aether is telling you about his newest expedition in nod krai, mentioning things like columbina, and how much paimon loved their food. his new friends, new enemies, and a clue to his next journey... it was both breathtaking and hitching all at once and-
"and... oh, well you know how they are i- mmh!" it was already too late when your lips were on his, aether's eyes widen before easing into you.
he hadn't even realized it but he already had cupped your face and was already trying to lean into you for more. "huh? why'd you stop?"
kaveh is ranting to you about his most recent client, i mean, his infastructure was astounding, and certainly nothing went wrong with the prototype, who the hell just cancels out of nowhere?! what was this jerk even thinking??
"it's just- aarrgghh! infuriating!" you could see the steam coming out from his ears, his eyebrows quirking in his usual way. a small pout forming, and when his mouth finally was about to move- "an- mmm..."
he already had his hand tilting your chin upwards, letting out a pleased groan. "ah, leaving way too soon. you trying to tell me to shut up, or something?"
dottore and you were just walking in silence, silence that didn't include him. because for.. you stopped counting, but probably around fifteen minutes of just talking about his newest plan. something about... well probably snezhnaya and the gods again. you didn't really know.
"hah, can't you believe it. could mortals really be as... stupid?" - "what about me?" - "i know you aren't stupid enough to think you're includ-"
placing your lips on his briefly was enough for him to stop, and let you take the lead for a few steps. "you coming, zan'?" - "you... are interesting."
pantalone loves the time off he gets because god, he barely gets time off anymore. especially with the new currency plan he has in mind, and now he had the time to tell you all about it! so, what happens when that's not all you wanna hear from him?
"you see the pinnacle of my plan, yes? it's something i've been working on for a wh- mmm," he already closed his eyes, he was taken a bit aback yet he found himself already wanting more.
trying to lean in for one more before you pull away toooo far... "hmm? you started this, do you really wanna run off?"
itto being itto was him talking about his newest beetle, checking out how how its size would make any other challengers cower, you couldn't really find yourself wanting to listen. not when you hadn't seen him in a week and this is what he was doing?
"can you believe it, babe?! i beat him before ten second even hit the clock, i'm just amaz- mmhmmm! mmmh..." before he knew it he already (and very nervously) placed his arms around your waist.
"good... lord, you taste... nice, baby, is that the chapstick i got you last week? ack! okay, sorry!"
cyno is haha very tediously telling you a joke. and you just couldn't take it anymore so you just leaned in and made sure it was a gesture he wouldn't forget about and would stop telling you about how a shoe made out of a banana its called a slipper.
"wasn't that funny? why... babe, why aren't you laughing, beautiful? did i- mmmh." for how 'funny' his jokes are, he finds his hands caressing the sensitive skin of your lower back. pulling your closer by your waist.
"mmm, you... you are something." - "better than your jokes?" - "ill have to consider, you're a good kisser."
tighnari was just talking and talking and talking about the mushrooms he had been recently using for the dishes he had been so insistent on cooking. in which he did but realized pretty late that you had left that dish untouched, thinking of touching something else instead.
"and, you know how often these appear? how lucky are we that we have them growing our garden? baby? are you li- mmh!" you could already visualize his ears pointing upwards in the shock, only to feel him lean into your lips a little more.
"you... you are so... you are gonna be the death of me."
durin has you leaning on his shoulder while the rest of your friends danced in the middle of angel's share. sharing apple juice with each other that felt even more romantic and cheesy than it should've.
it was cute in a way really, it got to a point where varka and albedo have commented, and now here he was. your favorite dragon talking about his newest conch he-
"-found in liyue, isn't that great? hat guy took me out there, i wish you were there. all the views reminded me of you. so here, keep the co- what are y- mmn..." subconsciously his wings flap at the sudden warm sensation on his lips.
"y- you... what?"
lohen is busy talking to you about his latest encounter with the abyss. ringing an arm around your shoulder as he shows you around, pulling you close and super distinctively inhales your scent in. i hope you know that he cuts off a lot of his sentences just to tell you how nice you smell and look and are today.
"geez. you're amazing, i can't help but appreciate y- mmmn! mmn..." you can tell he was a little surprised but pulls you in more. it really get to a point where you need to pull away to breathe.
"oh? you seem excited. now you wanna back away."
varka is the kind of guy to pull you in by the waist, and starts to trail his kisses down your neck that turns to bites. has his free hand already cupping your face. it's so habiskjdasdjkhsa that the guy who was trying to hit on you just a moment ago. he would've just told the guy to fuck off but he doesn't mind this either.
"oh? what makes you think they aren't take- huh? what's that ba- mmn!" taken offguard the moment he feels you on him but again, hey. he likes showing off what's his.
fatui male harbingers smut headcanons w f!reader , ranked from highest to lowest stamina (headcanon) | includes all male harbingers except pulcinella
a/n: requests are open for headcanons, mostly for fatui and nod krai cast ! send me an ask don't be shy :3 request rules are here !
minors dni | likes , reblogs , and follows are appreciated ! <3
TARTAGLIA — HIGHEST STAMINA
as the youngest harbinger, there's no doubt he has the highest stamina out of the fatui men. he's very proud about it, too. he loves to fuck, and it's a surprise to no one. there'll be some days where all he wants to do is ravish you after a long day of combat and fatui affairs, while on other days he wants to take his time to fuck your brains out. sometimes it's hard to keep up with him in bed, with the way he seems to never tire. he loves every single bed activity there is: fucking, eating your pussy, fingering, playing with sex toys, having you suck his dick if you wanted it, and even anal. there is never a time he isn't in the mood to fuck; he'll take every chance he gets to spread that pussy of yours open. this man can't keep his hands to himself at all either; all he wants to do is touch you and please you. tartaglia doesn't have any shame either, he'll take you anywhere and everywhere. quickies by the training grounds, in one of the hallways of the zapolyarny palace, in a secluded spot in the northland bank, and even short makeout sessions during work. this man's hunger is never a joke, because he'll never get tired of you. either way, you'll always be in for a ride with tartaglia, as he probably won't stop until the sun comes up.
SCARAMOUCHE —
technically... he's a puppet... so do puppets really get tired? but seriously, he's definitely a freak—a bratty and cocky freak at that. he loves to degrade you while his hand is wrapped around your throat as he thrusts his cock sharply into you. he gets off to the sound of your moans and pleas, the way your pussy flutters around him with desperation and need from every thrust. scara definitely loves to tie you up too, hands bound together with your legs spread wide and your ankles shackled down so you can't move. he'll tease you, edge you, and overstimulate you until you can't take it anymore. sometimes he even uses a vibrator on you while you're tied up in that position, pressing the toy in a torturous motion against your pussy. and he's not nice about it either. he'll continue to overstimulate your clit till you're shaking and sobbing, begging for him to stop the vibrator. if he's nice enough, he'll lower the intensity, but otherwise... he'll only ramp up the speed. and when you come for the nth time that night, he'll do the honour of cleaning you up by eating your pussy, licking all your juices. and just when you think he's done with you, he comes back for another round, ready to hear your pretty moans.
DOTTORE —
having dottore as a sex partner means having a tons of other guys as your sex partners too. what i mean by that is his segments. each segment has their own level of freak, and by extension, their own level of stamina. omega definitely has the highest stamina out of the rest of the segments, followed by moonttore and primettore. prime definitely has a thing for watching his segments fuck you in front of him, it's like a guilty pleasure. he loves to watch as a segment thrusts himself balls deep inside of you while another has his cock in your mouth, and maybe another to touch and tease you while the other two work on you. moonttore is especially cruel; he'll fuck your pretty little cunt till you're full of his cum and you can't walk. sometimes dottore takes turns with his other segments to fuck you, milking your poor pussy out for the night. he fucks like a man deprived and starved, burying his cock deep inside of you until you beg for him. he's definitely the type to use a drug or aphrodisiac on you if it means you'll be extra sensitive for his cock and touch. anything to help you keep up with his desires. stamina is never a problem for dottore, because there'll always be a segment that's ready to keep your pussy full and warm.
PIERRO —
don't ever assume that his age affects his stamina in the bedroom. while yes, his stamina has definitely worn down over time, pierro knows how to fuck and satisfy their partner properly. he knows your weaknesses and your sensitive spots, and he uses them to his advantage. his knowledge definitely comes from his years of experience, and he'll use them to the fullest to satisfy you. as the director of the fatui harbingers, he's always stressed and has a lot of pent up frustration. so what better way to relieve himself than to fuck his partner? he's the type to fuck you anywhere: bent over his desk, hidden by a pillar in the halls of the zapolyarny palace, or even in the tsaritsa's throne room—as long as she isn't there, of course. pierro will give his all to satisfy you, regardless of how quick he is or where you two are. he's usually very rough with you, but can be quite gentle surprisingly. by the time he's tired, you're shaking and trembling with pleasure, down to your fourth orgasm. even though he gets worn out faster than the rest, he knows how to leave a lasting impression on your pussy.
CAPITANO —
capitano is only this low on the list purely because of how crazy the rest are. most of the time, capitano likes to take his time with you, with slow and deep thrusts and a lot of groaning. he drags out each thrust of his hips and each flick of his fingers against your clit, drawing out soft moans from your lips. he takes his time to please you, conserving his energy while satisfying you. but on days where he feels more stressed than usual, he's rough, fervent. he'll bend you over against the nearest surface, rutting himself deep inside of you till you're arching your back and seeing stars. he'll have his large hands everywhere on you—your hips, your thighs, your waist, your breasts, even your throat to choke you when he's incredibly horny. he loves to watch your expressions as he pounds into you, watching the way your chest heaves and rises sharply with each thrust. and when his body finally gives up and spills his seed inside you, you're ruined beyond comprehension. he'll carry you effortlessly to somewhere more comfortable once you two are done, and he'll make sure to ease any pain he may have caused you during his fervour.
