Omg Is Your Pfp And Banners Based Off Lose The Princess?? I Always Loved The Character Whatt

I had to get them out of my system . . . . . . 🪙🧪

Everyone, I've posted a new fic..!!!! ʚ₍ᐢ ›̥̥̥ ༝ ‹̥̥̥ ᐢ₎ɞ It's my first angst fic, so give it lots of love ><..

Sunlight.

DEAD!Megumi x Grieving! Reader

summary: In the wake of Megumi's death, you're left haunted by the quiet moments you've shared, the unspoken words, and the last goodbye that never came. Clinging to the memories of a love that felt unfinished, replaying the moments you wish you could have held onto forever. Grief, in all its silence, becomes a space you learn to inhabit, where the echoes of your lost connection linger just out of reach.

WARNINGS: (mentioned) character death, depression, ANGST!!!!!!!, heartbreak

Word count : 1134 words (I thought it would be short, but i just kept going with it and here we are....)

a/n: First time writing something super angsty!!! I hope you all enjoyed it... I think I did really well! (˶˃ᆺ˂˶) ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

You didn’t say much that morning. But that wasn’t unusual. You never did.

You stood by the door for a second longer than usual. Glanced back at me. And in your eyes—just for a moment— there was something soft. Something final.

I should’ve noticed. Should’ve asked why you weren’t wearing that fake bored look you always put on before missions. Should’ve stopped pretending I was too busy to get up and kiss you goodbye.

But I didn’t. I waved. Lazy. Distracted. Said, “Don’t die, dumbass.”

And you huffed a laugh. That almost-smile. Then turned and left.

No last words. No “I love you.” Not even a real look.

Just the soft click of the door closing.

And now I keep replaying that moment, over and over, like if I stare at it long enough, I’ll see something I missed.

A message. A sign. A warning.

But there’s nothing. Just you, fading into the morning light, shoulders squared like always, like you were walking into something you’d already accepted.

You always were like that— quiet, distant,

I know now— you were protecting me. Not just from the mission. From the goodbye.

Because if you had said anything real, anything final, I would’ve shattered right there.

But you knew me. Knew I needed to believe you'd be back. So you gave me silence. And left all the words unspoken.

Now I cling to them. The ones you never said. The look you gave me like it might’ve been enough. The quiet care folded into every goodbye you never made a big deal of.

I never got to say it back. But I hope you knew. Hope my half-wave meant please come back, and my lazy grin meant I need you, and my stupid parting words meant I love you more than I know how to say.

I hope you carried that with you. To wherever you are. Wherever you went.

Because I still carry you— in the silence. In the warmth that lingers. In the things we never said but always meant.

Some days, I still set a place for you. Not a real one. Not forks and plates. But a space—next to me, in the quiet. In the pauses between songs. In the second half of a sentence I never finish anymore.

I don’t think people vanish. Not really. You’ve just… sunk beneath the surface of everything.

You’re in the smell of summer pavement after rain. In the echo of a laugh I hear once and never again. In the way I turn, sometimes, too fast—thinking you're there. And the second after, when I remember.

You would’ve hated how soft I am now. How small I’ve gotten. I used to be louder around you. Stranger. Braver. Real.

Now I just exist. Sleep. Wake. Float.

Some days I still wonder what you were thinking. Before. When the silence started pressing too hard, when the light got too far away.

Did you know I would miss you like this? Like a phantom limb? Like an entire future collapsing in slow motion?

I still dream of you. Not as a ghost. Not as someone gone. But as you were—messy, warm, your sharp eyes, good with the dogs, awkward.

You always knew how to ruin me with a smile.

And when I wake up— when the dream folds shut like a book I never finished— there’s that moment. Where the air remembers you.

Where the world almost feels like it did before.

And I just lie there. Quiet. Staring at the ceiling like maybe you’ll come back with the morning light.

You don’t.

But I keep waking up anyway.

If I could stay in a moment… Yeah. I think I would.

But only that one. The one that slipped past like sunlight on water— brief, warm, gone before I could hold it.

It wasn’t anything special. Just your laugh, maybe. The way your voice stumbled when you were too tired to filter your thoughts. The way we both said nothing, and it still meant everything.

I replay it sometimes. That soft little second in the blur of days. You looked at me as if I were made of light. Me pretending I didn’t notice.

