You and me baby ain't nothin' but mammals
So let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel!
Bloodhound Gang - The Bad Touch
MNDI – NOT SUITED FOR MINORS
Primal instincts take the lead!
In this series of oneshots, hybrid characters from Genshin Impact and Honkai: Star Rail just can’t resist you. Different features, different creatures, same hunger.
List of the creatures:
Red Riding Hood & The Big Bad Pie – In which Red Riding Hood gets the creamiest of the pies! (werewolf!Varka x reader)
TWs: MNDI, PWP, fairy tale vibes, predator/prey, size difference, age gap (he calls reader lil' Red, but reader IS NOT a minor) possessive behavior, manhandling, implied kidnapping. NSFW: non-con to dub-con to con, virginity loss, knotting, breeding kink, dacryphilia, creampie, Varka is in heat, oral sex (f receiving), a tiny bit of rimming and anal play marking/claiming, serving pussy so good he sees Celestia.
Pride Rock (Hard) – In which photographer's focus shifts from wildlife to wild life! (LionHybrid!JingYuan x reader)
TWs: MNDI, implied stalking, abduction, predator/prey dynamics, claiming, forced bonding, power imbalance, size difference, manhandling, blood (from biting), and an itty-bitty plot twist at the end. NSFW: non-con to dub-con, spanking (x2 cause i'm freaky), fingering, oral (m receiving), face fucking, headlock, mating bite, creampie, breeding, cervix bullying, body betrayal (forced orgasm).
My Kitchen, My Rules, Your Face – In which an overworked girl suddenly adopts a feral himbo! (RaccoonHybrid!Caelus x reader)
TWs: Slice of life, breaking and entering, yearning, tsunder-ish reader, , hurt/comfort (just you both being stupid), stalking, possessiveness, jealousy, reader is an overworked office girlie so ummm grumpy x (kinda dumb) sunshine dynamics. NSFW: oral sex (f receiving, face sitting), dirty talk, praise kink, begging, coming untouched, lingerie kink (man in lingerie yall), PiV, protected to unprotected sex (which is really irresponsible dont do that pls), marathon sex, messy sex, exhibionism (kinda? you talk to your boss thru the phone while Cae be pounding), overstimulation, marking, pussy drunk raccoon bum.
Prey 4 D1ck – In which a smol bunny bullies (his way into the) big pussy. (Bunny!Lohen x Lynx!Reader)
TWs: yandere Lohen, stalking, obsessive/possessive behavior, non-con touching, graphic violence, he threatens one guy, blood, knife play, kidnapping (sort of), manipulation, predator/prey dynamic (reversed hihi). NSFW: dub-con, Lohen is a sadomasochist, riding (cowgirl), oral (m and f recieving), face-fucking, cum play, implied heat (reader), collaring, choking, spanking, degradation and humiliation, cum marking, a bit of edging, blood as sexual stimulus, edging.
H2O: Just Add... a Sovereign – In which a fisher girl takes the bait – hook line and sinker! (Merman!Neuvilette x reader)
TWs: manipulation, power Imbalance (god/devotee dynamics), possessive behavior, drowning/asphyxiation, size difference, forced transformation, forced mating, Neuvi breaking corals (DO NOT DO IT). NSFW: dub-con elements, PiV, come marking, belly bulge, he has 2 monster cocks so double penetration (in one hole), oral sex (m and f receiving), overstimulation, cervix fucking, face-fucking, wet and messy, eggpreg, breeding.
FFS! Fox, Feast… Spouse? – In which a certain lonely fox spirit ties the knot... or knots! (Kitsune!Jiaoqiu x reader)
TWs: Lost in the woods trope, manipulation, drugging, forced marriage, heavily implied murder and cannibalism, graphic descriptions of violence and wounds, eye trauma mentioned, drugging, transformation (u lose ur sight but earn uh... some other body parts...), he also turned out a bit yander-ish and ooc lol, erotic horror basically, reader is not okay… this one is pretty dark. NSFW: Non-con, shibari, gag, period sex, blood kink, body betrayal, breeding, creampie, forced orgasm, biting, dacryphilia, sadomasocistic Jiaoqiu, stockhom syndrome (kinda?...).