PANTALONE — LOWEST STAMINA
pantalone is a loser. the end. jokes aside, i think pantalone definitely has a lower stamina compared to the rest of the fatui men, but not to be disappointed. he's absolutely kinky in the bedroom, often spicing up your activities with toys and gadgets. he loves to tease your pussy with a vibrator, playing with the setting while shoving a dildo in and out of your pussy. but that doesn't mean he's lazy, because he loves to touch you everywhere and anywhere his hands can reach while using the vibrator on you. fondling your breasts and ass, rubbing your thighs, marking and kissing your neck and collarbone, even fingering your pussy while the vibrator rubs on your clit. but when pantalone does actually fuck you, it's absolutely hot. he'll have his hands everywhere on you during sex, teasing your tits as he drives his cock deeper and deeper inside of you. his thrusts are sharp and rough, but they gradually get sloppier over time when his stamina begins to wane. he'll hold out long enough to see and feel you cum at least twice from his cock, watching as your juices coat his cock and wet the bed. and when he's exhausted? if you're still horny? don't worry, he's still got that vibrator and his fingers to fuck you.
All Genshin men x gn!reader (alphabetically) / sfw / established relationship -> women version (coming soon)
Aether
He won't acknowledge the way he sinks back into your touch when your fingers thread through the golden strands of hair hanging down his back, nor the way a low rumbling sound of bliss seems to emerge from the back of his throat when you massage a particularly sensitive spot on his head. Simply the feeling of your gentle hands brushing and re-braiding his adventure-knotted hair is a reprieve from his demanding everyday life.
Albedo
Watching you sleep is something he can't seem to stop, eyes wandering to you slouched form, observing the rhythmatic way your chest rises and falls as you dream, draped across his work desk or tucked into his side. He'll smooth a gloved hand across your hair, or drape a blanket around your shoulders to prevent the sub zero temperatures of dragonspine from seeping in. There's just something so peaceful about the way you look that soothes his fabricated heart.
Alhaitham
He'll be lounging on the plush cushions of your sofa after a long day of being the academia's scribe, one arm resting lazily behind his head and the other cradling some academic text or another. You'll slide in beside him, attempting to squeeze yourself in next to his broad form on the narrow sofa and he'll grumble under his breath in feigned complaint - he never really means it - but the shift of a bicep from behind him to tucking you securely into his side tells another story.
Ayato
He often takes a brief respite from his duties to wander the estate grounds, pausing in doorways when he hears the soft tune of your humming as he passes by. You'll be doing something inconsequential he doesn't bother to note, but the sound - no matter how perfect or off key it might be, it matters little to him - just seems to lure him closer. He'll wind his arms around your waist, whispering in your ear with a tone full of both amusement and fondness alike - yet he won't yet mention how the mundanity of such a task feels like a refreshing break from the formality of his everyday life.
Baizhu
Never will he outright admit his condition has worn him down, yet when you see him and the weariness of bearing the weight of Liyue's health on his shoulders, it touches a soft, vulnerable part of his tired heart. He'll gently decline your invitation to help, his duty is something he deigned to shoulder alone - and that is to be his fate - though when you insist on sharing that burden, such a concerned expression on your face well, he just can't say no to you it seems.
Capitano
He's not accustomed to gentleness or softness, so the contrast of your slow, soothing touch against the cold hard steel of his helmet is such a foreign sensation he takes weeks to get used to it. Your soft hands trace the inky black abyss where his face would be with such tenderness it feels like he doesn't deserve this sort of adoration, yet he'll lean down into your touch, bringing one large hand up to dwarf your own, brushing his fingers against your knuckles in what he hopes is a gentle manner.
Childe
He may or may not say - depending on the outcome - that being scolded by you is something of a guilty pleasure, though guilty is probably less of the right word in his case, try obvious. He tries at least a little to school his expression into something neutral when you frown and press the antibacterial cloth a little harder into the cuts littering his skin, telling him off for being so reckless. Despite the reprimanding tone of your voice, he can see the worry flickering across your expression - ok maybe he's a little guilty now.
Cyno
He returns home late most days, well into the early hours of the morning, so the last thing he expects is to see you slumped over the arm of the sofa - clearly where you've slid down from an upright position. He'll slide strong arms under you and slide you back into bed, only joining you after shedding all his heavy gear and the weight of his duties for the night. You'll receive a mild lecture in the morning - why you shouldn't wait up for him when it poorly impacts your own sleep - but when you shyly mention you seem to struggle to sleep without the warmth of his presence next to you, he can't help but soften and let you off the hook, only to find you in the exact same position the next night.
Dahlia
He's easy to please, any time spent in your company is pleasure enough for Dahlia, yet when you drag him to the sofa with two cups of warm sugary tea waiting for you on the coffee table - insisting he regale you with every minute detail of his day (not to mention the gossip he mentioned offhandedly a few days ago) - it's both surprising and heart warming to realise you've noticed and listened to the random things he says. And for that, he'll gladly indulge your curiosity, no matter how mundane.
Diluc
Watching you tiptoe your way back into the bedroom, swathed in one of his silken shirts that practically drowns your form and balancing a cup of coffee in each hand will forever be one of Diluc's favourite sights. You don't even notice he's awake, half propped up on his elbows with that piercing crimson gaze following you as you edge closer. When you do eventually catch him staring and burst out into laughter, passing him his mug as you slip back into the sheets beside him, he'll allow himself to join in, even if a little pink in the cheeks.
Dottore
He'll openly admit that he gets a little thrill when you depend on him for anything. No matter if it's something trivial and you could most likely do it yourself or you genuinely require help from him or a segment (unless you're interrupting important research - that will earn you a look that could put you in your grave and an irritated huff indicating you should 'do something yourself for once'). Though his favourite instance is when you get sick, he can test all manner of new remedies on you to his hearts content, satisfying that mad scientist element in him, but also quietly tend to that tiny part of him that still has something loving inside.
Heizou
Oh if anything could prove more entertaining and endearing then having you perched on his lap, attempting to help solve a case he figured out twenty minutes ago. He would tell you, but the sight of your brow furrowed in concentration and the gleeful look on your face when you turn around to point out a clue you'd linked is so terribly charming to the poor detective he'll follow along for just a little while longer. He then tests how many times he can repeat this scenario before you notice that he's already solved these cases, he just enjoys seeing your face light up, even more so when his own cheeks tint pink at the sight.
Flins
He's developed the awful habit of hiding away in his lantern every time you so much as have a petty dispute - terrible sulker that he is. Every time you sigh, chastising his childish behaviour under your breath but still picking up said lantern, purple glow flooding the darkness of the corridors, and set it on the bedside table before turning to sleep - he never expects it. He eventually comes to the amusing realisation you most likely can't sleep without him near, or struggle to at the least. When you wake, you'll find a certain fae out of hiding, wound around you like a constrictor with his face buried in the crook of your neck.
Gorou
Seldom does he let anyone near his canine features, until you manage to become a small exception to that rule. Oh he'll never admit it, but the blissful sleepy expression on his face whilst you comb through the matted fur of his tail after an exhausting day sparring and patrolling betrays his true emotions. If you deign to tease him even a little, he blushes a furious red and huffs in grumbled protest, yet he still can't seem to pull away from your soothing touch.
Ifa
Oh he's weak for seeing you in his clothes. When he emerges from the bedroom to find you perched on the edge of the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in hand and another waiting beside you, black and bitter - exactly how he has it - his discarded shirt from last night haphazardly thrown on, he swears he has momentary heart palpitations. Even more so when you throw a knowing grin his way and gesture to the cooling caffeine waiting for him.
Itto
The bigger question is what don't you do that makes him fold instantly? If he had to pick one thing in particular however, it would have to be when you indulge his childish dramatics. He'll boast about an onikabuto fight against a child from the city he won, he's aware it's not anything significant, yet when you laugh and clap encouragingly, it touches him in profound ways he can't seem to articulate.
Kaeya
He may not remember it most of the time, his memories a hazy blur of wine and charm, yet on the occasion he does recall you leaning his weight against you and dragging him home from the angel's share to heard him into bed and make him drink some water - swiping a damp cloth over his forehead in an attempt to sober him up just a little, lest he suffer another god awful hangover - he feels the sickeningly sweet feeling of what he refuses to admit is love settle at the pit of his stomach.
Kaveh
Oh he's far too flustered to admit that when he finds himself slumped against his desk, head on an array of architectural papers and pencil still in hand - waking up to instead realise he's propped up on a pillow, blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a freshly made cup of tea still emitting steam inches away - his heart does a little flip in his chest. He knows you know it's a bad habit he won't stop anytime soon, yet the little things you do show him just how much you care.
Kazuha
He's a wandering spirit, unable to stay in one place for too long, and though it pains him to leave you behind every now and then - he can't help but feel a little more in love every time he sees you at the dock, waving at him with that saccharine smile and unbridled enthusiasm. It's the knowledge that you'll always be here, waiting for him to inevitably follow his loyal heart back to you that keeps him going.
Kinich
In the rare moments Ajaw isn't trailing behind Kinich like a loud record that won't ever stop playing - much to both yours and Kinich's disdain - he can't help but allow himself the indulgence of your touch. He may not seem like a very touchy guy on the outside, which is partially true, but with Ajaw's frequent interference, physical contact is a luxury not often afforded. So he finds himself wrapping his arms around you like he'll be ripped away the next second, leaning into the warmth of your body like it's his saving grace.
Lyney
He's become so adept at maintaining the façade, the show persona, that when you see past it for the first time, he can't help but be thrown a little off guard. It's when you notice the fatigue under the performer, that he feels seen. It's an odd feeling for him but one he learns to embrace anyway, and one day he finds there's little more comforting than the warmth of your embrace when you ask after his wellbeing.
Neuvillette
Hardworking and hardly ever home should become the motto for Neuvillette's life sometimes, being chief justice of Fontaine means piles of paperwork makes their way onto his desk every time he so dares to glance away from it. It makes the bright afternoons where you slip into his office with lunch and a adoringly sweet kiss to his cheek all the more gratifying. Even spending those 30 minutes with you every few days makes the workload looming above him seem a little smaller.
Ororon
He's perfected the art of awkward fumbling and shy gaps in conversation at this point, no matter how close you get to each other he seems to never overcome this lull in interaction, though you find it endearing, he still flushes with embarrassment every time. Therefore he's come to favour the time he spends with you that takes place in comfortable silence. Whether you're helping him in the vegetable patch or simply sitting side pressed to side on the sofa together, minutes away from falling asleep - all of it soothes his anxious heart and lets him enjoy your company without the nerves of conversation.