But I did. God, I did.

And now it’s fading.

Like all beautiful things do—too fast, too quiet, too soon.

I try to keep it. Bottle it up, hide it away, memorize the sound of it. But it slips. It always slips.

And maybe I was never meant to keep you. Maybe we were always going to be this—just a blink between lifetimes. Something bright and impossible and almost.

But still, I find myself reaching— in dreams, in quiet hours, in the soft hush of early morning— hoping, maybe, you’re doing the same.

Just for a moment. Just one.

You and me. Caught between the seconds. Still turning, still drifting, Still almost real.

I woke up like usual,

flipping to my side, and you’re still not there.

If I could’ve said something that mattered… Yeah. I think I would have.

But it all happened so fast. Too fast to hold. Too fast to save.

One minute, you were laughing like the world couldn’t touch you. And then— just air. Just a silence too big to fill.

People said it was peaceful. That you didn’t feel a thing. But I think they said that for me, not for you. Because I felt it. The echo where your voice should’ve been. The coldness in places you once warmed.

You were gone, and the sky didn’t change.

I hate that.

I hate that the world kept spinning, like you were never here at all.

But I remember.

I remember the exact shape of your presence— the way time curved when you smiled, the way your fingertips lingered a second too long, like you were always about to say goodbye but never quite did.

Maybe you knew. Maybe you knew.

And maybe I didn’t want to believe it.

Now, I go back to where you still exist— the songs we shared, the notes you left, the way your name looks written in my handwriting. 

Your jacket still lingered of your scent.

Your toothbrush is still hanging in my bathroom cabinet.

It’s like you’re going to be back, but I promised myself.

I can’t keep deceiving myself with lies like those. 

You’re not going to be back. Not to collect your toiletries,

And even more so not to collect the memories we’ve shared together. 

And so I replay it— the moment before you left. The last laugh. The last word. The last time you looked at me like I was something worth staying for.

The world spins, but I stay still. In the memory of you. In the breath before the end. In the place where I almost kept you.

To Have A Heart

ೃ⁀➷ fluffvember calendar

ೃ⁀➷ beta read by @xiao6ao because she's a queen

ೃ⁀➷ scaramouche x gn!reader | angst - fluff / reverse comfort | even after his three betrayals, you never left him

Among the bed of flowers, he laid, breathing in the chilly breeze that shouldered his scattered thoughts. A seed of unease grew ever more deeply within his chest, a place where he always yearned for a beating heart to live. Yet no matter how hard he had prayed to the gods, his pleas were never heard. Instead, a dreadful emptiness had filled him, and followed him in every waking moment.

The grass beneath him prickled his back as the blooming petals drew closer to caress his arms, a bittersweet sensation he silently rested in as the glowing sun cast shimmering specks across his glistening face. Eyes drifting shut to the waves of a nearby river, he decided then that he’d let the melody of nature distract him from the burdens that seemed to weigh heavier on his chest with each passing day. He was almost at peace with his mind— that was, until he heard the familiar chirp of his name, frantic steps accompanied by earth’s crunch underfoot growing near.

"Kuni! Ah, I thought I was too late."

And of course it was you, the one person that constantly occupied his mind— more often than not against his will.

He couldn't escape you, he realized; even after his third betrayal, you trailed along behind him like a lost duckling in pursuit of its mother and hunted him down whenever he tried to flee. He couldn't fathom why anyone would go through such a hassle for a puppet— a defective puppet like him— but deep in his conflicted mind, he realized he lived for every ray of your light, no matter how adamant his calling became.

The smile you gifted him beneath every gaze, the food you would cook and plead for him to taste, the joyous laughter you blessed him with whenever he did something “funny” or made an expression you deemed cute; they were enough to turn his porcelain skin a cherry red, a color he tried to hide by turning away, tugging his veil closer to his tinted cheeks, though it did little to conceal his flustered self. His denial only seemed to encourage your antics, you poking and prodding at his cheeks before he inevitably gave in with a sigh.

He wanted to be mad at the world. He wanted to breathe hatred upon the creator that deemed him worthless, to never again entrust his fate in so-called family, to no longer find himself relying on the pathetic lives of those fragile and simple-minded mortals... but he couldn't, because you had yet to break your promise and abandon him as well. He was a needle, hanging by your everlasting thread, unable to cut the lines that held onto his every limb, unlike his former master.