Just what the Doctor ordered – In which putting all your eggs in one basket doesn't end well! (???Dottore x DoveHybrid!reader)
TWs: Dottore, abduction, captor/captive, cold to possessive dottore, a bit of medical horror, size difference, forced proximity, fearplay, degradation, nesting, death threats, malnourished + petite reader. NSFW: Non-con, monsterfucking, fuck or die situation (for the reader), loss of innocence, oviposition, and egg laying, marking, oral sex (m resieving), twisted aftercare.
2 bulls 1 cow – In which two bulls thoroughly befriend their farmer's prized cowgirl! (BullHybrid!Phainon x CowHybrid!reader x BullHybrid!Mydei)
TWs: Polyamory, love at first sight, size difference, manhandling, praise and degradation kinks, innocent reader, implied cubby reader. NSFW: breeding kink, lactation kink, exhibitionism (outdoor sex), oral sex (m and f receiving), squirting, creampie, overstimulation, dacryphilia, spanking, full nelson, double penetration
Note: order and tags may change, but animalistic behaviour and penetrative sex + possessive behaviour are constant ones.
Your honor, in my defense, I'm an ovulating freak! Also, my birthday is coming up and I've decided to kinda treat myself as well my darlings to some animalistic smut c:
Btw, do tell me if i need to create a taglist for this one.
Upd: Leave a comment under this post if you want me to tag you.
✦ What's better than one jealous Harbinger waiting in Snezhnaya? Several more top Harbingers getting jealous.
(since 6.3 more people are finally shipping Dottie with both travelers. Finally. I've been waiting for days like these. Anyway, all of them will be playable because Da Wei reveal it to me in a dream)
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.
Warnings: A lot of talk about childbirth, labor, and possibly inaccurate medical terms. Mentions of storing and freezing the placenta. Segments using swear words and being involved with the delivery (except 8, he's a minor). Segment 35 (Omega), being a little possessive and self-centered as always. No smut, but mentioned and implied nsfw.
Sitting in the labor room, you held the red scarlet-eyed baby in your arms, stroking the infant's tuft of blue hair every now and then. Segment 8, or "Little Doctor" as you like to call him, leaned over the side to look at the newborn, an innocent sort of curiosity brimming in his very own pair of red eyes.
Your baby was born healthy, looking just like a mix of both you and Zandik. He'd helped deliver it himself, muttering about how he trusted no one but him to take the task upon himself.
Well, technically, it was just Segment 25 who helped with the main task; the others volunteered themselves with other stuff, such as weighing the baby, stitching your tears up, cleaning the blood, storing your placenta and umbilical cord for research purposes, etc.
All the segments insisted on helping out, even Little Doctor, who unfortunately had to sit outside for most of the labor but was eventually allowed in to see the baby and check on you. Everyone's main goal was to ensure the mother and newborn were both safe and healthy.
Now that everything was successfully executed, you and the newborn were both taking a small, well-earned nap. All the adult segments turned to look at one another with suspicion.
Who the fuck was the baby's real father?
They all had slept with you, came inside of you, so the possibility that one of them was the father was 20%.
Except they were all Zandiks.
They all had the same DNA, the same blood. They might as well all be identical twins, if identical twins were all the segment of a man who died a century ago.
"Well? What were we all even expecting? That the baby would be born, and we could take a DNA test to verify the paternity? We all share the same blood dipshits. Ever thought of that?" Segment 18 spat out, looking at the other older segments after they'd all stepped out.
Segment 25 merely took off his mask and gloves, opting to let the other Segments deal with the guy instead.
"We were hoping to keep the peace until the baby was born to keep our Lady's pregnancy smooth. You know she gets troubled when we all get into unnecessary fights." Segment 65 explained, stepping closer to your door to make sure it was locked in case their argument woke you up. "A miscarriage would've been tragic. Besides, we all had our own goals to accomplish during this period. I doubt Omega is going to let you have a share of the placenta."
Omega, or Segment 35, who snuck off to the side to keep your placenta in a freezer, shot them all a dirty look. "How rude! Preserving the placenta has it's benefits-"
"We never said it didn't. But must you be so greedy as to keep it for yourself?" Segment 45 cuts off.