Pantalone
For such a wealthy man, he's the farthest from profligate someone could be. Every expensive is documented and accounted for, yet somehow the jewel encrusted necklace that appears on your vanity one day seems to escape the logs. So does the subtly expensive perfume a few days later, then the flowers delivered to your workplace. When questioned, he'll deny any knowledge of such things, claiming they simply don't exist, but the way his lips curve upward when he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead is telling.
Sethos
He's a tease, a fact he won't even deny himself, especially when it comes to you. But then on occasion you'll find it amusing to return the favour, and suddenly he finds himself at a loss for what to do. He never expects you to turn the tables on him and whisper something in his ear or drag a finger down his chest in smug reciprocation, and it makes him blush and mumble something inaudible under his breath every time, much to your delight, he finds.
Thoma
Everyone on the Kamisato estate knows Thoma is arguably the best cook within a 50 mile radius, and he himself cannot deny that his skills in the kitchen are proficient. But on days housework and errands have made his muscles feel like lead and the thought of facing yet something else to tackle when he gets home makes him want to run in the opposite direction, walking through the front door to the smell of your already half finished cooking fills him with gratitude like no other. He'll smother you in kisses while you try and finish purely for taking the weight off his shoulders every now and again.
Tighnari
He's often up late, working on ranger schedules or logging another mushroom related incident as a result of yet another person that's not listened to his advice correctly - yet when he feels a pair of warm arms wind around his shoulders and your face settle into the crook of his neck - he can't help but feel an irresistible temptation to retreat back into the bed. He's been brushing off how tired he feels for at least an hour now and the way you murmur in his ear for him to give up and get some sleep has given him a fresh realisation of the weight in his bones. Maybe the work can be finished in the morning after all.
Venti
As the so called 'weakest archon', he's become used to falling into last place, and he doesn't even mind honestly - sometimes it's better to not have the pressure of being the most powerful. Yet the first time you call him 'my strong archon', he stops like a deer in headlights. He doesn't remember the last time someone referred to him like that, and so confidently too. For once the bard is genuinely flustered - having to turn away and bashfully hide his face before you can notice the impact those three words had on him. Maybe with you he can let himself feel like something other than the weakest.
Wanderer
He often finds himself awake during the night, restless and plagued by memories of the pasts he's lived. He won't admit it, but he doesn't want to burden you with the same, so he'll carefully extract himself from your embrace, pour himself a cup of the most black and bitter tea he could possibly make and head out to sit on the back step, staring up at the endless expanse of Teyvat's star smothered sky. He comes to realise merely minutes later, footsteps approach from behind. He won't turn to look - he knows it's you - but when you settle in next to him with your own cup and inevitably end up falling fast asleep against him moments later, he won't complain.
Wriothesely
Seldom does Wriothesley have the time to emerge to the surface, and that consequently results in very little shared time between the two of you. Therefore imagine his surprise when he returns to his office after seeing to a matter elsewhere in the fortress to find you perched on the edge of his cluttered desk, tea tray stocked and set beside you, with that knowing smirk dancing across your features. He's taken aback for all of a second before suddenly he's right in front of you, sweeping you up into his strong arms. A short break from his duties couldn't hurt.
Xiao
He's not used to being around people, that much is blatantly obvious after spending any amount of time in Xiao's company - he doesn't care for company much either. However after some persistence, he finds you've snuck your way into his space without him even realising, or caring at that - something about your companionship is less bothersome than most. You'll clamber your way up to the roof of wangshu inn most nights, perch yourself next to him and just... exist. He notes you don't scramble to fill the silence, you just lean against his shoulder and watch the stars with him.
Zhongli
He's lived for centuries, and every memory, every whisper of a ghost in the hallways of someone he used to know, is a burden he and he alone must bear. He's steeled himself to this reality - the price an archon must pay - yet when you, a mortal, string your hands through the golden tips of his hair, or gently trace the gold markings that line the charcoal skin of his forearms, listening intently to his stories like there's weight to each and every detail - the load on his heart feels just that little bit lighter.
A/N: This has been in my drafts for way too long why did i think this would take me like 10 mins </3
SYNOPSIS: Seeking to deepen his understanding of the human mind, The Doctor offers a ‘special’ experiment to his favourite subordinate—you—and his dear friend, Regrator. Amidst the heat of the study, the fine line between scientific curiosity and personal intrusion blurs as the Second Harbinger finds himself joining in on the fun.
CONTENT WARNING: DUBCON, fatui!reader, reader is dottore’s subordinate, reader is referred to as ‘miss’, petty bickering between the old men, slight scientific jargon, prob inaccurate science stuff (sorry), slight pervert pantalone, smut (mdni), nipple play (?), pantalone-centric in first half of smut, p*rn w/o plot, exhibitionism, dottore gets FOMO lowkey, implied use of aphrodisiac (m), p in v, protected sex but eventual unprotected sex, threesome, double penetration, anal sex (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, not beta read.
WORD COUNT: 8.2k
NOTES: happy june :”3 !! i hope you enjoy this very self indulgent piece! i haven’t written a threesome in ages so apologies if its a bit clunky </3. div: babyg4rlhelps
The hallway leading to The Doctor’s laboratory was eerily quiet, his subordinates—like yourself—were currently on break at the cafeteria indulging in much needed fuel to power through yet another hectic day. The soles of your shoes echoed throughout the metallic floors, it served as a reminder at how deserted the corridor was; even though you’ve walked down this same path for years, the atmosphere never once failed to lick an icy shiver down your spine. It didn’t help how lifeless and dull these hallways were. As for the purpose of your early return in The Doctor’s laboratory, one of your colleagues had told you that the Harbinger required your presence urgently, and given your colleagues' words, it seemed to be a matter of importance.
Though, you wondered why The Doctor had specifically asked for you; as far as you were aware, your ranking as his subordinate wasn’t anything special—merely conducting experiments and quality control were your tasks, just like all the other subordinates under his authority. Ah, you didn’t mess up anything, did you? You always always followed protocols and it wasn’t like The Doctor had previously given you an earful for messing up an experiment.
In fact, he had been nothing but full of praise towards you; there was one instance where the Harbinger gleefully praised your intellect. Although to others, he never held back on his dissatisfaction whenever a colleague of yours messed up certain experimental procedures. The Doctor always spoke to them of the importance of materials as they were not easily obtainable, and to always carefully read the protocols. Unfortunately, his rather strange bias towards you made you the butt of the jokes amongst your colleagues in cafeteria conversations, and you were more than certain they were currently laughing at you behind your back.
“Hah! She’s like a teacher’s pet but instead of a teacher it's Lord Dottore! Hahahahahaha!” One of your colleagues started right after you were told The Doctor needed you back at the laboratory.
Of course, it was all light hearted but you wished they were a bit more mature about the situation because sometimes you couldn’t help but feel . . . weird around Lord Dottore at times—especially at times where he’d lean over your shoulder to inspect your task for the day. Maybe he simply needed a closer look but the way his chest ghosted against your back had you biting the inside of your cheeks.
Stepping inside the laboratory, you were greeted with an empty space, devoid of the man you were looking for. The room was how everyone left it before heading to the cafeteria—powered equipment turned off, hazardous chemicals stored away, and several documents sprawled across counters. For a supposedly urgent matter, you expected him to be at least present in his own laboratory.
Confused, you called out, “. . Lord Dottore?”
Silence stretched for a few moments before you received a response, “I am in my office. It would be preferable if you joined me.”
At the sound of his familiar voice, you followed its origin where it led you to the slightly ajar door to his office. Your heart pounded against your chest, you’ve only been inside there once to drop off research notes because the person who usually did it was absent that day, The Doctor also wasn’t inside when you had entered previously so this was your first time in his office with him.
Something about that unnerved you. Sure, he was somewhat ‘nicer’ to you but there wasn’t denying the fact that he was an interesting individual but you were under the same organisation, so it wasn’t your place to question the Harbinger nor his motives.
As you walked inside, you quietly closed the door behind out of politeness before turning around to get on one knee and bow your head. During the brief movement, you caught a familiar tall figure standing just off to the side of The Doctor’s desk.
“Lord Dottore, Lord Regrator.” But what was he doing here?
There wasn’t much you knew about Lord Regrator other than he was the Ninth Harbinger who was in charge of economic policies in the nation.
“There’s no need for formalities. Sit. I called you here to discuss a special experiment.” Dottore gestured a gloved hand at the empty seat before his desk, the corners of his lips slightly curled.
A special experiment? At the mention of an experiment, your heart calmed a little—it was your expertise after all, so there was no point fretting over it but the strange tension in the room seemed to scream otherwise. It also didn’t explain why Regrator was present, it wasn’t like they were about to start discussing finance with you.
You nodded, standing up to quietly make your way to the empty seat, “Of course. May I ask what this experiment is about?”
As you sat down, Dottore spoke up once more, both elbows atop the wooden desk, leaning a little closer, “Recently, I have been expanding my research on the human brain and its connection to the body regarding its response to bodily sensations such as touch. I have appropriate non-invasive equipment in my personal laboratory, however, the procedure is rather . . invasive.”
Invasive? What could Dottore possibly mean by that?
“Naturally, such an experiment necessitates a suitable candidate and their willing consent.”
A participant—you assumed that was your supposed role, the reason why Dottore required your presence. Once more, your heart thrummed out of nervousness, you weren’t going to conduct an experiment, you were going to be experimented on. The mention of an invasive procedure already had your mind spinning in a million different scenarios; he wasn’t going to cut you open, was he . . ?
“Your intelligence precedes your colleagues which is why I have found you to be the suitable candidate. Of course, it all comes down to your decision but it would be a delight to have your involvement.”
You sucked in a small breath, “May I . . read over the research proposal, Lord Dottore?” He wordlessly nodded, opening a drawer on his desk before sliding a neat stack of papers over.
Written in bold letters was the title: ‘Sensory cortex activation by stimulation’
The human mind remains an imperfectly understood mechanism. This study aims to document and analyze cerebral activity in response to external stimuli such as touch and pressure in order to better identify the relations between the human brain and body. The implications of this experimental research extend beyond mere academic curiosity, a more complex understanding of neurological behaviour under euphoric conditions may provide valuable insight into artificial human enhancement procedures. Experimentation of this nature requires a fully informed and consenting participant.
