First Fic I've Ever Written Has Been Posted ! Give It Some Love ^^!

More Childe brainrot. Childe x fem!reader. Teasing. Thigh riding. Fingering. Praise. Degradation. Pet name princess used.

You guys really seem to like my Childe smut. He has been heavy on my mind lately.

Childe always enjoyed when you sat with him in his office while he finished mission reports and other ins and outs for the Fatui. When you told him that you'd made yourself cum with your fingers your clit while you thought about him nearly sends need feral.

He had one arm wrapped around you, holding you back against him while he rutted his hardening cock against your backside. His other hand would grope it's way down your body before dipping between your legs.

First he'll whisper in your ear in Russian all the things he wanted to do to you, translating it into English. His tongue would flick hot against the shell of your ear, his teeth nipping playfully at your ear lobe.

His fingers would push your panties aside, the pads of his fingers rubbing and teasing your clit until you whimpered and squirmed against him.

Childe laughed softly in your ear, amused at how desperate you were getting for him. "I'm sorry, princess. You are going to have to wait for me to fuck you. I'll keep your satisfied in the meantime, don't you worry," He gave your throbbing clit a few soothing rubs, making you squirm more against him.

"How about you get yourself off on my thigh?' He suggested, patting his thigh after he sat down in his chair. You peeled your drenched panties off, and straddled his thigh. Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you glided your cunt along his thigh. The fabric of his pants rubbing against your clit made it throb more.

The closer you came to cumming, the louder you moan as you desperately brought yourself to orgasm, soaking his thigh as your head dropped onto his neck. Childe guided your pace with a hand on your hip, bouncing you on his thigh while you chased your high.

"What a good girl," He purred, smirking at you while he groped your ass, "now you've distracted me enough," He lifted you off of his thigh. Childe laughed again when he saw your face crumble. "Turn around and bend over, I told you I was going to keep you satisfied, didn't I?"

Childe proceeded to work on his paper work with one hand, stuffing your cunt full of his fingers with the other hand. He enjoyed looking over to see your fucked out expression while he made you cum over and over and on his fingers. Your face would be pressed against his desk, your cheeks flushed and drool coming from your mouth. "What a slut my princess is. You were absolutely soaking through my gloves."

Childe pushed two fingers into your mouth, pressing suddenly on your tongue to make you cough so he could put a third finger into your mouth. He took out his leaking cock, pumping his hand along it while he watched his fingers pump in and out of your mouth.

He guided you to straddle him, slowly lowering you down onto his cock. The more it sank inside of you, the stronger it throbbed. The feeling of your cunt clenching tight around his cock was too much for him to bear. Growling, he dropped you all the way onto his cock, making your back arch as you cried out for him.

Sitting back in his chair, Childe rested his hands behind his head, watching you bounce on his cock, rubbing your clit. "What a cute little slut you are. You are desperate to cum on my cock, yeah?" His hands found your hips, holding you still while he fucked his cock deep inside of you.

"Childe, Childe, Childe!" You chanted, breathless from his intense pace. "I'm gonna..gonna.." You trailed off, your fingernails digging into his shoulders. Tears of pleasure burned in your eyes, falling down your cheeks the tighter your orgasm built up.

Childe smacked a hand across your ass, making you yelp. Your body trembled trembled as his cock kissed your sweet spot, nearly making your body fall limp from the intensity of the pleasure. "Is my princess going to cum again?" He groaned, holding onto you tighter. He let out a loud, husky moan as his cock emptied inside of you.

It didn't take much convincing to get you cock warm him after you squirted on his cock, quivering from overstimulation while you begged him to fuck you dumb again.

marry me

gojo satoru x reader.

or, in which, due to a coincidental circumstance, gojo asks you to marry him.

"i think you ultimately become whoever would have saved you that time no one did."

"then don't save me."

based off of this drabble . everyone liked it so much that i decided to finally write it XD i hope you all enjoy !!

ch 1. tossed like a salad (coming soon!!)

as a new student of jujutsu sorcery, you are sent as a transfer student to japan to help out over there. what you didn't realize was how much stronger the cursed spirits are there...

ch 2. hyperactive new recruit

chapter summary coming soon.

ch 3. dropkicked through the ceiling

chapter summary coming soon.

taglist

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Basically, I tagged everyone who asked to be & everyone who said to please make it into a fic ヽ(*´▽)ノ♪ if you didn't want to be tagged pls let me know

also, want to be tagged? then pls comment (ゝω・´★) here or on the drabble that this fic came from <3

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I went out and bought a christmas 2021 miku HAHA

omg is your pfp and banners based off lose the princess?? i always loved the character whatt

Hihi!!!! You’re my first ask omg… (*´꒳`*)

And yes!!! I really liked the song while making my profile.. my account is based on Jirai Kei and pink themed characters because i find them cute. I’m a Jirai Kei myself so I also just like the aesthetic a lot too.