"-because I am the most research-oriented out of all of us, one who shall produce the most fulfilling results. In case of a genetic disease or a tumor, it will prove to be very useful." He preened
"You talk as if you're the real father." scoffs Segment 18.
"Well, of course I am. Who else but I could produce such brilliant progeny."
The comment riled up Segment 18, who walked up to Omega's face, his sharp teeth bare, "So sure of yourself, aren't you, old man? You sure your sperm can even swim that far? Your cock get that hard? Well, getting erect would be no problem for such a beauty; however, I bet her fallopian tubes shriveled the moment you got in you son of a-"
"Alright, alright. There's no need to stir up a ruckus right here," said Segment 25, wiping his hands dry on a towel, clearly the most tired of them all.
Unlike the other Segments, he had to be on-call and close to you that day, and hence had stayed by you till the moment you had pushed the baby out. "She's still inside, sleeping, taking a well-earned nap before one of us has to wake her from her blissful slumber in two hours to take her vitals again. Not to mention, we will need to attend to my newborn as well. For now, we could all take a moment, Segment 8 will alert us should anything happen-"
"What do you mean, 'my newborn'?" Segment 45 butts in, "You didn't even try to debate whether the child is yours or not."
"Well, of course, because it is mine. Only fools fight over what's not theirs-"
"Get a load of this asshole-"
"Can we all take this somewhere else, the baby might wake up-"
"Dottore!" a voice booms from down the hall, along with the sound of multiple footsteps.
All Segments turned around to see The Regrator, Pantalone, along with a few Fatui agents carrying many boxes and bags with them.
"I believe congratulations are in order? How is the missus and the baby?" asked Pantalone.
"Who let this guy know about her labor? I thought we were to keep this information from the other Harbingers," sneered Segment 25.
"And you certainly did, I assure you. No one other than me knows about this little joy of yours. I only happened to find out about this because the 8-year-old segment seemed quite anxious about not being let into the operating room. Seeing as you did not hesitate to let him watch the dissection of the original Zandik, my only conclusion about not allowing him in the operating room was that your wife was giving birth. That, and the fact I hadn't seen her for quite some time. Seemed easy to deduce." The Regrator stated, shrugging and rustling his fur coat.
"And what if it was a surgery like, say, an appendectomy? What use are the gifts then?" Segment 18 pointed out.
"Then I believe that you must get started on producing a progeny, no? Anyway, I've brought a few tokens of goodwill. I hope you'll accept them from a friend."
"Leave them out here. She's sleeping, and we'd rather not disturb her or the baby." Segment 65 said, pointing towards a table for the gifts to be kept. "We'll let her know of them as soon as she's able to concern herself with things other than herself and the baby. I hope you understand she's not in the condition to receive guests at the moment."
"That's alright." The Regrator signed his agents to keep the presents on the table and take their leave.
"Speaking of not disturbing the baby, though, what were all of you arguing about? Well, it's not rare to see each of you in disagreement with the other. Rather, it happens pretty often to be rare. But an opportunity that brings all of you together to have such a conflict......."
"We were discussing who the real father of the baby is," said Segment 18.
Pantalone nodded in understanding.
"I'd hardly call that a discussion. But does it truly matter? All of you are the same person, and hence, similar at your core. I'm sure the child would benefit from having multiple parental figures. I wouldn't call it a major issue."
"It is." Said all the Zandiks there in unison.
"Dear Feofan, it seems you still don't understand us all, even when you are a dear friend of ours. We all may be derived of the same Zandik, but as Dottore, we're all different," Omega explained, "Our values, our approach to research, our research, and our view of this world, they all differ due to the number of memories we carry. Determining the true father is determining whose legacy will be carried on. It isn't as simple as 'raising a child'."
".......so it has to do with your ego," Pantalone cheeked.
"How rude, I have genuine affection towards my wife and my child," said Omega.
"There he goes again," Segment 45 groaned, rolling his eyes.
"Oh my god, it's MY baby you twat," argued Segment 18.
"Well, you're certainly not raising my child with that mouth of yours," said Segment 65 calmly.
"Gents, gents," Pantalone raised his hands, trying to mitigate and calm down all the Dottores before it would escalate, lest they end up dissecting another one of them again.