Methodology: The participant will be situated within a controlled laboratory environment under my supervision to maintain consistency of neurological readings throughout the duration of the experiment. Neurological activity will be monitored and recorded through the use of neural-imaging apparatus for high resolution cerebral observation. The participant will be gradually exposed to sexual stimuli in certain body areas as follows: nipple, clitoral and vaginal (penile penetration) leading up to orgasm which is the expected peak readings.
To ensure authenticity of collected data, the participant must remain aware and capable of providing continuous informed consent during all stages of experimentation and contraception will be used. Furthermore, a second participant (assigned to Pantalone) is set to carry out sexual stimuli mentioned above and is considered a controlled variable along with the primary participant. Collected findings will subsequently be analyzed for potential applications in the fields of cognitive enhancement and artificial synchronisation of human neural patterns.
In simpler terms, Dottore wanted to observe human neural activity during a euphoric state to better understand the connection between the brain and body? In all honesty, you were speechless. Not only was the former supervising the entire experiment but Lord Regrator was also a participant, at this point you were convinced this was some kind of humiliation ritual. There was no denying that The Doctor was extremely professional when it came to research, and you were more than certain it wasn’t going to be his first time seeing a naked human body—he had even written a formal proposal which further confirms that this experiment wasn’t some kind of perverted shenanigan.
“Do I, uh—Does the experiment require the primary participant to be . . fully naked?” You feigned a cough, flipping a page as you tried your best to avoid eye contact with Dottore. Though he wore a pointed mask, you were certain his eyes remained solely on you.
“It is not a necessity. Only stated areas in the proposal are required to be exposed for efficiency. I’d also like to mention that a generous compensation will be given once the experiment concludes.”
At the mention of compensation, your ears perked up. Even though the Fatui was an influential organization in Teyvat, the pay you received was fairly enough to get by but if you were being honest, you could use a bit more mora especially with this month’s bills rolling around. Without another word, you nodded, finally looking up at the Second Harbinger.
“Alright. I will participate in the experiment, Lord Dottore.”
Beneath the pointed mask, his rosy lips stretched into a wider smile, “Excellent. I require you to sign this contract then I shall conduct a pre-experiment interview to obtain better understanding of the participant.” Reaching over the desk, he flipped over to the last page of the proposal and slid a fountain pen over, silently tapping his gloved fingers against the wooden surface as he watched you sign.
With your participation officially sealed with a signature, The Doctor carefully placed the document inside the drawer and fixed his attention on you, gloved hands loosely clasped around one another, “Are you sexually active?” His question settled into the thick silence awkwardly, it stuck out like a sore thumb—all too sudden and personal yet your commander had simply asked it as if he were asking about today’s weather.
You were aware this was part of the protocol but having Regrator present in the office seemed a bit much for you; what was he even here for? Surely, he wasn’t about to start asking you medical related questions, he didn’t even work in the field. Discomfort enveloped your warmed skin, a thousand kisses akin to small prickles—hot and itchy.
Shifting ever so slightly in your seat, you spoke, “N-No . . but I have had intercourse before.” Archons, if you were given the option between Her Majesty unleashing her unforgiving ice on you or to explain your sex life to The Doctor, without hesitation you’d pick the former. Dottore was still your boss, after all but thankfully, he was as professional as you expected, keenly listening to your reply while nodding—nothing more, nothing less. If he had any reaction to your answers, he didn’t let on.
“And when was the last time?”
God, when was the last time you had sex? You simply couldn’t remember. Being a Fatui wasn’t a walk down the park, days in The Doctor’s laboratory were long and tedious, by the time you return home late in the afternoon, you’d only have the strength to eat and wash up before welcoming the night. The routine was monotonous, yes but there wasn’t room to mope around and complain.
“I cannot accurately say but most likely a month ago.” With your boyfriend then but The Doctor didn’t need to know about your past relationship.
The Second Harbinger’s questions continued for a couple more minutes, he asked about every single medical related question you could think of—medical history, current medications, prior injuries, and existing neurological conditions. Naturally, you tried your best to answer as accurately as advised by The Doctor and each response was recorded with meticulous precision.
“Good.” The word sounded less like praise and more like a conclusion. “If at any point you wish to withdraw from the study, you will retain your right to do so.”
Silence stretched inside the cold room.
You stared at Dottore. Through his pointed mask, he stared back. Neither of you spoke as his words lingered in the icy atmosphere like wisps of smoke, light and airy yet it held a bitter taste. A beat passed, then, very slowly, one corner of his mouth curved upward.
“I assume you’re wondering whether I genuinely mean that.”
So The Doctor was aware of your growing suspicion regarding his previous statement; you knew well enough how he worked, his experimental endeavours weren’t obtained through ethical and considerate experiments, and for him to state something like that was clearly out of character. Or maybe he actually housed an ounce of decency in him.
“Pardon my brazenness but yes, a little.”
The smile on his lips widened, “Reasonable.”
“Coerced participation produces unreliable results, especially neurological results.”
It wasn’t concern nor ethics but merely data quality, you didn’t know whether to applaud him for being such a dedicated scholar. Surprisingly, his reasoning was sound, emotions can and will affect neurological scans; factors such as stress can create physiological ‘noise’ which would increase variability in data.
At the lack of your reply, The Doctor merely dismissed your silence as acknowledgement and spoke up once more, “As you’re already aware, this study requires two participants. The reliability of the data is dependent upon minimising external variables and, unfamiliarity constitutes as such.”
“In other words, you’re making us socialize.” Lord Regrator finally spoke up, his dulcet voice curling around your body like a serpentine predator.
Well, it wasn’t entirely odd to familiarise oneself with a fellow study participant, especially if intimacy was on the table but the whole situation felt rather awkward. Under more casual circumstances, you’d feel at ease but being confined in your commander’s office with another Harbinger felt nothing but forced; you felt nothing less than a puppet being forced to interact with another toy at the hands of a naïve child.
“Call it whatever you prefer. Participants exhibit measurably different neurological responses when interacting with unfamiliar individuals.” A gloved finger tapped the wooden desk, “Trust levels, social comfort, perceived predictability—they all introduce inconsistencies. Unless, of course, you want me to find another willing participant. After all, you do have the right to withdraw from the study, Pantalone.”
Hidden beneath Dottore’s words was provocation but to Pantalone, the taunt was clear as day. From where he stood, he could see the way the former’s lips curled into a smug smile—a silent challenge between both of them. But Regrator didn’t bite, no, instead, he shifted his attention toward you.
“Well.” He smiled pleasantly, “It seems we’ve been assigned homework. If Dottore wishes us to become familiar with one another, I suppose introductions are in order.”
Satisfied that events were proceeding according to plan, the Second Harbinger immediately returned to his notes. Lord Regrator watched his companion for a brief moment, “He’s actually taking notes. How amusing.” A gentle laugh escaped his lips, he moved a tad closer to get a better view and the scent of tobacco faintly invaded your senses.
For the next hour, conversation between you and Regrator drifted from formal introductions to declassified Fatui affairs to Snezhnayan politics, and for the entirety of it, Dottore wordlessly sat in his seat, taking notes of everything. The conversation started off stiff as expected—Pantalone may be a participant but he was still a Harbinger, and with it came formality but as words flowed, you eased slightly. You learned about his role as a high ranking Fatuus and despite your lack of interest in his field, you simply nodded along.
Lord Regrator differed from Lord Dottore, and whether that observation was positive or not, you were uncertain. Different in a way that the former was clearly built for conversations, he gave flattery when needed, smiled at your words, and gave colourful responses; you assumed he obtained his mannerisms through his role but even with his authority, he was easier to converse with.
“Alright, that is all for today. I shall require both your presence next week once I have the appropriate equipment set up.”
With that, you excused yourself first and headed back to the cafeteria with a racing heart. On the way over, you questioned whether what you were getting yourself into was something you’d regret in the future but all your mind could think about was the coming week. The mere idea of Lord Regrator intimately touching you shouldn’t have invited heat between your legs but with every step taken closer to the cafeteria, the more it grew. It didn’t help how obscene visuals of you and him flashed in your mind every second or so.
The new week rolled around with slight anticipation; it was embarrassing, really, the slight excitement buried in the depths of your core pulsing with expectation. It was weird to anticipate such an erotic experiment but pure lust fogged your mind primarily due to the fact that you simply haven’t had sex in a month. Weeks of pent up stress and emotions? You were definitely overdue for release. Though, you did have to constantly remind yourself that it was a formal study within a controlled environment, and not some kind of one night stand with your commander’s colleague.
“I trust you’re both well rested?”
The three of you were back inside The Doctor’s office, it was late afternoon, the warm glow of the sun spilled through the frostbitten windows, painting the rather dull room in a mellow hue. The rest of your colleagues had already left the laboratory which meant you, along with the two Harbingers were the only ones present. It made you a little nervous—being alone in a room with two of Snezhnaya’s influential individuals.
Pantalone hummed and you replied with a small nod, already feeling your skin starting to prick.
Dottore led you both into another room connected to his office, it wasn’t as vast and you assumed this was strictly out of bounds to everyone but him. The room felt unnervingly sterile, its walls were constructed from smooth metal panels with narrow seams, and bright white lighting illuminated the space.
At the centre of the room stood the experiment’s primary apparatus—a reclining examination chair surrounded by an intricate arrangement of cables, a machine, and polished metallic arms suspended from the ceiling. The most striking feature of the room was the wall opposite the entrance—a single pane of reinforced observation glass stretched nearly from floor to ceiling; beyond the glass you assumed was the control room, housing machinery responsible for operating the experiment.
“For the entire duration of the experiment, I shall remain inside the control room to oversee the study and note down all results. Remove any unnecessary layers of clothing such as overcoats and gloves, and meet me by the apparatus.”
Left in your blouse and pants, you headed to the center of the room where Dottore stood with Pantalone just a step behind. The former tinkered around the apparatus, pressing a few buttons and flipping switches with a gloved finger, causing the machine to whirr to life; it hummed a low, almost quiet tune that somewhat settled your nerves.
“Lie down.”
The Doctor looked over his feathered shoulder, pointed mask gleaming beneath the harsh lighting before turning his attention to the suspended metallic arms for inspection. You did as you were told, positioning the entirety of your body along the examination chair, the leather was cool against the fabric of your clothes which left tiny goosebumps from the difference in temperature. Wordlessly, you watched as he positioned the metallic arms near your head, several inches away from contact; its tips were equipped with a semi-circle that encased your head. So, this was what The Doctor meant about non-invasive equipment.