Thank you for the ask!!

This is money cat. He only appears every 1,383,986,917,198,001 posts. If you repost this in 30 seconds he will bring u good wealth and fortune.

Reblog to kill it faster

synopsis: It doesn't matter which name he chooses to go by; even after 500 years you will call him Zandik. Even after decades, the two of you will be tied by an invisible string. Years come and go but somehow the two of you continue to argue about the same philosophy. He calls this thing a blessing, you call it a curse.

pairing: dottore x gn! reader word count: 5.3k warnings: time jumps, domesticity hints, mentions of hickeys, dottore is complicated and so is your relationship, ngl reader kind of faruzan coded with the curse, proofread but while skimming.

i. spring

The first time he meets you, he finds you annoying.   Laughing about it comes so easy now even if the memory is around five hundred years old, but, back then, on the very first day that you sat down next to him – he undoubtedly found you annoying.  

While answering to the name Dottore, he would never say he got attached to any particular season in the year. Every true scientist knows that change is the only permanent thing because it helps them shape and mold new creations. Chasing after change meant chasing something eternal even back then when he was simply Zandik.  

Yes, he answered to the name Zandik. His classmates as well as fellow researchers from other darshans knew him. There was a certain genius that always showed itself. It was admiration that followed. Those who wanted to partner up with him or those that simply wanted a glance from him; it was a certain privilege he could leverage. But he also had unspoken rules and one of them you decided to cross.  

Everyone knew that when Zandik was inside the library with more than 9 books in his hands, nobody was meant to approach his table. It doesn’t matter how many people were intended to use it; a certain sense of ownership existed. If you wanted to get on his good side, you would not bother to approach him when he was deep into theoretical research. When someone did, they would get a tense jaw, a lowered gaze and red eyes that glimmered. It doesn’t matter that everyone called him handsome, in those moments he was simply scary to look at.  

He thought that this spring day would prove fruitful in answering his passionate research question. He laid down his materials; he was enjoying sketching and reimagining a new model when out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone with a Haravatat uniform approach his table.  

Surely it was a mistake on their part. He placed his hand on the bottom corner and was about to flip to the next page when his hand stayed hovering above the corner he wanted to keep pristine. You were lucky he didn’t grab the delicate paper in between his fingers because he could have risked denting it when you saw down.  

You sat down? At his table? When he had not 9 but 13 books in front of him and his personal materials? Haravatat students did have a certain repertoire for being particularly annoying he remembered. Others found them either too bubbly or too quiet; they were known for their ‘specific’ behaviour, loud debates and their emotional connection to languages. Zandik could respect the few individuals that actually were valuable there but he could not respect someone breaking one of his rules and distracting him from his own research.  

His jaw was already tense but it fell open when he turned his head in your direction and realized you had no shame. Typical of a Haravatat student.   You sat there on the chair diagonally from him; your legs were crossed, your head was leaning against your hand and you were looking directly at him. The book in front of you couldn’t even be used as a cover up.  

It was closed.  You were staring at him.  You felt no shame when he turned around.   God, were you annoying.  

If he wanted his peace back, he would have to make it by chasing you off. To chase you off, he would have to engage with you.   He placed his hands on the either side of his book, he leaned in slightly to get a better look at you. Animals did this all the time – they showed signs of hostility. Humans, as the ultimate animals, were no different. Perhaps this would be enough to activate you own instincts and chase you off?  

… 

It wasn’t.   You were still looking at him.  Analysing him.   You were after something.  

“What do you want?” Just because you were here, it didn’t mean his voice would change. Your presence should have no effect on him similar to that.   He was hoping you would answer fast but you just continued to look at him. Then, you uncrossed your legs in a frustrated motion and you shook your head. How annoying.  Just what was it that you wanted? 

“I will not ask you what you want again. Leave if you have nothing to say.” 

That seemed to strike a nerve. Because for the first time in a long time, someone glared at him. You crossed your legs again and scowl was on your face in a matter of seconds. How animated; how easy you were to read like a creature. You approached his table. You looked at him; so why were you annoyed now?  

“Listen, I don’t have a lot of time to entertain your foolishness what-” suddenly, your hand stretched out and your index finger was pointing at him. 

“You!” How dare you point at him? His jaw grew tighter and his shoulders tensed. You had not right for this.   “You! What does it mean to be human?!”  

…   Excuse you?   His shoulders fell down and he leaned back with laugher. Not only were you annoying, you were absurd. Who does that to anyone? Who does that to him?  But sure, he supposes he could entertain your little question. His laughter stops and he straightens up.  

“To be human means to chase change.”  

That is what he has been doing all his life. That is what brought him here. Why do you blink up at him like an unimpressed mushroom boar? Is his answer not good enough for you?   You stand up and pick up your own book.  

“So disappointing. I thought a genius everyone mentioned would give an answer not underlined on chapter two. As if chasing change could mean being human. Do you really think change is something you can catch? Absurd.” 

