18 steps forward, pushing a tall pile of papers towards you.
You step closer to the conference table as you take a look at the paper on top with the title 'Probability of Paternity ~ Segment 18'. As you flip through the papers, you see papers written by the other four segments as well. The contents being graphs based on Sperm motility, time of conception, ovulation time frame, and so on.
Segment 18 takes it upon himself to start briefing you on the contents, "25, 35, and 45 have the highest possibility. I am the one next, then 65, due to 'techniques' and age. But 65 just defended his case right now and sits above me apparently-"
"Correction: his fertility is still lower than yours. It is a matter of correct timing-" Segment 45 interrupts.
Omega breaks him off on that, "Which is where I and 45 come in. We were both with you as well as Segment 65, but looking at the statistics, it should be me-"
"Get off your high horse for once," Segment 18 butts in, "What makes you say your sperm quality's better than mine?"
To which Segment 25 makes a face as he chimes in, "We must take hygiene into consideration as well. Unlike Segment 18 here-"
"So…" you ponder, making them all put away their differences for a moment, "…you all were holding an investigation here to…determine which one of you is the real father?"
"Yes," they all reply in unison.
"But……the DNA matches all of you. All of you are the real father. So, shouldn't there be no argument for that?" You try to reason with them.
"Well, that's quite silly, isn't it?" Segment 45 smiles at your statement, finding it quite illogical.
"If DNA was the only thing that tied us to the child as a paternal figure, you could call Segment 8, who's clearly a child and a minor incapable of handling a baby, the child's father purely based on DNA," he explains.
"Well, I don't think like that obviously, he's a brother, or a young uncle to the baby at best-" you went off.
"Let me put this bluntly for you. We're determining which one of us impregnated you first." Omega interrupts your process of thought, laying the facts bare for you.
For the third time today, the room was encompassed in dead silence before uncontrollable laughter broks it.
Although this time, it wasn't Pantalone.
You laughed so violently that you almost doubled over and fell on the floor. A Segment (you have no recollection who) caught you before you could kiss the floor and steered you to a chair. Though you were saved from sniffing the dust, you weren't spared from doubling down so hard that you slammed your head on the table (almost there was a stack of papers to cushion you from the pain of cold metal digging into your forehead).
Pantalone was soon to follow you, laughing to the point that his long-term smoker lungs wheezed in between.
The Segments simply stood there, looking between you and Pantalone, wondering what exactly it was that you two had found so amusing that you'd lose your wits.
Well, at least you weren't mad at them anymore.
After what had felt like an eternity, Pantalone is the one to calm down first. Well, as calm as he could be with the lingering effects of the best laugh he's had in his life so far.
"Oh dear, looks like I need a smoke or two after this. This has been the most worthwhile venture ever," he speaks out, wheezing slightly as he does so.
"Absolutely no smoking in my premises!" Omega denies, "Or that of my wife's!"
"Pass me one, too! Never in my living days had I ever thought the fathers of my child would actually argue amongst themselves!" You say to Pantalone, fighting down your own giggles as you ignore the Segment.
"No smoking for you either! Ever! I already deal with one chain-smoker who thinks my medical services are effortless. I don't need another one on my hands." Segment 25 shuts you down.
Before you could utter another cheeky remark that was sure to get on all the Zandik's nerves, the communication terminal buzzed, beeping twice before you heard the perturbed voice of the youngest Zandik in your ear.
"Hey, the baby is whining. I don't know what to do. Are you coming back soon, or should I call the standby nanny instead?" He asks, poor thing, being the only one left with an infant.
"Oh, Little Doctor! I'm so sorry for leaving you alone for so long. I was just caught up here with something. I'll be right back with Zandik, don't worry," you comfort, assuring that you'll be back soon.
"Okay. I'll keep an eye on them," he sighs and cuts the line.
You get up from the chair, smoothing out your dress, blood rushing to your ears as you remember what went down in front of two (or more like Segments of one and another) Harbingers. You looked up at all the Segments with a teasing smile.