“Once I operate the machine, you may feel a slight sensation but do not fret, it is simply the apparatus emitting pulses of energy to record neural activity. And as for you, I require complete obedience—every single word.”
“Hah, you act as if I’m some kind of disobedient mutt. I’m wounded.” Regrator pressed a hand over his chest, a mocking smile directed at his colleague.
The latter didn’t bother replying and instead walked off to the control room, the soles of his boots clicking with every calculated step. Pantalone softly shook his head, muttering a faint “Lovely as ever.” beneath his breath, full of sarcasm.
“Any command given will be spoken through this intercom.”
Your attention quickly moved from Regrator to the mounted speakers on the corners of the room as Dottore’s amplified voice filled the space. Gaze darting over to the foot of the examination chair, just past the Ninth Harbinger’s torso, you watched your commander on the other side of the observation glass. Heat warmed your cheeks at the realisation that you directly faced the latter which meant he’d be able to see everything you exposed.
“Base readings first. In the meantime, Pantalone, I trust you have already taken the concoction I made prior?”
With the metallic arms whirring to life, you could barely hear The Doctor’s words over the pulsing of the machine. Just as he mentioned, there was a slight foreign sensation in your head, it felt like pressure but also not at the same time, though, it wasn’t painful. You could only watch as the two conversed over the observation glass.
“Indeed.” Regrator nodded.
Two days ago, Dottore had given him a curated substance meant to increase one’s libido, thus concentrating blood flow to the genitalia. He had no qualms consuming it but it was foreign, indeed, he had never taken such a drug before and it took all his willpower not to take you right then and there. It didn’t help how his semi-hardened cock twitched inside his pants, involuntarily rubbing against the fabric of his underwear.
Dottore jotted down a few notes as the monitors displayed your real-time cerebral activity; so far, everything looked good, “Commencing the first phase of the experiment: nipple stimulation. Duration: 30 seconds. For the entire duration—without stopping—the nipples are to be stimulated via gently pinching or twisting.”
Thirty seconds didn’t seem too long, right? With that, you slightly lifted yourself off the examination chair, bringing your blouse over your chest before attempting to unclip your brassiere. Seeing your struggle, Pantalone brought himself closer, a faint whiff of tobacco following, “May I?”
Despite his chivalrous offer, his amethyst gaze kept darting at your clothed breasts and the smoothness of your skin—he knew it was impolite to do so but being under the influence of Dottore’s concoction had him acting a tad out of character. He cleared his throat as his cock twitched at the sight before him, swallowing down the low moan he almost let out. Could you really blame him? The garment was a black lace adorned with intricate patterns, not to mention the fabric being slightly see-through—a feature he found rather brazen. Pantalone could almost assume you wore this specific garment today for him to see. And maybe for your commander, as well.
“Thank you . .” You nodded and allowed Regrator to help.
“Pardon the intrusion.” He laced an arm through the narrow space between your back and the chair, lithe fingers expertly unclasping your brassiere with one hand.
Your heart may or may not have skipped a beat.
In one swift movement, the garment loosened around your torso, threatening to slip off. With slight hesitation and a burning face, you removed the fabric and shyly placed it on the chair right by your thigh. Almost immediately, icy air kissed your warmed skin which caused your nipples to harden, a small hiss almost slipping past your lips. While you were occupied with embarrassment, Pantalone’s gaze traced the curves of your chest, each mound sinfully beckoning his large hands—maybe even his mouth too. Obviously, it wasn’t his first seeing a naked woman but how his mind reeled with selfish fantasies was beyond childish.
In the control room, Dottore was unfazed—he had seen many nude bodies before and yours weren’t any different. It was nothing special, really but your cerebral activity on the other hand . . . That was more interesting.
“Whenever you’re ready.” He spoke into the intercom.
“I’ll be starting now, Miss.” Regrator sat on the narrow space of the chair, his clothed thigh brushing against your own; you tried not to think of the warmth which radiated from his body or how your name effortlessly rolled off his tongue like it was meant to be.
A silent nod was all you could muster—not even a split second eye contact to acknowledge his presence out of politeness but from the looks of it, Regrator didn’t mind at all as he proceeded to bring both hands up to your chest. If only you’d look his way you’d see a shy hue of crimson dusting his pale cheeks and ears but alas, your gaze fixated on the ceiling above.
A small yelp forced its way past your lips; Regrator used both index fingers to gently trace your areolas a couple of times, mere centimetres shy from your pebbled nipples, the tips of his fingers were cold—not icy but enough to send a strong shiver down your spine. You missed the way the corners of his lips subtly curled upwards in utter amusement—who would’ve thought Dottore’s lovely subordinate hid quite melodious tunes? There was no doubt his Harbinger colleague thought of the same thing.
As a matter of fact, despite being behind an observation glass, Dottore heard the sound you made all too clearly. The door to the control room was slightly ajar which caused any noise—minute or not—to spill through. It wasn’t foreign for his experimental subjects to create any noise but today differed, what was usually tunes of pain turned into hums of pleasure, and he couldn’t decide between the two which he preferred.
Maybe, just maybe by a tad bit—from how his core twisted with delight—it was probably the latter.
But Dottore had no room to ponder over that, not when your neurological activity displayed exquisite images on his monitor. As expected, a small cluster of highlights illuminated the somatosensory cortex which indicated its activation; he quickly jotted down notes, eyes trained on the screen before him, trying not to let your saccharine noises get to his head.
Another twitch of his now fully hardened cock had him letting out a low groan beneath his shaky breaths. The sight before him was simply exquisite; Pantalone may not have the best eyesight but he didn’t need a perfect vision to deduce the divine beauty—breasts splayed flat, torso arching ever so slightly, your head turned to the side, bottom lip tucked between your teeth, and brows furrowed in embarrassment.
Oh, what a shy little thing you were.
“Lord R-Regrator—!” He gently pinched your nipples which spread a sharp, quick shock across your chest. Another arch of your back pressed your skin closer to Regrator’s digits, he experimented with a slight twist, turning them between his index fingers and thumbs.
Archons, how embarrassing! You tried. You truly tried to hold back any unwanted sounds but the Lord Harbinger seemed to know what he was doing—how to please a woman—you couldn’t help but moan out his name from how amazing his hands felt against your feverish skin. Save for the low hum of machinery, the room was filled with complete silence and any noise made stuck out like crimson ink on a blank ivory canvas.
“Do let me know if my actions hurt you at some point.” Pantalone mindlessly murmured, mind completely fogged with lust, and senses drowned in your muffled moans.
You finally looked up at him through glassy eyes and wet lashes, it didn’t help how the bright lights above drew sparkles in your irises. He almost missed the wordless nod you responded with, too focused on the growing haze painted on your face. As Regrator continued his stimulation, shallow pants filled the space above your face and by this point, your face was as warm as it could get. Occasionally, your body shuddered beneath his expert touch, slowly and steadily driving you over the edge as each second passed.
Before another embarrassing moan could spill from your lips, The Doctor’s voice flooded the room via intercom, “First phase has concluded. Moving on to the second phase: clitoral stimulation. Duration: 30 seconds. As previously mentioned, stimulation has to be continuous for the entire duration.”
Even though embarrassment had slightly subsided, you hesitantly reached for the button of your pants, undoing them with trembling hands. Once more, the Ninth Harbinger offered assistance to which you thankfully accepted—there was no reason getting shy now, he had already played with your nipples earlier. Driving the soles of your shoes onto the cushioned examination chair, you lifted your hips and pulled your pants down along with your underwear with the Harbinger’s help—just enough to expose your cunt.
His eyes zeroed in on your glistening entrance. All for him? Oh, he was being spoiled, indeed. The sight of your cunt fanned the blazing flames of Pantalone’s ego—all this just from mere nipple play? How adorable. You must’ve been really touch starved.
“Before we commence the second phase, Pantalone, I trust you can find the clitoris, right? Perhaps you need my assistance?”
“I am not ignorant, Dottore.”
“I am simply making sure. No reason to get snappy.”
You wanted to laugh. Two Harbingers bickering should not have amused you but the pettiness behind your commander’s voice and the slight annoyance laced with Lord Regrator’s words was all too amusing. If you were to tell a fellow colleague about them two bickering whether one could find the clitoris or not, they would not believe a single word that’d come out of your mouth. Who knew they could talk about trivial matters, too, how interesting.
Lord Regrator returned his rightful attention to you, his dull expression immediately shifted into the soft smile he always wore, “Ready, Miss?” Meek, you nodded. The Harbinger repositioned himself, right knee slotted between your parted legs to get a better view of your wet cunt.
He gathered the slick coating your cunt, spreading it on the pads of his fingers before pushing back your clitoral hood to reveal the swollen nub of flesh all in its needy glory. Embarrassingly enough, a simple ghostly touch on your clitoris had your entire body jerking against the leather of the chair, followed by a wanton moan of the Harbinger’s title. You quickly turned your head to the side and pressed the skin of your forearm against your lips—a futile attempt as the moment you obstructed your face, Lord Regrator’s digit began rubbing your clitoris in tight circles, as though a wordless protest against muffling the sounds you made.
His fingers were good—amazing, even, to the point where you wished thirty seconds went as quickly as a single second. In your head, clitoral stimulation of that duration was doable but you wholly underestimated yourself and the Lord Harbinger’s skills, on top of that, you were still trying to recover from earlier. You weren’t supposed to orgasm on this phase of the experiment otherwise it would ruin it entirely but it seemed like he had a goal: to drive you over the edge before the thirty seconds were up.
“L-Lord Regrator, I think—Mhm!”
“Hm? Were you saying something?”
The arm slung over your face immediately flew downwards to grasp his wrist, attempting to slow down his actions. Your free hand gripped on the side of the examination chair, nails digging crescents into the leather to ground and steer yourself from the impending orgasm. You arched your back and moaned aloud once more, earning a satisfied smile from the Lord Harbinger.