"I have a solution. How about you solve this the way you know best? You're all intelligent and highly educated individuals; surely you can come to a conclusion amongst yourselves."
All the Zandiks looked at each other, as if they had never considered that idea.
"Determining the father of the baby through research. We can't do a DNA test, but....." mused Segment 45.
"Surely, only DNA can't be the only factor to determine the paternity," suggested Segment 18.
"If we can't find a way to find a match with blood, tissue, or DNA, we could always narrow down the possibility of one of us being the father by calculating the fertility factor of our sperm, the time between conception and delivery, and the general condition of the mother and the baby during pregnancy," Segment 35 muttered.
Pantalone sighed, seemingly relieved that he had managed to prevent another Zandik from being dissected today.
"I must, however, object to executing this plan right now," said Segment 25, "her postpartum period is to last for at the very least 2 months, and we have a newborn to care for as well."
"Naturally," all Segments agreed and nodded.
"Then," smirked Omega, "we shall have a time limit of 2 months to conduct our research. Whosoever manages to bring concrete proof along with the timeline and convinces everyone that the baby is theirs shall get to claim the progeny and raise them. Do we all agree?"
"Yes," said all the Segments.
"Then shall I volunteer as a referee? You know, as a neutral party, to keep things nice and fair?" asked Pantalone.
"Of course, friend. You're more than welcome to invite yourself to my research discussions. You are, after all, the one funding all of our experiments," said Omega gleefully.
Pantalone watched with interest as all of the Segments dismissed themselves, some going to rest after what he assumed was a long day of being in the delivery room, others sprinting to their assigned labs to get a head start on their research, while the rest stayed to be available for you.
'Ah,' Pantalone thought to himself, stepping outside and pulling out a cigarette, 'this whole ordeal shall be quite entertaining.'
Part 2??? (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
a/n: hello hello everynyan |˶˙ᵕ˙ )ﾉﾞ I wrote this at 3 am in a fever dream lol. Fun fact: kids of identical twins are genetic half-siblings. SO if you have an identical twin and have a baby, the baby is also half of your twin lol. It gave me the idea about what if multiple people shared the same DNA and boom that's how I wrote this fic in 2 hours when I have like 12 other drafts that have been collecting dust ehe (ᵕ—ᗜ—) I might make a few edits here and there so pls excuse any grammatical errors lol I don't know english well ≽^•⩊•^≼ anyway enjoy ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡
@luminarylorecat Do not repost, translate, adapt, feed into AI, or claim this work. Reblogs and links are appreciated; copying and reuploading are not.
"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.
Time might as well have stopped flowing forward with how still everything seemed in the silence that stretched. You grew steadily more anxious that you'd somehow insulted his entire bloodline.
The words were foreign on your tongue and the pronunciation most likely off. You'd never heard anyone from Sumeru speaking their native tongue and such had nothing but intuition to go off of.
"I.. loving you?"
Dottore laughed.
But it was a genuine one. Perched on his lap, your body fitting perfectly against his, you could feel his abs tense with every chuckle.
The tips of his ears, barely visible through unruly hair, were flushed. A calloused hand reached to pinch your cheek.
"Your grammar is all wrong."
Before you could protest, huff, defend yourself and the effort it had required to memorise in the first place, he tucked your head under his chin, voice lowered to a whisper.
The eight-year-old Segment was unlike any child you had ever met.
When you were in the Akademiya with Zandik, you had gathered bits and pieces from what he told you about his childhood to somewhat imagine what a little Zandik would look like. It was… difficult to envision, not because you couldn’t form a picture, but because the thought of him being hurt so deeply as a child hurt you too. But when you finally saw the slice of his child self in front of you, you quickly realized the reality was far more cruel than you could ever think of on your own.
His eyes were… empty. For someone so young, not even a glimmer of light could be seen within the redness. It would have comforted you more to see even anger or sadness, but there seemed to be nothing of the sort. And yet, it did not deter you from attempting to befriend him, despite Eight’s initial lack of interest.
He was the child, and yet you were the one wandering after him like a lost kid. The Segment would just stare at you before excusing himself. Perhaps he was confused about why you were speaking to him in such an excited tone. Perhaps he did not know how to deal with it. All he knew was that the others had told him to treat you respectfully but not to bother you, and Eighteen specifically gave him a look every time you tried to usher him closer.