He wasn’t absurd.   You were.   How dare you act like this? How dare you simply turn around with a bigger scowl on your face and walk away from him?  

You didn’t even give him your name and you dared to accuse him of being absurd? Haravatat students will always be so odd. And did you have to do it in a full library so everyone would get a front row ticket to your theatrical show?  

Ah yes, Dottore is sure even when reminiscing.   You really were annoying on the first day he met you.  

ii. summer

“Can you believe he actually implied that she was ugly and then got offended when she dissed him proving she overheard it? And now, suddenly, mister ‘I am rich and your family is poor’ is disappointed because she won’t marry him?!” 

Perhaps never wanting to find out your name would have been more beneficial to him? If he only dubbed you as ‘that-one-library-weirdo', he wouldn’t be listening to this right now. But, Zandik compares it to the months when he hadn’t know you and he realizes doing his experiments in front of this giant machine was more lonely back then.  

The grass and the night sky, a small flutter of the wind that made the corners of his papers turn up; it suddenly feels more full...this place that you share. Somehow, he found out your name and general passions from other students. Then, when you approached him in the library table again without saying anything, he allowed that too; furrowed brow and all.   Then, the two of you had to acknowledge one another in the hallways with a head nod, or a small wave or an occasional ‘hi’ uttered softly.   He isn’t quite sure when and how the two of you started sharing a few notes, sitting next to one another in the same elective the next semester or even going out for food and drinks.  

He once said it was odd and you told him that is the whole problem with his philosophy. Change just happens; you cannot catch it as it unfolds. You said it would always be that way because humans functioned for eons with it. You said he should think of it as a natural law and he would have, had you not decided to suck on the straw of your drink so loudly the hair on his head stood up.  

Still, this was a welcome change to him. He tends not to dwell on it too much; after all, those thoughts were your job.   Yes, he let you sit in the grass next to him while he fixes up this machine.   Yes, he didn’t completely tune you out.   And, yes, he might have told that stuck-up blonde man in his darshan that you were in fact not single. It isn’t like lying and manipulation were out of his character; Zandik swore he would get what he wants and reject anything he deems unworthy. That blonde man whose name he didn’t even bother to remember was unworthy of you. Simple as that. Nothing more.  

For the first time since he was a simple child, Zandik felt like he had made a genuine friend. Having to share a table with the two of you both annoying him would have been torture.  

The new mechanical part needs 5 screws. One. Two. Three. 

“Zandik, are you listening to me?” 

Four. 

“Yes, yes – I don’t know why you called that man a ‘standard’ of romantic literature if he acts like that.” 

The fifth one. The last one is always the worst.  

“I don’t have time to explain that again. I have something more important to tell you.”   “Mhm.” 

If he could just get it to fit right and make this work, he would be at the end of his experiment. Just a few more twists and- 

“I am leaving Sumeru tomorrow morning.” 

He halts. The screwdriver stands still not having finished the mission assigned to it. Something inside the machine cracks and for a second Zandik wonders if that noise came from inside of his own body. Shouldn’t he be mad? Upset? This is the first time you’re telling him about it. Wait, if so, it must be a silly trip that is meaningless and so insignificant you forgot to mention it.  

“Oh, are Haravatat students setting up camp somewhere again? Your darshan really likes to have bonding experiences.”  

Zandik continues to twist the screw; the machine failed but he will see this through to the end. Looking up at you when he already knows the answer from the silence that settles between the two of you would show his weakness. Zandik has no weaknesses anyone knows of. Zandik has a prideful disposition he will keep up regardless of what happens.  

“It is just me...remember how I said this romantic book is fascinating? I didn’t mean the romance of it; I meant the ruins that are described only briefly. They’re too detailed to not exist somewhere in Natlan! I am sure of it! I got permission to make them my thesis. Isn’t that great?”  

You never talked to him about your thesis plans. He was forced to listen to 5 hours of why the female lead’s arrogance was important in the novel but he wasn’t privy to something more intimate of your plans.  

He didn’t tell you much about his childhood and judgments of his villagers or classmates. He didn’t reveal anything significant about himself but...that library table was his intimate space which he allowed you to occupy. Nobody else.   And this place? Do you know how meaningful it is to him? To his dreams and aspirations as a researcher? Do you know how many nights he spent on the grass you are sitting on right now just trying to get his research to work? And, if it didn’t, the hours he spent hoping and cursing at the parts?  

Zandik suddenly felt cold towards you. He let you inside these intimate spaces and what did he let in return? Less loneliness? The two of you clearly didn’t connect as human beings. What does he know about you? He knows the way you write in the margins and the shapes you’d draw on his papers, he knows the way you talk when passionate – how he has to take one step to the left when you start debating a syntax issue unless he wants your outstretched hand to hit his cheek – he knows the annoying sound you make when drinking from straws; fuck, he even knows the patterns to your walks.  