Dottore’s gaze ripped away from the monitors and landed at the centre of the room where you and Pantalone where, he carefully watched as your body pathetically writhed under the latter’s eager touch. He could barely see your lust-bitten face but judging from the moans you let out, his friend was doing exceptionally well at pleasing you—even the activity displayed on the monitors could back that fact; more regions of the brain were now highlighted indicating an increase in activity,
It was indeed fascinating to observe how one’s brain lit up from mere stimulation.
The tune of shallow, soft pants filled Regrator’s ears, it was amusing to watch you scramble and gather the threads of sanity in your palms, refusing to let pleasure take control of your body. Did he feel bad? A little but he was no saint. He switched from tight circles to figure eights, pressing onto your sensitive nub with a little more pressure. Your legs shook with bliss, fingers wrapped around his wrist tightening as you teetered to the brink of an orgasm.
“Ngh—ah! Lord Re—Haah!”
“I suggest you use your words otherwise I cannot understand you.” Mockery laced his dulcet voice but with the hum of machinery mixed with your shameless moans, you didn’t pick up on it.
When did Pantalone last have fun like this? Sure, he was powerful enough to control the nation’s economic state with a mere snap of his fingers but being able to control the pleasure you felt? Beyond satisfying. Not only was he rewarded with your lust-fogged expressions but also how your body squirmed beneath his touch—desperate and pathetic.
Your core tightened, it stretched and stretched further waiting for the recoil called climax but before you could reach it, your commander’s cold voice filled the room once more, “Second phase has concluded. We’ll be moving on to the final phase after a short interval.”
With that, Regrator pulled away his hand which elicited an embarrassing whine of protest from you. In a daze, you stared up at the ceiling and silently thanked Lord Dottore for the short interval because you knew well enough you’d be a complete mess once the third phase began. Though, the Second Harbinger’s reasoning was most certainly experiment-related rather than pure concern for the subject.
The tight knot deep in your core disappointingly dissipated as each second passed without stimulation—it was beyond frustrating to say the least, especially after weeks without sex. Despite the cool air inside, a sheen of sweat lightly coated your entire body and you felt stuffy; suddenly, the fabric pulled halfway down your legs felt too restricting, the blouse pooled around your neck didn’t help either. At this point, you just wanted one thing, and judging by the crimson blush on Lord Regrator’s cheeks, he wanted it too—release.
Dottore simply wasn’t being nice with the interval, the main reason for it was to let your cerebral activity return to baseline, otherwise readings from the second phase would carry on to the third phase and mess with the experiment. But he did have a more selfish reason that didn’t need disclosing—the growing tent between his legs.
He only needed a few moments to recollect himself. His bodily response to the scene before him was normal—he was still a man, after all— but in a professional setting, it was undesirable. Dottore knew what he was getting into when he first wrote the proposal for this serendipitous experiment but he didn’t expect to be aroused by it. He leaned back in his seat, a subtle glance at the prominent bulge before letting out a soft sigh.
How truly inconvenient.
After a couple moments of recollecting himself—or simply trying to—Dottore spoke into the intercom to commence the final phase, “The third will be slightly different, there will be no set duration as the end goal of this phase is an orgasm but restrictions will be in order. That means strictly no touching aside from vaginal penetration, this would count as kissing, groping or holding one another. Doing so would interfere with results.”
Since Dottore observed the sensory cortex, other forms of stimulation besides penetration would also be recorded, lowering authenticity of the results.
“Contraception is located above the machinery.” He added.
Pantalone reached for the smooth surface of the machinery next to the examination chair where he grabbed a sealed packet. Lithe fingers curled around the waistband of his pants, you watched as he unbuttoned and pulled it down just enough to reveal his hardened, leaking cock. It slapped against his clothed abdomen, donning a crimson blush that mirrored the hues on his pale cheeks. The pearlescent glob of pre-cum coating his slit had you salivating a little, tongue subtly swiping over your bottom lip.
Wide eyed and lips slightly parted, you could only wordlessly stare at the foreign sight before you, he was decently thick and merely looking at it had you clenching around nothing—eager to have all of the Lord Harbinger inside you.
Pantalone let out a low hiss, expertly rolling the latex down his shaft, “Ready?” Amethyst eyes clouded with lust found your gaze. Lord Regrator’s expression was different from what he usually wore, the cunning, unreadable smile was gone, leaving room for a flustered one.
With a wordless nod from you, the Harbinger fully situated himself between your legs, both hands each circling around the back of your knees to push them to your bare chest, “Hold your legs open for me, will you, dear?” You did as you were told, hooking an arm on each knee, keeping your legs in place and eagerly waiting for his next move.
Knees digging on leather, Pantalone placed a hand on the wide headrest of the chair while the other curled around his base, slowly guiding his cock inside your sopping entrance. A mix of your moans lingered in the air as he bottomed out, the entirety of his shaft sat inside you—heavy and hard. The stretch was delicious, it almost felt purely sinful, you’ve never taken a cock that stretched you this good before and it was dangerous because you might just get addicted to it.
Pantalone leaned over you, free hand now joining the other on holding the headrest. The silvery chain of his glasses dangled mere centimetres from your face, teasing and ghosting over your feverish skin. He sat still for a moment to relish inside your tight, velvety walls, he felt like a boyish virgin all over again with how stimulated he was, and he hasn’t even started thrusting yet.
But Pantalone had a job to do: to bring you to an orgasm because that’s what he agreed to upon signing the contract of this study—to put your pleasure before his own.
A beat or two passed ‘til he slowly drew his hips back—with only the bulbous tip remaining inside—and languidly thrusted, your nails dug into your soft skin, leaving small crescent-shaped indents. You could really only hold on to your legs and take the steady yet forceful pace Lord Regrator had set which caused your body to jolt repeatedly with every smack of his hips against your own.
It was pure torture for Pantalone, you looked absolutely divine yet he wasn’t allowed to hold you—to grope and squeeze at your bouncing breasts, to rub at your clit, to suck on every part of your exposed skin and finally taste you for himself. Alas, he could only rake his gaze up and down your semi-naked form and fantasize how you’d react beneath his palms.
The examination chair groaned underneath the weight of Pantalone’s thrusts, high pitched squeaks interlaced with the string of moans and whimpers filling the entire space. Pantalone carefully shifted his weight to his upper body, anchoring his hands on the headrest to piston his hips into your own.
“O-Oh, god! Lord Regrator!”
“God? H-Haah! Ngh—‘M no god, my dear.”
Bitterness laced his trembling words, it's almost as though he took offense and now he expressed his disdain by merely picking up the pace, rendering you a babbling mess to shut you up. Skin slapping and the smell of sex dangerously danced in the air, one Dottore couldn’t simply ignore—especially the former.
The Second Harbinger messily jotted down notes, fingers tightening around the pen every now and then whenever you let out a loud moan. He didn’t stop his gaze from wandering to where you and Pantalone were, crimson gaze locked onto your jolting form while his friend eagerly pounded you like a starved man. How your legs vigorously bounced in the air was enough to let him know how roughly Pantalone went on you.
The problem between his legs worsened and Dottore may or may not have rubbed his hard on a few times beneath the desk. Just to get a small taste of friction his hardened cock desperately wanted. Childish? Perhaps but fuck he would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of trading places with Pantalone—even for a mere second or two. He was more than curious what you’d feel like around him.
“Lord Regrator! I’m—aah! I’m close—ngh!” Legs burning from holding the position, you let go and opted to wrap them around the Harbinger’s waist, locking him in a rather intimate distance. Pantalone let out a breathless chuckle and changed his pace into deep, short thrusts, he grinded into you every few strokes or so, allowing you to see the stars.
A few more sharp thrusts and the knot inside your stomach snapped violently as pure bliss engulfed the entirety of your body. Pantalone, unable to move due to your legs tightening around him, sheathed his cock deep inside and grinded on you, his fat tip rubbing against your sweet, sweet spot. He watched your limp body convulsed beneath him as shocks of pleasure came crashing into you.
He followed suit, spilling his warm seed into the latex while relishing in the tightness of your walls, a loud grunt forced from his rosy lips.
The two of you stayed still for a moment, individuals merely reduced to a heaving mess as the fog of orgasm slowly dissipated from your bodies. As if on cue, Dottore spoke through the intercom,
“The final phase of the study has concluded. Your cooperation is appreciated.”
A breathless laugh from the Harbinger above you, “I sure hope you managed to collect ample findings, Dottore.”
The latter could only scoff, of course he was able to do so. As opposed to his hypothesis—where he had only hypothesized two regions would be active—a handful of regions were active during an orgasm. It gave him a better understanding of how to map the human brain.
At the latter’s silence, Pantalone spoke once more, “Though, I am rather curious,” He let out a small hiss while pulling out. “Why did you need a second participant? Surely you’re more than capable of executing this task yourself, no? Unless . .”
“Unless what?”
“Unless you simply can’t do it.” To please a woman, he wanted to add.
There was only one way to interpret the Ninth’s words and despite it being ‘friendly’ banter, annoyance bubbled in Dottore’s chest, “Obviously, I would need to record findings hence my lack of participation in the study. But if you ask me, I would have done a better job.”
“Really?”
Silence followed.
Solely due to their brief exchange—or was argument a better word?—you found yourself sandwiched between Lord Dottore and Lord Regrator; every article of your clothing long discarded on the cold tiles, and machinery turned off, long forgotten. With the former laying on the examination chair, you straddled him, trembling legs on either side of his waist while the other Harbinger pressed his clothed chest against your back.
“Lord Dottore . .” You bit your lip.
In a haste, he had unzipped his pants and pulled out his leaking cock, rubbing the bare tip up and down your sensitive slit. Behind you, Pantalone’s hands mindlessly wandered all over your naked form—from the plush of your breasts to the fat of your ass, he left no skin untouched. But it wasn’t his hands alone, his lips trailed open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, leaving a few small bites in between.
Pantalone gently ushered you forward, one hand splayed across your back to bring you closer to Dottore ‘til your breasts squished against the latter’s chest. Both Harbingers lined their cocks to your entrances and slowly pushed inside. Slumped against the Second, you trembled violently as they stretched your holes out—one wrong move and you were sure to come undone.
With both cocks fully sheathed inside, all you could do at that point was pant like a mere mutt in heat, you haven’t had proper time to come down from your previous orgasm so any form of stimulation quite literally melted your brain and brought tears to your eyes.