"Well, so who's coming along with me? Or are we still going to fight amongst ourselves over who's the real father instead of focusing on the bigger picture?" You playfully chide them all.
"I shall accompany you this time," Segment 65 steps forward, awkwardly rubbing the beak of his mask, "It has been a while since I've held my child."
You nod to him as you turn to Pantalone, "Okay, please excuse my leave, Lord Harbinger. I apologize for my outburst earlier as well-"
He waves his hand at you, dismissing your worries, "Please, Pantalone will do, Missus. I wish you and your family good health. Next time we meet, let us discuss this little 'meeting' over a cup of tea as friends, shall we?"
"Of course, much obliged."
Segment 65 steps between you, wrapping his hand around your lower back to escort you out, "Let us take our leave now, Dear."
You smile up at him, then at the others as you wave at them all, promising to see them soon.
"Silly men," you murmur under your breath, "Just like him years ago. You say you're all different, but deep down, you're all made of the same soul."
"What was that, Dearest?" Segment 65 asks, closing the door behind him.
"Nothing," you smile cheerfully, wrapping your arms around his, "Let's hurry, our little hatchling is waiting for us."
Behind the door, the remaining Segments watch it as it closes on itself, leaving them and their company suspended in an unpleasant silence.
"So...was this all useless?" Segment 18 breaks the quiet.
Segment 25 simply fell back in his seat, sighing as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Well, clearly we need to wait a little longer, at least until the child is able to be partially independent so as to not require constant surveillance," he says in his tiresome voice.
"That'd take months, if not years," states Segment 45.
Segment 25 raises a brow, "You have a better idea?"
"I see it as more time, we could contribute more factors to the authenticity of our claims, and present them once we agree on a time," says Omega.
"Didn't you just hear what Wifey had to say dipshit," Segment 18 swears, "she didn't want us fighting over paternity, did she?"
"Ah, ah, there's where you're wrong," he smirks, "her exact words were, and I quote, 'are we still going to fight amongst ourselves over who's the real father instead of focusing on the bigger picture.' Clearly, the bigger picture here is to focus on making the child partially independent."
"You read that so wrong," Segment 45 disagrees, making a face.
Omega simply shrugs, turning around to wipe down the blackboard, "See it as you will, but I never leave my research incomplete."
He turns around and smirks at the others.
"Besides, I'd love to see the look on all of 'my' faces when I declare the child as mine scientifically."
Segment 25 scoffs, "Good luck with that."
"Not before I will, you old tosser," says Segment 18.
"You mean you'd love the look on 'your' face when I declare the child as mine?" snickers Segment 45.
Pantalone wonders if Sandrone's tea parties are even this entertaining.
'Actually,' he smirks to himself, sneakily taking out a cigar, 'they never will be, and never shall be. They lack a 'Zandik' after all.'
Too bad his cigar was slapped out of his hands by Segment 18 before he could light it up.
a/n: HAAAAAAAAAHHHH I FINALLY FINISHED IT ♡〜٩( ˃▿˂ )۶〜♡!!!! Sorry about taking so long with the update teehee I was like deathly sick (I had pneumonia) also I burned my thumb on hot caramel so I couldn't type without screaming in pain for a while (ꈍωꈍ)
Anyway, I was wondering what gender to give the baby, but I am not good with like parental/child fics lmao so I just left the baby as "da baby" so just insert whatever you want lmao (๑>•̀๑)
@luminarylorecat Do not repost, translate, adapt, feed into AI, or claim this work. Reblogs and links are appreciated; copying and reuploading are not.
(You thought you were stealing gold. Turns out you were stealing a spot on the dragon's dick.)
You should’ve listened.
You should’ve stayed far, far away from the mountain with the bones outside.
But noooo. You needed a shiny lil trinket, right? Just one ruby. Just a quick grab.
And now?
Now you’re pinned under a 10-ton fuckmonster with horns, wings, claws, and a cock the length of your arm.
“Aw, poor little thief,” he purrs, smirking down at you like the absolute demon he is, while your naked, trembling body squirms under him.