Was this what you truly meant when you said humans cannot catch change? The fact that just now he realized how much he knows about you yet not enough to have predicted this?   The worst by far, is that he cannot find it in himself to yell at you for how he feels. He can’t yell at you for not knowing this... He knew that everyone travels for their thesis, so, he should say he expected it.  

You don’t need to know how he thought the two of you would travel to the same place but with different research objectives. Still, what else can he do besides let you go?  

He looks at you. Finally. But you wish that he hadn’t. This is an expression you’ve never seen on him before; an expression that makes leaving such a hard task even when you rely on not saying goodbye.  

Zandik sometimes reminded you of stoics; the way he would take every failure and success as equal opportunity without getting derailed. But, only now do you see his red eyes glow; the way they’re looking at you while hardly blinking – like he is trying to remember as much of you as possible to carry with him.  

You never could have guessed how right he was; how even that millisecond meant remembrance that haunts.  

The two of you don’t say goodbye that night. You wish each other luck and promise to compete on who can finish their thesis faster.  

Neither of you do.  

Zandik gets expelled for how obsessive he becomes.   And you get lost to time. Lost to Natlan.  

The last news Zandik hears about you does not come from any of your letters – they were only three after all. He hears from the Matra that you rushed inside a ruin and were lost forever. 

The word forever always had a special ring to him; that was the first time he hated it. If you were lost forever, he would simply be better than you. He would live forever and make sure to do everything he wanted. Ample time leads to ample rewards.  

Zandik, when he changes his name, abandons everything that grounded it. He throws away your letters and he throws away you. Only he knows what was harder to discard.  

iii. autumn

Dottore sometimes has to stand inside of his own lab to admire his work. The vastness of it and all the success and trust he has as well as the fact his clones are more advanced than ever; it all proves just how right he was. And just how wrong they were. 

Turning down a genius and trying to stop his advancement? Foolish.   Those people in the village that ostracised him? Insignificant. As well as their offspring that he never saw.   Only a few people had what it takes to contribute true research to this world. And they were lost or boxed in or stopped by something so trivial as the academia or governments.  

He stands above it all. As the ultimate showcase of unrivalled genius and absolute freedom. Nobody asks him what it means to be human anymore. They don’t consider him such; and every single day he slips down the path of being something that cannot answer that.  

His test subjects often shout about humanity and how he has none. He wonders if they realize how it means nothing. Seeing humans struggle and break does light up something in him. And he decided to chase that long ago.  

“Lord Harbinger.”  

He stays silent. Lord Harbinger is a title he refuses to answer to. Why should he turn his neck to the same words his inadequate colleagues do? If the person calling him doesn’t immediately correct himself, they know what happens next.  

“I mean, Doctor!” Good. Humans knew how to adopt quickly after all. He finally tilts up his neck towards the man. He takes off the mask covering his face just so that his subordinate could see the glare.  

“What do you want?”  “Something very odd is happening in quarter 7, section 31!”  “Odd? I didn’t even experiment in there recently and nothing important was placed there from my machinery.”   “We have no idea what is happening! There is a glow but no smoke or fire or anything else. We only thought it would be right to notify you.”  “A glow you say? Ah, perhaps it is a jinn lamp where a weak soul of older days slumbers. We did place the gifts of those nobles from all over Teyvat there. I told Pierro I don’t need them but he insisted I should keep them.”  

He twiddles with his pen.  

“That section is insignificant to me. I hold no care about it at all.” He takes a deep breath. If only it was section 37 instead. There, he was working on an experiment involving lay lines and ghostly souls. 

“Either way Doctor, the light just keeps on growing and we are afraid it will expand to other sections. What if one of the nobles turned against us? What if-”   “Shut your mouth, I will go. No matter how many times I look for capable people, they never meet my expectations.”  

Dottore gets up from his chair but with no zest. He saw bottles like those of jinn all the time years ago. The only thing less exciting about seeing one again are the white hallways he has to walk through to get to the room. The underling follows behind him, scurrying like a bug. Cosmically insignificant. To think that this bug’s energy will one day get the same treatment as those ghostly souls that actually matter.  

He opens the door and sees a bright blue light. There is no imminent danger. Perhaps the being inside this lamp recognized another presence inside the room and they are reacting to it? He shudders at the thought of having to deal with another ex-lovers pair that vowed revenge on one another.  

Dottore walks over to the source of the light. He cannot see the centre of it. It gives off a warmth however. And he wanted to roll his eyes at the way his subordinate shakes. But, his curious nature could never lay dormant for a long time.  

He realizes that he feels warmth from it, but his insignificant bug feels chills. Whatever this is, it could come in handy for his experiments that require temperature changes.  

Dottore reaches to grab it.  

“We tried that before Sir! Nothing changed!” 

Sir again. Not Doctor. The same second mistake cannot be forgiven.   Dottore’s hand grabs at the light core. He expects the feel and the weight of a marble.  