Dottore cupped your jaw with a large, gloved hand and angled your face, he examined your fucked out expression momentarily before closing the distance. Messy and desperate, the Lord Harbinger’s kiss simply knocked oxygen from your lungs, he eagerly plunged his tongue past your lips and explored the inside of your mouth.
The kiss and the sting of his pointed mask digging into your cheek was enough to briefly distract you from their experimental thrusts. Shameless, you wailed into your commander’s mouth, knuckles turning into a lovely shade of ivory as you gripped the collar of his coat.
The examination chair groaned beneath the weight of the Harbingers’ merciless thrusts and one could only hope it was sturdy enough to last an entire round. Creaks of the chair mixed with the sinful harmony of your moans filled all four corners of the room, thankfully this space was a bit more secluded in comparison to your commander’s laboratory which meant anyone else walking down the corridors wouldn’t be able to hear the lewd sounds as much.
Despite the eagerness behind their thrusts, it was certainly surprising to have their movements coordinate with one another—an unspoken rhythm with the sole purpose of bringing you and themselves to release.
Dottore pulled away to catch his breath, leaving a thin translucent string of saliva connecting his kiss-bitten lips to your own, hot breaths mingling together through rough pants. The corner of the Harbinger’s lips curled upwards upon seeing your drunken expression—who knew you looked utterly divine stuffed with two cocks? It made him twitch.
Pantalone’s gaze fixated on your lower half—how your ass bounced and jolted with every powerful thrust he gave. The mere sight of his wet cock appearing and disappearing between the globes of your ass had him heaving a little harder. Maybe it was also due to the tightness of your rear, or the fact that having another cock inside you intensified the pleasurable friction he felt.
A few more harsh thrusts, the coil inside you finally snapped once more, bringing you to a rather earth shattering orgasm. Your body violently trembled in pure bliss as you tried to moan their names to no avail. With the sensation being too much, you fisted Dottore’s clothed chest as if doing so would somewhat ease the pleasurable pain your entire body felt.
The Second soon followed suit, a couple of desperate thrusts into your sopping cunt—ones that had you wailing in overstimulation—before sheathing himself deep inside and releasing thick, warm ribbons of cum. A string of colourful curses in his mother tongue slipped past his kiss-bitten lips as he came inside. Dottore filled you all the way to the brim ‘til his seed slowly seeped out of your greedy hole and onto the leather cushion beneath.
Ah, he’d have to get it cleaned now.
This left Pantalone who greedily hauled your limp body against his chest; one hand expertly rubbed your swollen clit while the other held your jaw to angle your face upwards so he could plunge his tongue inside your mouth. You choked on the messy kiss as the new angle invited him deeper inside. Dottore’s cock slipped out from the change in position but he didn’t mind, instead, he sat up and took it upon himself to plunge two long digits in your cunt.
His fingers were already long enough to reach far but the added thickness of his gloves had you arching your back. If it wasn’t for Lord Regrator’s firm hold, you would’ve already been slumped against the chair long ago. The former’s fingers moved in a ‘come hither’ motion which allowed him to brush against your sweet spot. Surely you could handle another one, right?
“Oh—hng! Close! Ah—haah!” Hands flew down to circle around Dottore’s wrist, you attempted to pathetically remove his fingers from your cunt which shortly proved futile as he remained unmoved.
You came once more, another blinding orgasm ripping through your orgasm but this time, you could barely even muster a whimper—only a soundless cry and fresh tears streaming down your face. Pantalone grunted and bit your shoulder as orgasm hit him, hot cum painting the walls of your rear; he grinded his hips against your ass to ride out his orgasm before releasing your skin from his bite.
Nothing but the sound of harsh breathing filled the walls and for a long moment, the three of you remained still to catch your breaths with reality slowly seeping in to replace what was once lust. You wanted to sleep right then and there, exhaustion weighed heavy on your body from how hard they both worked you—too tired to even think of the consequences.
None of this was supposed to happen—at least not the unexpected threesome but now that both Harbingers have had a taste of you, they might just come back for seconds.
; pre-release snezhnaya bite-sized light yan drabbles, yandere but some of them are implied at best, we know nearly nothing of them rn so OOC is bound to happen, not proofread,
LOVE IS OBSESSIVE. (ANASTASYA )
A thin layer of frost has formed over closed, glass-pane windows, obscuring the otherwise perfect view you’d have of Snezhnograd down below. Now all you see are blurry blobs of color that vaguely resemble buildings if you squint. Residing at the highest floor in the Zapolyarny palace, nothing here serves as entertainment, not even sightseeing.
It’s cold too. Unbearably cold. An unsettling chill that comes and goes, peaks and subsides when she personally visits you. Unfortunate that she invades your room often, gently closing the door behind her all to ensure that no one else, not even a passing guard, will be privy to her intimate conversations with you. Poised upright like the embodiment of elegance that she is, Anastasya sits down at the foot of your bed and gives you a small smile – a considered rarity among her subjects.
How are you today? Have you been faring well in her absence? Did you miss her? Basic conversational questions are asked, and after you answer (no matter how lacking they may come off, she’s satisfied just to see you in the flesh), she starts sharing anecdotes about herself. Today, the Fatui did this, her harbingers had a minor disagreement, Pierro advised her to act on a particular issue, and the Belyi Tsar’s grave has been tended to by yours truly.
You nod accordingly – that all seems interesting, Anastasya – a built-in response picked up after years of such routine. When the topics of conversation dry up like a well, she will unglove her ice-cold hand to feel your exposed skin. You become used to the chill that you no longer flinch; it’s hard to be bothered anymore.
She savors her moments with you and immortalizes such transient minutes through the very ice she controls. To preserve and cherish every moment with you is one of the simplest pleasures in her life. The moment she’s needed to step back into her role of being Snezhnaya’s ruler, she leaves whisps of snowflakes that gently caress your cheek; her own form of a goodbye kiss.
You’re not her spouse, nor is she your wife. But she promises day and night for the past 500 agonizing years that the moment she seizes authority from the heavenly principles, you two will finally be wed and shall be marked as the first monumental event in the new world.
That child, too, will come back. And you’ll all be a happy family.
Until then, you are encased in a room only she has access to in the name of love.
LOVE IS CONJUGAL. (VALERIY)
“Major Valeriy will be displeased to learn you lost your wedding ring. Fret not, I will find it for you, my grace.”
His Oprichnik subordinate quickly gets on his hands and knees to begin a fruitless search while you watch him scramble around from the sofa. Leisurely leaning back with a cold drink in your hand, you know it’s not nice to torment a faultless person, but all your anger must be vented somewhere even at the cost of an unfortunate Oprichnik. You’ve grown to be selfish in that sense - it’s an undesirable trait nursed by your husband’s weirdly coddling attitude. His fault. Entirely his fault.
You intended to watch this stranger run around like a headless Volkodlak fae for a little while longer, just enough to bring him to tears behind that mask when heavy, thudding footsteps enter the room. The Oprichnik quickly stands at attention, bowing a perfect ninety degrees to whom you need not guess. Your husband, Valeriy, is here. Rolling your eyes over to his, you note that his obsidian hair is powdered in snow with his cape nowhere to be found, nose is a bit red too. You hold in a grin – an avalanche most likely caught him. Serves him right.
It falls just as quickly when a familiar ring glints from the chandelier. A bemused glint appears in his eyes at your bewildered stare.
“How did you–?” You threw that wedding ring out of the window. You know it, saw it become lost in the snow. Yet he–
“I did a little digging.” He strides up to you before kneeling down. He extends out an expecting hand to which you reluctantly give. Gently and reverently, he slides the ring back on your wedding finger, smiling in content when he does so. “Be careful next time.”
LOVE IS COURTSHIP. (ALYOSHA)
You have a peculiar companion who walks you home at night. You don’t know him, his face, or his name, but you know his voice and shadow. He always follows just a couple of steps behind you with his footsteps lagging a second behind before hiding behind barrels and buildings when you turn around. You’d think you’re hallucinating had it not been for the proof standing outside your home.
Swallowed by shadows, you see only his vague silhouette. A fur-lined hood with horns protruding, you think, average height – the only visuals he presents to you. On brave occasions, you’d call out with a stutter,
“W-why are you following me?”
His answer and the voice you hear are both hauntings dredged up from your nightmares: “Because I love you.”
Morning comes and the result is the same. You open your door, ready to head off to work before being stopped by a carcass left at your doormat. It stains the textile with blood – you’ll have to buy a new one after you finish your shift. With a shudder, you drag the dead animal inside, cringing at the trail it leaves behind.
At work, you ask your boss about it, fed up with the horrors you’re forced to live through. To which she tilts her head and smiles, “That means he’s courting you. I know you’re from overseas, but that’s how it is here in Snezhnaya!”
“I… What?”
She laughs, “It’s the land of love. Who isn’t willing to do everything for love around here?”
You better get used to it.
LOVE IS INFATUATION. (VODYANITSA)
“Seriously, another ticket to her show? You’re not rigging the system, are you?” Your Co-patroller jabs an accusing finger at your golden ticket. Lord Harbinger Pantalone would have your heads for slacking off on the job by talking about Primadonna singer Vodyanitsa, but your excitement cannot be contained for a moment longer. He’s not around to personally survey the Fatui agents in the area, fortunately. You’re free to parade your golden ticket around – proudly so.
“I didn’t buy it!” You hug the ticket close to your chest, daydreaming about seeing your beloved singer on stage once more, “My pen pal did!”
“Pen pal? You mean, what was it again— Sirensong?”
You smile, “Yeah. She’s also a big fan of Miss Vodyanitsa. I told her she didn’t need to buy me tickets every time, but she insists–”
“--and you’re too much of a freeloader to actually stop her.” Your co-patroller gravely nods, looking away from you, “Got it. I already know what type of person you actually are, we’re both Fatui runts at the end of the day.”
“Stop being mean to me, you’re just jealous.” You wave the ticket around their masked face. “Does it keep you up at night? Knowing you only saw her in-person once? Don’t worry friend, I’ll enjoy in your stead.”
“Whatever, whatever,” They roll their eyes before snapping back to yours, “Wait. Don’t you find it weird?”
“Weird?” You parrot.
“Yeah. How come she doesn’t attend the shows herself? Your pen pal, I mean.”
“She said she’s limited to her home. It’s why we’re pen pals…?”