“You wanted to steal my gold?”
He spits on your pussy. It sizzles.
“Now you should be punished.”
He spreads your legs so wide your hips pop.
You yelp. He moans.
“Fuck yes—scream for me.”
His claws are digging into your thighs. His body’s so hot it feels like it’s melting you open.
And then—
Then you see it.
His cock.
Veiny. Curved. Leaking. So fucking thick the head alone has your cunt flinching.
He slaps it against your pussy once—hard.
You sob.
He grins.
“Scared? You should be. I’m gonna fuck your guts so deep you’ll taste me in your dreams.”
He doesn’t prep. He doesn’t tease.
He just grabs your ankles, bends you in half, and starts pushing in.
Your pussy makes this obscene wet squelch as it tries to stretch for him.
You’re shaking. Crying. Gushing.
And he’s moaning like a beast, tongue out, drool dripping on your tits.
“Godddd, listen to that sloppy little hole…”
He fuckin’ growls.
“So fuckin’ wet. So tight. So small. You were made to be my cocksleeve.”
You scream. Again. Again.
Your belly’s bulging with his cock. You’re clawing at the gold like it’ll save you. You’re not even speaking real words anymore—just whimpers and moans and messy, high-pitched “fuck—fuck—fuck—!”
He's laughing now.
“Cute little moans. Keep makin’ ‘em, bitch. I’m gonna break this pussy in half.”
You cum. Hard.
Your pussy clenches, gushes, and it makes this disgustingly wet pop sound as he bottoms out.
You scream again.
“Look at this messy cunt—fuckin’ creaming all over my cock like a little whore.”
He slaps your clit. You twitch.
“Yeah. You like it.”
Then he uses his tail.
You don’t even see it coming.
It snakes under you, slithers between your asscheeks, and the tip rubs your other hole.
You gasp. “Wait—! Wait please—”
“Oh shut up.”
He shoves it in.
Now you’re double stuffed.
Tears streaming. Mouth open in a silent scream.
Your belly looks pregnant. Your insides feel like soup.
You’re shaking like a broken toy and he’s still pounding you with obscene force, panting like a dog in heat.
“Fuckfuckfuck—I can feel your cervix—holy shit—take it, take it, TAKE IT—”
You’re clawing his chest. Dazed. Dick-drunk.
He licks the blood off your cheek and whispers:
“You’re mine now, little thief. My cunt. My whore. My treasure.”
And then—he knots.
Of course he knots.
You feel the thick, hot swell of his cock lock inside your cunt and flood you with hot, white dragon cum.
It’s endless.
You scream. You squirt. You pass out for like half a second.
He groans into your throat while you twitch and tremble, filled to the brim.
Your belly swells. Leaks. He smears it around your thighs and mutters filth into your ear.
“So good for me. So full. Gonna lay my eggs in this tight fucking cunt.”
After?
You’re limp. Gurgling. Brain melted.
He’s purring. Still inside you. Still hard.
He cups your face in one huge clawed hand and kisses your forehead, bloody and sweaty.
“My sweet lil thief.”
He purrs.
“Touch my gold again, and I’ll fuck your mouth next. Got it?”
Trying different flavors of lip-smackers with segments!
Warnings: Making out? Kinda smut? (not with 8 years old one of course, its a cheek kiss for him.) Humiliation kink(idk)?
It's kinda long eheh. Also, I couldn't make the text smaller in some places, so I apologize if it looks strange.
Assistant reader!f (in her +20ies) x Dottore Segments
(Another assistant reader if you wanna read!)
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ summary: You buy a pack of lip-smackers and you try each flavor with one segment at a time, which is best done by kissing them.
8 years-old (a kiss on the cheek!) cherry-cola You found him in your room again, it was his usual spot when he escapes from olders’ bullyings. Curled up near the edge of your bed with his notebook resting against his knees, scribbling down something with that tiny serious expression he always wore whenever he thought too hard. He barely even noticed you entering.
“I bought these a few days ago,” you said while dropping beside him onto the mattress. You held up the little package of lip smackers in front of him. “I still can’t decide which flavor to try.”