But it completely disappears.   Dottore’s face drops as does his excitement. The poor underling has no idea he will suffer for both his own actions and the fluctuations of Dottore’s moods.   The room is pitch black again. There is no sound coming from anywhere. The other subordinates ran off because they thought the light was dangerous. Dottore clicks his tongue in realizing he will have to replace them all again.  

Then, the bug behind him shrieks. He can hear him tumble onto the ground and run off as soon as he gets up. What a fool. He is yelling at the top of his lungs. Perhaps pulling out his tongue should teach him to be quiet.  

When Dottore turns around, he feels warmth engulf his body. He digs his heels into the floor to stop himself from moving. He hears a sound he hadn’t heard in years.  

“Zandik? I-Is that you?”  

He can hear your voice. He can hear you call out that acursed name. Why are you here? Why are you on the floor, hunched over and kneeling?  

“Zandik?” 

Stop saying that! Stop it! He can feel his right hand shake; he can feel his heart beat. Worst of all, he can hear the things the other clones are saying about this memory. It is becoming a part of the collective. He can hear the collective hope and heartbreak.  

“That is you. Isn’t it?”  

Your voice is so weak.  

“I haven’t answered to that name for 200 years now.”  

He cannot find it in himself to say anything else. The other clones are creating a ricocheting cacophony inside his brain. He should have thrown out more of his humanity. Didn’t he burn those letters? Why is he suddenly remembering lines from them? Why is one of his clones crying?  

“200 years..?” he can hear the bewilderment in your voice. When he looks down at you, he can see the tears in your eyes. You are afraid; they no longer hold any light.  

He kneels down and touches your shoulder to calm your shaking body. Only then does he get hit by the ugly revelation that you are laughing but there is no sound. You look like you are breaking in every sense of the word; he never managed to drive his test subjects to these limits where they would lose everything at once.  

He clicks his tongue. He shakes your shoulders with a grip that makes you yelp. Only then do you actually begin to cry. He takes it. He takes this breakdown over the utter lack of humanity you displayed before.  

“Zandik I-I"  “Dottore. My name is Dottore now.”  

He says it even if he is sure you can’t actually hear him. His voice can’t reach out to you even if he is kneeling down next to you, embracing you as a surprise to himself. You’re crying into his shoulder, slobbering and hiccupping.  

You ask him what it means to be human again.   He cannot answer you. He became something else.   You say that you aren’t sure about it anymore. That hurts more than his own lack of an answer. You should have come back in a different way. You should have come back pointing a finger at him, yelling to him about his choices. Maybe even yelling at him for not looking for you. Not like this. Never like this.  

Only when you faint in his arms does he notice the cuts and bruises on your body. For the first time since he changed his name – Dottore decides to treat someone like a real doctor. His subordinates have to live with that – seeing the ruthless harbinger who terrorizes them show some care. Command it even.  

It isn’t natural. It shouldn’t even exist. Seeing humanity from a man like that makes them question everything. He goes into your room 5 times a day, doesn’t let anyone else do anything besides keep guard. And then, in between those visits, he tortures children and experiments on them with poison and toxic remains. He gets blood all over his coat and then puts on a new one when knocking on your door.  

They can’t fathom it. It simply shouldn’t exist. And they start avoiding that door; because pretending like it doesn’t exist and pretending like their master is only ruthless makes it easier to live. 

And when you do wake up – it is impossible to ignore how their master’s humanity makes itself known. 

iv. winter

“You know I quite like this little habit of ours.” Dottore’s voice reminds you how wrong your predictions were. Since he came back earlier from Sumeru than you bet on, you now owe a large sum of mora to a certain banker.  

“I was not aware that it was a habit. You just come here whenever you please.”   “There is something to come to. Be a dear and fetch another tea cup for me, would you?” Typical him. Only he would be able to say such a line; implying that whatever this was between the two of you reminded him of a home.   But, even if you click your tongue, you get another tea cup and pour him some. At least you can remember your own humanity when your cold hands touch it and suddenly warmth seeps through. As a child, you loved to do it. You would put your hands in cold rain on purpose just to feel this simple warmth. You have a habit of taking off your gloves when drinking tea, he keeps his on. He has a habit of sitting next to you in the same way he did all those years ago.  

“Now, let me engage in ‘pure bragging’ as your lovely lips like to put it. Are you ready to hear of Sumeru again and just everything that I accomplished?”  

Something tells you not to give him that satisfaction. So you put the cup down and point a finger at him.  

“You’re more human now, Zandik.”  “How many times must I tell you not to use that name?”  “Until you figure out a way to go back into the past and change the name on your birth certificate to Dottore, and then glare at me in the library like you did when we met – I will continue to use it. That is your true name after all. Erase all records if you will, but I will remember it.”  

He doesn’t think about bragging anymore.  