They don’t look convinced. On the contrary, they’re growing more suspicious.
“Really now? But tickets are sold onsite in the opera house days prior to the show.”
“She probably has servants. I wouldn’t be surprised – she’s able to afford the tickets!”
“...Can I see your ticket?”
You frown, “You’re not going to steal it and run off, are you?”
You receive a playful whack on the head as rebuttal, “Stop talking nonsense, I still need to earn money for my sister! I just need to see the code and seat number.”
“Okay…?”
Their face changes in real time once they get hold of your ticket. Observing, confused, and finally… Understanding?
“What did you see?”
“A VIP ticket. I get it now.”
They pick up their gun and resume patrol, leaving you in the dark.
“What? What do you get?”
“Only the harbingers get VIP tickets, you know.”
“...Are you implying I’m a harbinger? I’m not.”
They shake their head, sighing.
“No, I’m implying that the only way you can get those tickets is if the giver was one of the opera organizers or…
Miss Vodyanitsa herself.”
LOVE IS ENVY. (ODETTE)
“You’re late.”
It’s a pain to work with Odette. Talented and skilled she may be in the art of ballet, her punctuality remains as something she must work on. She always arrives late to rehearsals, sometimes completely missing them, only to perform just fine on the grand day itself. You didn’t know what went on in her life to always miss the appointed time, nor did you bother to care. She was wasting yours.
But after catching her cleaning up a dead body one night after rehearsals, face splotched with a knowing red and dagger situated inches away from her on the ground, you now know everything there is to her. Agreeing to a truce, you negotiated for rehearsals to be limited to the two main stars while the rest of the cast practiced at a different time.
Only so she can do her business in peace thus avoiding her tendency to be late. It worked for a while, but as of right now… looking her up and down, maybe she just has a serious problem with time awareness.
“I said… You’re late. Did you not hear me, Odette?”
She nods a beat after, “I’m sorry.”
You turn away to start packing your bag, “What am I supposed to do with that? I don’t want your apology, what I want is for you to stop wasting my time. I get you’re busy with your… side assassin work, but keep me in mind, too.”
“I do.” She hurried to assure, “I keep you in mind every day.”
“Odd. It doesn’t feel that way.”
The ballet studio feels especially colder today.
You’re nearing the exit when she finally unveils like the ribbons of your ballet shoes.
“I got jealous.”
Her admission freezes you in place. “What?”
“So I… took care of him. I’ll control myself better next time. Keep rehearsing with me.”
LOVE IS AN ADDICTION. (NOY)
You know your place and your cue.
A knock on your wooden door means it’s a house servant because Lord Noy himself enters without permission. With that knock comes a set of responsibilities expected from you. Once means that you must pick out the ribbon the lord will wear in his hair for the day. Twice means you must sleep in his bed that night.
And thrice means… the lord needs another supply of your blood. Merely three days after his last feeding session, and already he’s asking for more. You grit your teeth before ultimately abandoning your journal to open the door, your smile is inauthentic, so too is the house servant’s.
“Please inform Lord Noy that I’ll be there after showering. Thank you.”
The house servant shakes her head, “I’m afraid he needs you now.”
“...As of this moment?”
“I believe so.” She bows before stepping back, “Please follow me. He’s in his study.”
Is he gravely injured that he needs your blood so soon to replenish himself? The usual time interval between feeding sessions on average is one week. Sometimes five days if he’s overworked… but three days is a first. You don’t know if you should feel worried for him. Or is his old age finally catching up?
Perhaps the answer is far simpler.
Upon reaching the doors of his study, they immediately open and the house servant makes herself scarce. Lord Noy, dressed down in the comforts of his home, politely smiles at you, yet the lack of an… alarming injury on his person makes a question mark apparent on top of your head. You envisioned him to be bedridden in pain or maybe lethargic in his movements. The Lord Noy standing in front of you right now is anything but that. He’s perfectly fine. Visibly joyed at the sight of his sole bloodbag, actually.
You don’t want to overstep your place, so you keep your inquiries to yourself as you begin unbuttoning your high collar, fully exposing your still sore neck to his blood red eyes. He sucks in a sharp breath a second later, and you watch him advance toward you as if in a trance.
Indeed, the answer is far simpler.
Watching him feast and groan at the taste of your blood, you understand that he’s growing greedy. Both with your blood and body, and most especially your heart.
LOVE IS THERE AT FIRST SIGHT. (MITYA)
The books you’ve been planning to borrow from the royal library were all borrowed by someone else first. It wouldn’t upset you at all if it were going to be returned next week, but it’s been three months now and the librarian is growing tired of your constant pestering. To throw you a bone, she gave you the address of the person who has your planned books and told you to: “Pay him a visit if you’re so desperate!”
Not the most moral thing to do, but you’re now standing outside the house (hut?) from the address given to you, seconds away from knocking on the door. He’s read all those books surely, so he’ll give it to you, right?
You knock. “Hello? Anyone there?”
A muffled, “Uhh, busy!” answers you.
Busy, huh? “That’s okay! I’m just here to retrieve the books you borrowed from the royal library. An approximate quantity of twelve books, if I may recall correctly.”
A faint gasp. “Already!?” What does he mean by already? It’s been three months. “Hold on! Extend it a bit, please!”
“Absolutely not.” You snap, “I need to read ‘I’m reborn as an evil scientist so here’s a guide to quantum physics.’ and ‘why it’s not crazy to say teyvat is upside down: a dissertation.’ now. You had your chance to read it!”
He shuts up for one second before bursting out laughing, “It’s good that I can just… not hand it over to you then! How did you find my address in the first place?”
You turn rabid. Gentle, polite knocks are now fists angrily banging on wood. “The librarian gave it to me! Open the door or else I’m invading your house!”
“Go for it! You can try!”
“By the Tsaritsa’s benevolence, I will!”
Ten minutes later, the thick wooden door collapses from your anger, and you see the source of your ire for the past three months in the middle of the room, surrounded by countless stacks of books, looking at you in complete shock. Ugh, What a greedy hoarder! He’s probably a poser!
“Give me the books!”
He mumbles something indecipherable.
“What?”
You wish you hadn’t asked him that.
“I said... I think I’m in love with you.”
LOVE IS PASSIONATE. (DANICA)
The bed is made, dinner is cooked, the rooms are cleaned, your nightwear is laid out on your bed, the curtains are drawn, and the small garden outside is already watered – all to the courtesy of Danica, of course. Her dedication to take care of every aspect of your life is commendable, but you don’t see the point in chastising her.
It’s because of her dedication that you can get away with being an utter brat.
“My liege, I’m back.”
You come rounding the corner eagerly greeting her, “Did you do it? Did you poison my father, Danica?”
She smiles at your demeanor, her uncaring and formal exterior always nowhere to be found in the face of her master. “Yes, the deed is done. He collapsed thirty minutes ago.”
You hug her in thanks, “And the body? Did you search the body?”
Her arms hold you in a tight grip, unwilling to let go. Melting into your embrace, you feel her lips move around the nape of your neck, “I have.”
Danica knows you like the back of her hand and her loyalty is unfaltering. The ugliness of your soul can never chase her away, for she loves you dearly and undoubtedly.
“What did you find?”
She shakes her head in disappointment. “Nothing.”
You pull away, ignoring the pleading eyes she sends you. “How unfortunate… Then it seems we have to look for the key elsewhere. You cleaned up the evidence, right? Oh, and prepare some tea for me, please.”
“My liege…”
Patting her head and watching her lean into it, you tut, “Danica, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at that dead bastard. The Tsaritsa’s plan needed his research, and he chose to keep it from us. Could you believe him? Serves him right.”
“So please don’t worry, my dearest maid. You have never disappointed me, and you won’t be doing so anytime soon.”
LOVE IS A CRUSH. (VESNA)
“You!”
You hold in your sigh, and instead brace yourself for the telltale sound of fae wings fluttering in your direction. It’s the third time this week, and the nth time this year that you’re stopped and humiliated in the middle of Snezhnograd, all at the amusement of a certain fae officer. A high-ranking one too, unfortunately.
The sound of her heels dropping down to the ground makes you look at her. You say nothing, she seems pleased by this.
“Good, you knew you were the offender right away.”
She swivels and takes flight once more, “What are you standing around there for? Come with me! You need to fill out your violation form in the office.”
That makes you sputter, “But I don’t even know what I did wrong? You just stopped me and–”
“You think just because you possess a stellar linchpin means you’re free to run your mouth? Might I remind you that I impose the will of the Tsaritsa on you humans?” Vesna’s always been cuckoo to you, but this is…
You bite your tongue, watching the other faes squirm around in discomfort.
“Nevermind. I’ll follow you.”
Like a switch flipped, she proudly nodded in approval. “Very well. Off we go now.”
From behind, you hear the fae officers whisper to one another that: “She’s incapable of wooing her crush. Let’s leave her be; she can always make them give their name to her.”
...What a horrible week.
LOVE IS UNCONDITIONAL. (PANTALONE)
Centuries ago, the name Feofan was inconsequential to the citizens of Snezhnaya, for the bearer of that name was nothing more than a struggling young man living paycheck to paycheck as a bank clerk. He meant nothing to the grand picture of the nation, but at that time, Feofan was your closest friend.
As the bank clerk slotted after his shift, you formed a friendship with him that way. During the brief window of time as his shift ended and yours was about to begin, conversations were made, and hangouts were formed. Good friends save up their salaries to go see an anticipated Opera that day. Good friends didn’t care that their friend wasn’t the epitome of wealth.
When Feofan asked you if you wanted more in life; wanted more from him, you shook your head no. What else is there to want? You had good friends and a decent job. But his expression was unreadable when he asked a following question if you’d like to have more wealth.
…It’d be nice, definitely. But I’m fine with my life right now, maybe in the future I’ll want more, just not now.
Believing that it’s the only way to repay you for loving a worthless man like him, he took that as the signal to pursue his years-long obsession with money. After quitting his job, he disappeared from your life for a few years, and he began pursuing a business. You thought he had moved to a neighboring nation at some point until he showed up on your doorstep one day.
Your bank clerk friend, now turned Fatui Harbinger, insisted then and there that you drank the vial he held in his hands. You trust him, yet…
“Why?”
“I want us to live forever.”
To love a worthless man… surely you would love him more now that he had something to his name.