The eight-year-old glanced up briefly. "And…? I don't see the problem that relates me here?"
“Hm. Fair point, Doctor.” You liked calling 8 years old one Doctor a lot, and deep down he liked it too, made him feel important among them.
You looked through them dramatically before pulling out the cherry one.
“This one then.” He watched carefully as you applied it, quiet as always. Probably trying to understand your reasoning.
Then before he could ask anything, you leaned over and pressed an exaggerated kiss against his cheek.
“Mwah.” A loud one.
He blinked. Slowly, his fingers touched the spot you kissed. Then he sniffed faintly, brows furrowing in curiosity.
“…Cherry?” You smiled immediately.
“Yeah, aren’t you a smart cookie?”. “I’ve never seen a cherry flavored one before.” He said while ignoring your teasing.
“Well,” you answered while nudging his shoulder lightly, “that just means there are still lots of things left for you to research, Doctor.”
Then he quietly pulled his notebook a little farther away from you, to hide his face before you could try kissing the other cheek too.
18 years-old, lemon-fanta! Finding the eighteen-year-old was always funny because he acted like he wanted to disappear while leaving the most obvious trails possible.
With a pile of stolen books from other segments, and dragged chair to the corner of the library he builds a castle from books and then tries to hide himself in them.
And somehow, every single time, you still found him.
He even once told you:“You can find me whenever you want. I only find you when you want.”
You approached quietly, fingers brushing over his shoulder. He startled immediately.
Actually jumped a little.
His head snapped toward you before he tried recovering his dignity by looking back down at the book in front of him.
“…What are you doing here, handsome?” you asked with a teasing tone.
“Ugh…Nothing.”
He answered with that sappy-sulky voice.
“Why did you even come here and disturb me?” he muttered while turning a page he clearly wasn’t reading anymore. “Don’t you have things to do? Be a useful assistant and maybe bring me coffee.”
The moment he saw you, he always tried acting annoyed first.
But you knew him too well.
“Oh, of course I have things to do,” you said. “And I should probably bring you your coffee too.”
He hummed with agreement.
“But before that,” you continued while stepping closer, “I need to do something else first.”
That finally got his attention(which was actually long lost the moment he heard your voice).
He lifted his head from the book slowly, chair sliding back just a little as he looked up at you with obvious curiosity hidden behind forced indifference.
“…What thing?”
You leaned down before he could think too hard about it and kissed him.
Bright lemon flavor spreading instantly against his lips from the gloss you had applied earlier.
He reacted immediately. He never misses his chance. One hand grabbing at your hip so fast it almost made you laugh, like he’d been waiting for an excuse all day. Eager.
And then you pulled away. A quiet, frustrated whine escaped him before he could stop it. This made you burst into laughter instantly.
His face went red so quickly he covered half of it with his left hand, glaring at you from behind his fingers.
“Just because I’m not as scary as the others,” he muttered bitterly, “doesn’t mean you can tease me whenever you want.”
You stood up again, pretending not to notice the way he tried to cover the immediate bulge occured when you sat down.
“I don’t know,” you said lightly while fixing your sleeve. “I think I’d love to see you act all crazy and scary too.”
His eyes widened slightly.
And before he could recover enough to say something smug back, you were already leaving the library laughing while he sat there completely flustered in the middle of his little book castle.
25 years-old, sprite! The twenty-five-year-old’s room was always quiet in the most unwelcoming way possible. He had papers scattered across the desk, lots of half-written reports, open books etc.
The faint scratching sound of his pen moving across paper that you could hear behind the door. You knocked twice against the door.
“You can’t come in,” he answered immediately.
You leaned against the doorway dramatically. “I mean, there was something urgent I had to ask you.”
“Well then,” he replied flatly from inside, “go find someone less bothered by your existence. I’m busy.”
You rolled your eyes.
“The earlier you help me, the earlier you’ll get back to your report.”
A long groan came from behind the door. But since he didn’t actually tell you to leave again, you pushed the door open anyway.