“That library just looks more grand now, the people calling themselves researchers are anything but that.”  

You can feel when he dangles a hook in front of you. Taking it would give him far too much satisfaction.  

“He cried, you know.”  

He grips the handle.  

“I felt it, no need to mention it.”  “The youngest one, the one I was most fond of, cried when you killed all of them.”  “And some swore revenge. Are you trying to get me to focus on the feelings? You probably are, you’ve been annoying since the first day I met you.”  “And you still haven’t realized you cannot chase change. Tell me, were you surprised when she asked you that? Were you hesitant? Aren’t your clones proof of everything you ever wanted?”  “It is a shame you hadn’t gone with me.” He deflects it. “The archon would certainly like you. She too, kept asking about humanity and the lines I crossed.”  

Your tea has gone cold by now. Zandik always had a way of distracting you for longer than you’d like. 

“And were your answers to her something I would approve of?”  “You said I seemed more human now, is that not enough for you?”  “I am glad to see only one version of you now. I will take that as a start.”   “Unbelievable, by a stroke of luck which you call misfortune, you were granted even more time than me but you hate it.”  “We always differed in our definitions. I wasn’t blessed with this, I was cursed. I entered those runes to learn more of humanity but I was punished by my eagerness to lose my own.” 

He has to roll his eyes. 

“Just because you were blessed with so much time and can make a legacy like myself, it doesn’t mean you are no longer human. Would you like me to take you to see all those monsters? Perhaps some of my own research experiments?”   “You forget I am free to leave this place whenever I wish. And, neither of us have legacy.”  “Speak for yourself. You left and came back all those years ago because you said you hated me. Yet, here we are, drinking tea like always.”  “I came back because I was jealous of true humans.”  “And I pity you for being jealous of inferior creatures.”  “And I pity you for thinking you will ever leave a legacy that is fond of remembering.” 

“Careful there, your hateful gaze might make me forget you love me.”  “I don’t love you.” 

Dottore leans back in his chair and he laughs.  

“But you do. That is what proves your humanity. Always paradoxical and complex, disagreeing with my actions but realizing I am perhaps the only human that relates to you. We call the same thing by different names; but it won’t change either way.”  “I just don’t know why I came back to you from that forsaken ruin.”  “Should we call it fate?”  “You gave it an abstract name? Does it still bother you that you never found a way inside?”  

He places his hand over your own on the table. He looks at you, now knowing that the two of you were right not to exchange goodbyes that day. And you relax. There is always a memory that triggers when he is next to you, there is always that realization that he knows you as much as you know him. You share time now but you shared it all those decades ago. There is something to come back to; there is someone that remembers, calls out your name and responds to the one that leaves your mouth.  

Some invisible and intricate connection always existed between you. And, you could leave, you could stand up at this very moment and travel to wherever you wish. But, you would lose that. You would lose the feeling that someone knows you and you’ve always believed that to be know is to be loved.   People learn old languages because the love those that came before. Humans have a habit of desperately clutching onto their humanity even if it is smaller than a grain of sand. And, if you must, to keep yourself grounded and to stand there until he realizes his own mistakes and humanity – you will hold onto him. It has to be worth it in the end. There has to be a reason you share his existence and were teleported back in front of him on your knees.  

You just hope it means something grander that will constitute your own legacy. 

v. evermore

That night, he traces the hickeys he left on your neck. It is one of the few times he takes off his gloves so that his human skin meets your own.  

“Ask me again.”  “I will not ask you for another round.”  “No,” he clicks his tongue, “ask me that question.”  “Are you aware that you are more obsessed with humanity than me, oh doctor? Laughable.”  “Just ask.”  “Fine. What makes you human?” 

He moves his hand down to your waist and pulls you closer to him. How could he ever ask you to use the name Dottore when his eyes have been the same all these years whenever he looks at you? You don’t get a chance to marvel at them for too long, he buries his face in your neck.  

“You. Having you here keeps me human. Sometimes I think we were destined to be together.”  

Nobody else knows this side of him. And in your opinion, selfish as it may be, they don’t deserve to know. 

“Oh, is the genius doctor now speaking about fate and destiny? What grand words you use. We weren’t destined to be together, we were doomed to be together.”  

There you go. Ruining a romantic moment by reminding him how differently the two of you look at this situation you’re in.   He groans. Perhaps you will come around one day, even if it has been 300 years since your return. What matters is that you returned to him by fate and by your own choice after travelling.  

“Hey! Zandik, bite my neck one more time I will force you to sleep on the couch.”  “If we were indeed doomed to be together, we might as well make the most of it and – are you trying to bite me back?”  “Your teeth were always annoyingly sharp!”  “And the noises you made 500 years ago when drinking are still annoying to this day.”  “That’s it. Go sleep on the couch, I don’t want to look at you right now.” 

a/n: legit this is so self indulgent cus it is how I imagine my relationship with this red flag would be. it isn't really toxic it is just philosophies not matching up. dottore is too fond of humanity without realizing it and i will make him suffer for it. reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. hope dottore anon likes it.