But in the end, a child was a child. A child would think and behave like one no matter how much they buried themselves, and that was also true for little Eight. You had noticed Eight frequently spent his spare time writing and doodling in his notebook, although he would always shut it if you got too close, obviously still guarded around you. At least he had gotten comfortable enough to let you stay in his room. Still, it was easy to piece together what he was doing in there. So, one day you slipped him a drawing of an Aranara you had drawn yourself.
Eight recognized the creature immediately, and you witnessed more emotion than you had seen before, with his eyes widening and mouth parting. He closed his notebook shut and tentatively reached to brush his small fingers against the drawing, and you pushed it closer to him encouragingly.
“Have you ever seen one like this? You know, there are the round ones and-”
“The ones that are skinny with long hats.” Before you could finish your sentence, Eight interrupted you. It was like a switch had been turned on.
“And then there are some with flowers on their heads-”
“And the ones with leaves on top.” It looked like he really was an expert on Aranara facts.
“You know a lot, don’t you?” You beamed at him with interest, and suddenly the child felt a bit shy. It was rare anyone took interest in him or anything he liked, but at the same time, knowing a lot had once gotten him in trouble a long time ago.
“I didn’t expect you could… be so detailed,” Eight said, changing the topic as he brought your doodle close to his face, examining the detail as his nose almost brushed it, in true childlike wonder that he always kept hidden.
“Well, in the Akademiya, you’re usually asked to sketch out your observations like wildlife or architecture, even potential machines and inventions, so I know a bit.” He only continued gazing at the messy Aranara. “You can keep it, if you like.” Eight glanced at you, slowly nodding as he finally set the paper down. He looked a bit more relaxed now.
“Now… would you mind if I see your drawings?” You pressed the tips of your fingers together, brightening with hope. Eight already guessed you had been itching to ask him that for a while. At first, he would have rejected you, but now he felt a bit more… comfortable.
The child Segment didn’t need to answer, only opening his notebook to the first page and leaving it there for you. You clasped your hands together with a resonant ‘thank you’ as you pulled a chair to sit next to him at his desk.
“Some Aranara have hats of different shapes and colors. Some of their hats cover their faces. Others have leaves drooping down instead of hats,” you read aloud from the journal. Each description was accompanied by a drawing. “Some also have bowties or carry around weapons. They’ve also picked up habits from humans, such as cooking or living in houses.”
For someone who didn’t seem to feel much, Eight watched you intently as you examined his notes. Maybe he subconsciously looked for approval. At the very least, you looked to be absorbed in his words, allowing him to feel a bit proud of himself.
“This is some really good research. Thank you for trusting me with it,” you said softly, hand reaching out to hold his, until you stopped midway and drew back. Perhaps it was best not to push things so quickly. “Though… I do think some of these sketches could use some color.”
“I would,” the boy nodded in agreement, “but I don’t have anything to color them with.” A spark of sadness flickered in your heart, knowing that he was chained to the mindset of a child and was not even allowed to indulge in it.
“Well, why don’t I get us some colored pencils and we can fill them in together? Adding a bit of color is sure to add some life, hmm?”
And so a few days later, you were once again sitting near Eight with his notebook open. You had made sure to order the most high-quality coloring supplies for little Eight. Even he could not hold back his excitement, observing them up close one by one and picking out the ones he’d use for the Aranaras. In all honesty, he was more focused on coloring than you, and seemed very intent on making sure everything was accurate… But you didn’t mind. You only gave some pointers here and there and answered his questions on whether the color he chose was good or not.
“Thank you,” Eight said eventually. He couldn’t remember the last time he expressed gratitude for something, because the only thing other people ever did was hurt him.
“Anything for you, sweet one.” He didn’t respond to the pet name, and you quickly worried you had overstepped, before Eight nodded and went back to coloring.
Perhaps if he had just had someone who supported him when he was young and took interest in him, things could have turned out differently.
—
One day, you had called Eight to the kitchen, and he was immediately greeted with a delicious smell.
“Oh, you’re right on time!” You called for him and ushered him closer. He took in the mess of the kitchen before he noticed what was making his mouth water. A tray of baklava sat there, sliced and ready to be served.