He didn’t even look up at first. “You’re too stupid to figure out your own unimportant problems?” he asked while continuing to write. “Why do they even keep you as their assistant? You clearly lack the ability to assist anyone.”
You barely reacted anymore honestly.
Every segment had their own way of being awful. His just happened to involve constant humiliation wrapped in distinct wording with attractive voice. So instead of getting offended, you simply smiled and walked over beside his chair.
“I don’t lack the ability to assist,” you corrected lightly. “You’re simply too good to require assistance.” That made him glance up.
You leaned your elbow against his shoulder, close enough for him to smell the sweet artificial citrus from your gloss.
He huffed quietly under his breath.
Then suddenly his hand grabbed your waist and pulled you directly into his lap.
You yelped softly from the force of it, which made him enjoy more.
“I’ve never seen anyone as interested in being bullied as you are,” he muttered near your ear while squeezing your thigh harshly. “It’s almost concerning.”
“Well,” you said sweetly, “if it’s coming from you, who am I to reject it? I am your assistant after all.”
His fingers tightened briefly before he leaned back in his chair with obvious annoyance.
“Whatever you needed, ask quickly,” he sighed. “I’m too busy to deal with your lame ass.”
Instead of answering, you kissed him.
He reacted instantly to that. One hand gripping your hip harder while he bit down lightly against your lower lip in that mean way of his that was always more provoking than affectionate.
You were kissing him with that sprite flavor he would definitely despise.
You almost laughed into the kiss. Especially when he started to make you lean back towards the desk like he intended to keep you there much longer.
Before he could though, you pushed against his chest lightly and stood back up.
He looked irritated immediately. “Well, I was actually going to ask about my new lipstick,” you said while fixing your clothes. “But I guess you didn’t like it?”
He stared at you for a moment.
Then grinned slowly.
“I hate it.”
35 years-old(Omega), vanilla-cola! Omega’s room was usually quieter than the others and with Nod-Krai trip approaching, the atmosphere had only gotten worse. Documents scattered across the desk, unfinished calculations glowing faintly across screens, reports waiting for signatures. You’d spent the last hour helping him organize materials for the trip without daring to distract him even once.
The moment you entered earlier, you had planned to greet him properly.
With a small kiss, you know.
But the second he started giving instructions, you abandoned the thought immediately. It felt too risky making him wait over something so trivial.
So instead, you focused entirely on being useful. Exactly what his assistant should be, as you could feel that he likes you most when you show usability. So, you barely even remembered the vanilla-cola you had applied beforehand.
Until... “Why,” Omega said suddenly from somewhere behind you, “am I smelling vanilla?”
Your fingers immediately flew to your lips.
Right. The new lipstick.
You turned toward him with a small smile. “Oh, I tried a new flavor earlier. Didn’t realize the scent was that strong.”
His eyes settled on your mouth instantly. “Get up.”
You obeyed before thinking twice. The chair scraped softly against the floor as you stood, and Omega stepped closer without another word. Then his fingers slid beneath your chin, tilting your face upward carefully. Neither gentle nor rough. His gaze stayed fixed on your lips with a level of attention that made your breath catch embarrassingly fast.
“I don’t think you wear these because your lips are chapped,” he said calmly. “They always look shiny regardless.”
Your eyebrows lifted slightly. You didn’t realize he paid attention to things like that or maybe you simply weren’t supposed to know?
“Well,” you answered softly after a moment, “of course I applied this for you.”
That earned the faintest smile from him. Then he leaned closer.
Close enough that you could already feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. If either of you moved even slightly, the distance would disappear completely.
You waited but Omega stopped there.
“It smells lovely indeed,” he murmured quietly.
Then he released your chin, turned away from you entirely, and continued gathering the papers for Nod-Krai like nothing had happened.
Leaving you standing there like that, made you think that everyone was somehow getting a taste of his cruelty.
45 years-old, strawberry-fanta! The meetings of the Harbingers were sometimes unbearably long. So, even after an hour passed, you were still waiting. Despite the fact that he specifically told you:
“If it takes too long, leave.”