Should’ve read the fine print...

Minors DNI

Warning(s): NSFW, dubcon

Fem!Reader

Authors Note: First time; necessary feedback, pls! Taking requests!

It’s been about a week since you’ve moved into your new apartment. Everything about it was perfect except for one thing: you’ve explored every room but one, which was locked for some reason. (If only you had read the entire catalog ad, you would’ve understood why and that all past tenants never stayed too long). You complained about it to your landlord, who hired a locksmith free of charge, thankfully. This is what your actions have come to, sadly: you, standing before hundreds of slimy, purple tentacles, coming from all around the mystery room.

You try and back away quietly toward the door in hopes of being able to leave unnoticed. Pitifully, the floorboards creek(damn, this shitty building). The tentacles immediately move in your direction as you run for the door, only to be blocked off by more tentacles. They push you to the ground and squeeze around your arms and legs, probing at your torse.

They’re not hurting you; they seem pretty curious, actually. The tentacle's touch is soft and gentle. One tentacle stops at your face...it’s...caressing your cheek? Their touches were seemingly affectionate at first but quickly became provocative. They began to slip under your clothes, feeling you up.

Again, their touch was gentle but still violating nonetheless; they groped your breasts, sucking on your nipples and coiling around them. You try and keep as much dignity you have left, biting your lip to hold back your moans. The tentacles seem to sense your defiance and dislike it very much. They tear through your clothing, leaving only your thin panties to cover you. They curl around your thighs, spreading your legs to tease you, rubbing against your clothed cunt, and nuzzling your clit; their suckers find it and abuse the little bundle of nerves.

A blissful whine escapes your lips; you can’t remember the last time you felt this good. The tentacles stroke your body with satisfaction, assumingly rewarding you for your submission. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Your sense of dignity is long gone by now; you’re a wailing mess. Hair sticking to your sweat-coated skin, tear-filled eyes rolled up into your head, and while your mouth hangs open with a bead of drool leaking from the side.

The tentacles can sense your arousal, not to mention your drenched underwear. They move your panties to the side and continue to toy with your aching pussy, stroking your wet hole and sucking on your sore clit until you cum.

The tentacles let you catch your breath, lovingly massaging your body. Soon enough, you’re suspended in the air as more tentacles hold you, creating a makeshift bed to place you comfortably. Another tentacle approaches your face again, latching itself to your mouth and pushing past your lips to curl around your tongue. Is this its way of kissing you? Is it showing affection?

It’s a bit gross, but the tentacles mean well. Your body suddenly jolts as you feel a tentacle push against your sopping hole. It uses its suckers to tease you again, but as you grind yourself against it, the tentacle penetrates you, pressing against your walls to search for your sweet spot. The tentacle in your mouth begins to thrust in and out as you feel another tentacle enter your ass. The tentacle in your pussy moves rhythmically with the others as it’s sucker hit your g-spot. At this point, your mind is nothing but mush. All you see are white spots as your legs quake under the tentacles, unable to hold yourself up longer.

The tentacles wrap around your waist and lift you. You’re now ass up, face down, and being fucked mercilessly in all three holes. You can’t take it; it’s too good, too much, too many. You feel more tentacles enter your already full holes. Doesn’t this monster know you have a limit?

It doesn’t care, really. All it wants is to see you cum, and cum, again. You can feel yourself getting dizzier after each orgasm, one after another. Before you know it, you’re waking up from your fucked out haze. The tentacles seemed to have stopped fucking your brains out a while ago; they’re all curled up around your protectively, some still inside you. You try and crawl towards the door, but you’re body is useless at this point.

The tentacles drag you back to them, curling around to massage your worn-out body. It seems you won’t be leaving this room any time soon...or ever.

...

Might as well move your stuff in here.

FUCKING IN A PUBLIC BATHROOM

note: your genshin + honkai star rail bf makes you take them in the nearest bathroom

content warnings: nsfw (17+), fem!reader, fingering, public sex, unprotected sex

NEUVILLETTE

You just looked so cute in that sundress, how could you blame him for being so needy. He’d have you follow him to the restaurant’s bathroom, until the two of you manage to find a family one. As soon as that door was locked, his cock would be in your cunt instantly. His cock thrusting in and out of your soaking cunt, keeping his hands on your waist as he watched you attempt to grip at the walls or even the sink. How through his moans that he tries to silence, about how dirty you were trying to rile him up like this. But it worked.

AL HAITHAM

He just couldn’t stand that tight dress you were wearing. He wasn’t worried about other guys looking at you or staring at your tits for too long because he was never far from you, but got was that little dress tempting. You can’t blame him for having you both sneak into a nearby library’s bathroom. Your hands held behind your back while he trusted into your sloppy cunt. “The things you have me do” he would say watching your face flush due to his words. You bit your tongue to suppress your moans, wanting him to cum deep inside.