“You all still like to eat, don’t you? I thought I’d make something for all of your hard work.” You were busy cleaning with your back turned. “I invited you to have the first bite. Help yourself.”
He and the other Segments would go to the Fatui’s cafeteria, and although it was nice, it didn’t really have food from Sumeru. They would never bring up their dissatisfaction, however. But now, one of his favorite treats from his homeland sat in front of him. The older Segments might have lingered around you some more, but him? The child couldn’t help but want to dig in as soon as possible.
“Thank you.” Those words were starting to become familiar to him again. Eight’s fingers pinched a piece of the dessert and took a small bite before immediately devouring the whole thing. It was probably the best thing he’d ever tasted. He glanced at you before taking another piece, and another…
“Do you like them?” You finished cleaning the area and washing the tools as you made your way to the table. “It’s been a while since I made any so-” You paused when you noticed at least a third of the tray was gone, and the child had stuffed cheeks.
Eight blinked at you. You blinked back. You were at a loss for words before you burst out laughing at the sight.
“Y-You don’t need to eat that fast, you know. I can always make some more.” You grabbed a tissue and began wiping around his mouth. You remembered Zandik being a fast eater back in the Akademiya, but you didn’t know he could gobble stuff down this quick. Eight stiffened as you tenderly wiped off the crumbs and fussed over him, and though it felt weird, it wasn’t weird enough for him to push you away.
“Hmm… I guess I’ll portion the rest for the others. We can give Eighteen the least for being a big meanie. Hehe, don’t tell the others, alright?” Your little accomplice nodded, chewing the dessert slower, not only savoring the flavor but… your kindness too.
Eight had started to open himself up to you, slowly but surely.
—
Little Eight had begun to seek you out on his own, cling to your side, to grab onto your sleeve and look up at you with expectant eyes. With that, the boy had become oddly observant of you.
“You don’t look well,” he pointed out.
“Hm? Oh. I’m… I’m fine. Just a bit tired but-” Before you could finish, Eight grasped your clothes and led you over to sit down. Of course, you couldn’t refuse him. “Really, I don’t-” Eight pressed his small hand against your forehead.
“Your face is warm, and you’re sweating a bit. You should stay here. I’ll get one of the others and the medical record.” It was almost jarring to see a kid assess the situation with such calmness. Perhaps he already had experience with this from Regrator, though. Or maybe he just had to grow up quicker than other children.
“But… you don’t need to do all this. I can take care of myself…” He should just be allowed to be a child, you wanted to say. He shouldn’t have to be in this dreary lab with experiments of this nature.
“I want to.” Eight was surprised those words left his lips as easily as they did. He had thought he had become numb to the suffering of others. He knew something was wrong with him for that. But when he looked at you, it made him upset that you were in pain.
“… You’re very sweet. Thank you.” The others had told you that the child Segment had already lost his compassion, but every day, you learned that clearly wasn’t true.
—
The eight-year-old carried around his notebook like it was a lifeline, clutching it to his chest. If he had to put it down, he’d always make sure it was within his line of sight. You knew that his notes were important to him, but you couldn’t help but feel that there was something else to this behavior.
You found out the answer one day, when you were in Eight’s room. He was searching for his notebook in front of you when he opened his drawer to reveal a few copies of the same black notebook, before grabbing one of them.
All of the notebooks looked the same, so you had no idea he had multiple. But it didn’t strike you as unusual at first. You just assumed he had filled up that many notebooks with his ideas, and naturally, you wanted to see.
“Do you mind if I read these?” You pawed at the covers.
“You can, if you want. But you probably already read most of them.” That made you pause.
“What do you mean?”
“Those notebooks all contain the same content. I just wrote most of the important stuff in all of them.” So… he was making duplicates of the same thing?
“But why?”
“Sometimes I misplace them. And then sometimes one of the others throws it out.”
“Throw… throw them out?” You repeated, as if you were in disbelief, but Eight seemed to be unaffected.
“It’s mostly Eighteen that does that. But I don’t want to lose my ideas, so I just write them down in multiple places just in case.” Your jaw was left slack as Eight calmly flipped through his current notebook.
“A-And what does he say?”