You sat quietly on one of the hallway benches outside the meeting room, legs crossed while absentmindedly applying the strawberry-flavored gloss you had bought earlier. Mostly just to distract yourself from boredom.
Then finally you heard the doors opened. You immediately stood up as the Harbingers began leaving one by one. Voices echoed through the hallway, coats brushing past marble floors, conversations overlapping carelessly.
You spotted him instantly. But before you could approach, you overheard Pantalone’s amused voice.
“After you’re gone, perhaps I should steal that assistant of yours,” he said lazily. “Even someone like you seems interested in her. There must be something exceptional there.”
Dottore laughed softly. “Well, ask her after I leave. If she wishes to join you, she may.”
Then he glanced toward you briefly. “Though, for your sake, you should know she only shows interest in me. I doubt she’d perform quite as enthusiastically under your supervision.”
Your lips curled into a smile before you lowered your head slightly to hide it.
Eventually the hallway emptied, leaving only the two of you. You approached him quietly and took the bag from his hand before he could object, naturally falling into step beside him as you both walked down the long corridor.
“I told you not to wait if it took too long,” he said after a moment. “Why are you still here?”
“Because I’m your assistant,” you answered simply. “If you had to stay in that room for twenty-four hours, then I’d stay here for twenty-four hours too. I’ll wait whenever you need me.”
That made him smile faintly.
The two of you continued walking side by side. Then suddenly he spoke again. “Am I hallucinating,” he mused lightly, “or do you smell like strawberries?”
You smiled immediately. “Nothing escapes from you, hm, Doctor?”
Compared to the other older segments, he was surprisingly easy to talk to. Easier to tease too. But he glanced at you from the corner of his eye.
“Well, if I fail to notice the changes in my lovely assistant,” he said calmly, “or the little shenanigans she keeps pulling, then I’d simply be ignorant of my surroundings.”
Slowly, you linked your arm with his as he allowed it naturally.
“So?” you asked while looking up at him. “Is that a bad thing or a good thing?”
He turned his head toward you fully then. “You shouldn’t ask such obvious questions.”
And before you could reply,he suddenly pushed you gently toward the wall beside the hallway. You let out a surprised sound as your back touched the cold surface behind you. His hand guided your arms down instinctively so he could cage you there easily.
For a second, you just stared at him. And then he kissed you.
The strawberry flavor mixed between you instantly while his hand rested against your waist with terrifying ease. He made you feel overwhelmed in a completely different manner. Like standing too close to someone entirely aware of their own charm.
When he finally pulled away, you almost stumbled forward from how weak your knees suddenly felt which caused a laughter from him.
“You know,” he mused while watching your expression carefully, “I think I understand why the eighteen-year-old is so obsessed with you.”
You immediately smiled back. “Oh?” you teased softly. “Is it only him?”
He extended his arm toward you again patiently, waiting for you to take it.
“No,” he answered after a moment. “I don’t think it’s only him.”
65 years-old, fanta! You found him exactly where he always was. Sitting near the large window of his office with a book resting in one hand while the other tapped slowly against the armrest of his chair. The room was quiet except for the ticking of some old mechanism nearby.
He acknowledged your presence immediately but didn’t look up.
“You’re lingering,” he said dryly. “Which usually means you’re about to become troublesome.”
You smiled to yourself and walked closer. “Maybe only a little.”
A quiet hum escaped him at that. You had applied the Fanta flavored one earlier, and honestly, compared to the others, you weren’t even sure if he would tolerate it. He always acted above things like that.
Still, you leaned carefully against the side of his chair.
“So, what are you reading about? Maybe something interesting?”
He answers back without waiting, “Not everything we read needs to be interesting, sometimes you just read to… read.”
Which caused a small nod from you. To change the topic, to make him talk to you more, “I bought something new today,” you said casually. “Though you’ll probably hate it.”
That finally made him glance at you over the edge of his book.
“Probably.” You laughed softly.
“See? You're too uncurious for a research doctor.”