CHILDE

“You could have just told me you were this wet, no need to tease me” he would say, on his knees in the stall, before pressing his lips to your wet cunt after pulling your panties down. He doesn’t even let you fight back with his statement because he already has you focused on silencing your moans in any case someone came in. One hand over your lips while another was tangled up in his ginger curls. But despite how risky it was, you continued to keep thrusting your cunt into his mouth, needing him to reach further, and maybe even further with his cock.

JING YUAN

Who would fuck you in a family restroom your legs wrapped around his waist and your back against the wall while his cock kept slipping in and out of your cunt, always hitting deeper than then the last thrust. His lips attached to your neck leaving red marks everywhere while all you could sow as grip onto his shoulders and arms and as quietly as possible moan out his name. But god was that difficult with how deep his cock was entering you. That when you felt him fuck you through his cum you couldn’t help but moan out his name unexpectedly a bit too loud.

BLADE

He would have you gripping onto the sink or the counter with how deep he was thrusting into you from behind. As much as he wanted to mention how much of a dirty girl you were tightened every-time you guys thought someone was passing by or attempting to go into the bathroom your pussy tightened. He would chuckle and groan at the feel of the tightness as well, having a hand on your waist and one trailing to reach one of your breasts. God you looked sexy like this.

Wriothesley can hear your loud stomps from a mile away as you furiously speed-walk to his office door like a bloodhound trailing a scent. Even if not for that, the way that you bang your fist on the door is enough to grab his attention.

"WRIOTHESLEY." Comes booming in from the other side of the door. It's thick wood. He wonders how deaf he would have gone if the door hadn't protected him. The door (the thick, supposedly impenetrable door) rattles on its hinges like a screen in a hurricane when you try to kick it again. "DID YOU EAT MY DONUTS."

It's not even an accusation at that point. It's practically a declaration of war.

"WRIOTHESLEY!" You yell so loudly a group of gardes turning the corner down the hall scramble back the way they came. "Open up, jackass!"

Wriothesley, knowing he cannot escape the consequences of his actions, merely settles deeper into his chair as he drinks his tea. His last meal. Drink. Similar thing.

The door keeps rattling as you yell profanities at him, until one of his traitorous gardes approaches you hesitantly, saying not a single word but offering up the spare key to his office with shaky hands, head low and aggressively avoiding eye contact.

"Oh!" you say, demeanor switching immediately, losing the intimidating glint in your eye as you gingerly take the key. You smile kindly. "Thank you very much!"

Then you turn back to the door, the threat of violence in your eye as you wield the key like a weapon of war, inserting it into the keyhole and twisting it with a dark finality. The garde wonders if they should fear for their superior's wellbeing.

Wriothesley looks up from his newspaper as you close the door ominously behind you, somehow maintaining a blasé facadé even while staring down certain death.

"Well?" you prompt him, eye twitching like a stressed villain from a kid's cartoon show. You round on him in an instant, too quick for him to escape. Somehow, he keeps up his poker face. "Care to explain where my donuts went, Duke of Meropide?"

"I didn't eat them," He deadpans, staring you right in the eye. He pointedly does not acknowledge the white powdered sugar on his face.

"There's white powdered sugar on your face."

"Ah. So there is."

Another cartoony villain eye twitch. "Want to try that again?"

"...I love you?"

"And I love you. Last chance, though."

And he folds like a lawn chair. Wriothesley knows this is a fight he can't win. Even Neuvillette would tell him it's best to just kick the bucket and plead guilty at this point. He sighs breaking eye contact first like a wolf with its tail between its legs.

"Okay, I'll buy you another dozen of them."

You cross your arms, staring at him. He sighs.

"Another two dozen."

You soften just the slightest bit, coming close to perch on his lap and lean into his space. Instinctively, his arms come to wrap around your middle, pulling you against him.

"And?"

Wriothesley leans forward too, enough for your foreheads to touch. You can feel the breath of his sigh against your lips.

"And you have my sincerest apologies for taking your things. In my defense, I thought they were mine at first.”

“Apology accepted,” you say, satisfied, and peck him quickly on the lips. Before it can turn into anything else though, you’re springing up from his lap. Ignoring the disappointed furrow in his brow and the way his arms have still not moved from their position holding you earlier, you take his hand and pull him up from his chair with such startling enthusiasm and surprising strength that it has him stumbling for a second. You pull him towards the door regardless.

“C’mon, you’re making good on that apology right now, Wrio! Hope you finished your work!”

And no, technically he hasn’t finished his work. But he already knows that you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, and that pushing that work to tomorrow wouldn’t hurt. Probably. Whatever— it’d be worth it.

So he just sighs and gives the palm resting in his a squeeze and let’s himself be pulled along. You squeeze back.

“As long as you let me have a few. Those were pretty good.”