“That it’s childish. Or a waste of time. Things like that.” He didn’t think about it when you didn’t respond, but before he knew it, you were up and pacing around the room. “What’s wrong?”
“He can’t do that to you!” You had never spoken to him this loudly, which took him off guard, and you recognized that and took a deep breath. “That… is just wrong. I will not let him do it again. I’m- I’m going to speak to him right now!” Eight realized that this was the first time he saw you truly frustrated, and it was on his behalf, too. You almost burst out the door before he called for you.
“Wait,” the child requested. Never one to ignore Eight, you listened. “You don’t need to do that.”
“Yes, I do. If I’m here, no one is doing that to you. Why, I might as well go and throw out his property and see how he likes it!” Eight felt a bit of warmth prick his face at your outspokenness. But he really didn’t want to start a fight with Eighteen, which would probably escalate to the others, with Thirty-Five telling them not to hinder his work, Forty-Five laughing, Sixty-Five being tired, and the original Zandik… what would he do?
“I’d prefer it if you stayed with me.” You opened your mouth and closed it again, expression softening.
“Well then… I guess me and Forty-Five will do something to get back at him in secret instead then.” You couldn’t help but give in to Eight, especially when he was learning to be so genuine with you. You sat on the edge of the bed with him and rubbed your hand on his back. However, you still looked troubled.
You thought back to the days you spent with the original Zandik back at the Akademiya. Eighteen was the only Segment you had a concrete understanding of, considering he was a replica of the one you knew so deeply when you were young. You had seen his bitterness firsthand, the desire for himself and his ideas to be acknowledged, only for it to never happen, sending him deeper into his resentment for the world. He would grip you, stubborn tears rolling down his face that he silently asked you to ignore. Perhaps if you had remained in the waking world, you could have done something, but…
“You know, um, Eight,” you began, and the Segment gave you his attention. “About Eighteen… I wouldn’t say he hates you. He just…” The child’s eyes bore into you as he watched you fumble for words. “I guess… He might be a little jealous of you.” That seemed to surprise the little boy.
“I don’t understand. There is nothing I have that he doesn’t.” Eight furrowed his brows, carefully thinking, and a part of you was flattered he was taking your opinion so seriously. “Eighteen has his own lab, office, equipment, proposals, funding, experiments… I don’t really have any of that.” Well, there had been proposals he had been drafting for Pantalone, some with your assistance, but he had yet to present any of them… Most of his duties included assisting the others with their tasks instead.
“Well, all of that is true but… Eighteen doesn’t have your mind.” Perhaps deep down, Eighteen wished he too could be a bit “childish.” Although Eight had clearly gone through something rough, he managed to retain something Eighteen could not. Could Eighteen ever find something and pursue it with pure wonder and excitement as a child could? He couldn’t. Instead, the older Segment was only trapped within the harsh reality of this world’s cruel rules and laws. But how could you explain that to a little boy?
“By which I mean, he doesn’t have the proper mind to appreciate your dear Aranara. And it’s a shame, because he wants to, but… can’t.” You tried to word it as best you could. “Of course, what he did is still wrong, but…” You trailed off, really not knowing what to say, but Eight only leaned into your embrace. He could understand that this was your attempt to make him feel better. Honestly, you had already done more than you knew, because Eighteen always seemed to be in a far better mood whenever you were around. And whether he liked it or not, the older Segment still stayed with him for a lot of things.
The original Zandik, the one who was fascinated with you more than any sort of research, had once told him that your warmth could fill an entire room. Obviously, that didn’t make sense in the literal way, so it was metaphorical. But only now did Eight understand what the older man had meant by that. Actually, now he understood why all the other Segments trailed after you, looking for attention.
You were truly a warm person.
His eyes flickered from you to the floor, and back to you again, as if he was making an important choice. Within the span of a few moments, the tiny Segment turned to fully embrace you, arms wrapping around your body, making you softly gasp. Without hesitation, you gently reciprocated and held his smaller body. Eight always did like when you patted the top of his head.
The child really liked you a lot. Maybe you could convince the others to let him take a trip to Sumeru? Or at least get one of his proposals approved? But for some reason, those things didn’t seem as much of a priority now, when compared to spending time with you.