“Experience allows me to predict disappointment accurately.”
“But no matter what, don’t you think you should try first, there’s always possibility for a different outcome.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. He already understood what the new item was you found. Of course, it wasn’t a dagger or an elixir you came up with. The smell of orange was too heavy to not to notice.
You slowly reached toward the lower edge of his mask then, fingers brushing lightly against the material. Waiting, giving him enough time to stop you if he wanted.
Surprisingly enough, he didn’t. Instead, he sighed quietly like you were exhausting beyond reason.
“Ridiculous girl,” he muttered. But he tilted his head upward anyway. Just enough for you to slide the lower half of the mask away and reveal his lips.
You were not seeing his eyes but you were aware that his gaze stayed on your face the entire time as you leaned closer. “You always act like you’re above these things,” you whispered softly, “but you indulge me every single time.”
“Someone,” he replied calmly, “has to tolerate your nonsense.”
And then he kissed you. The citrus flavor lingered between you while his hand rested briefly against your jaw, keeping you there for just a second longer than necessary before he finally pulled away.
You blinked at him quietly afterward. And he simply lowered the mask back into place with complete composure.
“…Didn’t you have something else?” he said after a moment. “That’s too sweet.”
You stared at him in disbelief. “That’s your review?”
“That was your objective, was it not?”
80ies, OG Zandik, coca-cola! When Zandik first took you in, he noticed very quickly that you liked flowers and though he never commented much on it, a greenhouse had quietly appeared not long afterward.
At first, it was yours. Then eventually, somehow, it became his too. Now half the plants inside were labeled with small notes in his handwriting, some altered for experiments, others growing under strange conditions only he understood. The greenhouse smelled less like a garden these days and more like a research facility pretending to be one.
Not that you minded. You found him there again that evening, standing beneath the warm glass ceiling while examining one of the glowing flowers near the center table.
“You’re stealing my greenhouse,” you complained lightly while approaching him from behind. “It was never yours exclusively,” he replied without even turning around. “You simply lacked the intellect to use it efficiently.”
You smiled. There he is, you thought to yourself.
The old man carefully adjusted one of the leaves between his fingers before speaking again. “The western section requires watering tomorrow. You’ve been neglecting it.”
“Wow, Im surprised that you noticed.”
“I notice everything.” You moved closer until your shoulder brushed against his arm. He didn’t move away. At this point, Zandik tolerated your clinginess with the same exhausted acceptance one would have toward a persistent cat.
Your gaze drifted toward the flowers surrounding him. “You know,” you murmured softly, “I think you spend more time here than I do now. Perhaps green makes you feel at ease, hm?”
With dodging your last words, he speaks “That is because unlike you, I possess consistency.”
“But you’re also turning my flowers into experiments.”
“They should be honored.”
You laughed quietly under your breath before gently taking his hand and guiding him toward the nearby table set. He looked mildly annoyed the entire time, but he still sat down, and after a second of hesitation, you settled carefully onto his lap sideways, arms slipping loosely around him while resting your head against his shoulder.
The old man let out the deepest sigh imaginable.
“Hopeless girl.”
Yet his hand still rested against your waist automatically. You smiled against his doctor coat that smells like… science!
The cola-flavored gloss still lingered faintly on your lips, and eventually he noticed too. “That scent,” he muttered after a moment. “Artificial. Overly sweet. Also, very unpleasant.”
You looked up at him innocently. “Maybe it tastes good though.”
His eyes narrowed immediately. “You cannot know without trying it, right?”
For a long second, he simply stared at you like he was debating whether or not you were worth the trouble. Then his hand moved slowly to your jaw and despite all the criticism, he kissed you anyway.
The faint cola flavor mixed between you while the greenhouse remained completely silent around you except for the soft hum of lamps overhead.
When he finally pulled away, his expression remained perfectly composed.
“…Still artificial,” he decided calmly. You burst into laughter instantly and though he clicked his tongue in disapproval you still caught the faint amusement hidden beneath it. He was now, too tired to deal with you, but still managing somehow.