Your figure cast a soft shadow across him as you came to a rest beside him and leaned over. Wisteria hues fluttered open to meet your beaming face— a face he was always so fond of.

You smiled. "I missed you, you know."

"Why?" He questioned without skipping a beat, startling you. A pained expression conquered his features momentarily as he thought of all the reasons why you shouldn't miss him. All the reasons why you should have long parted ways, yet... He turned to you, the grass beneath him balled into his fist, struggling in his tight grasp as hurt became evident in his words.

"Why haven't you left me... like all the others?" Your heart ached, daring to crack alongside his voice. He could do nothing but feel vulnerable under your watchful gaze, withering away like his resolve for a better life.

Fear bubbled in his chest as tears threatened to break free from his lashes, twisting every fiber within you. And it was then you realized, he was waiting. To him, he didn't see the need of you prolonging your time with him, waiting for you to end this fruitless game and to become his fourth betrayal so the pain of your departure wouldn't hurt so bad.

You sighed, melancholic eyes settling on the discarded vessel that was this boy. The warmth of your hand cupped his cheek and he leaned into your touch, despite his conflicted feelings. If only he could rest in a grave of flowers with your touch for eternity. But eternity would be the death of him, because eternity will mark the death of you. Yet, eternity could wait, for every moment he spent with you was to be cherished like it was your last, but only in the absence of fear that tended to crawl agonizingly across his being.

You leaned in, capturing his shocked gaze as it glistened over with something akin to adoration, and Kunikuzushi swore he felt a fluttering in his chest when you whispered gently against his skin.

"Because," Your lips caressed his soft ones, stealing the worries and doubts he harbored and replacing it with a familiar yet foreign emotion. In seconds, he drowned in your embrace, sinking further into your hold and diving deeper into the love you poured out for him. It was like all his prayers had been answered with one action. And if such a blessing was weaved by false hope and deception, he would blindly follow it again to the very last flame and ember, and burn in your dying flame, marking his fourth betrayal.

No longer did he feel so hollow and empty or out of place, not when he had you to fill him with the beautiful waves of life, calming the raging storm that swirled in his head. Oh how he would hopelessly be washed away by everything you offered him, and he would die on this very hill if it meant he could relive this moment again with you.

He pulled you on top of him, pressing feverish kisses to your fleeting lips when you parted for air. You giggled, indulging him in a few more before you lifted yourself to look into his serene eyes, fingers sifting amethyst strands behind his ear. Three more words whispered gently, the feeling in his chest becoming clear behind the meaning of your confession.

"I love you."

And with that, you unknowingly gave him something his creator failed to do, weaving a ball of electro beneath the skin of his hollow form. He could feel it, the thrumming of life seeping through his being and sounding loud in his ears, another revelation dawning on him that it was in sync with the sound in your chest.

A heart, his heart, coexisting along with yours and fluttering just below your hand that rested on his figure. But how, how could a mortal bless him with something he shouldn't have? Something he couldn't have.

Because I love you.

Your declaration, your vow, your promise— it sealed away the darkness that had filled him, replacing the negative essence with something he craved all his life. Your last words broke the dam of his godly irises, beautiful currents of triumph spilling down his rosy chin.

"I love you, Kunikuzushi."

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i just went to check, and my first ever piece of writing got 30 likes, and I currently have 9 followers. Thank you all very much, I will be working hard to improve...

Summoning for Dummies

Pairing: magician!Reader x Tentacle Monster

Tags: Tentacle bondage; double penetration; multiple orgasms; overstimulation; occasional resistance from the reader and fucked while unconscious, therefore dubcon; tentacle blowjobs; obscene amounts of come

Reader: afab; no physical description except for what is needed in smut; is not referred to by any name

Words: 4551

Summary: Lazy afternoon summoning gone wrong right.

A/N: Reader attends an academy for magicians in this story. You can safely assume that all attendees of said academy are of age.

Yes. You should've paid more attention in your spells class. Yes, if you had taken your time and read the whole paragraph, you would've figured out that the number in that spell didn't indicate the hours the portal would last but rather how many of them there would be. And yes, if you had gone into this with a little more common sense, maybe—maybe—you wouldn't be hiding under your bed right now with a fuckton of tentacles flailing out of your bedroom floor.

But hey, no one's perfect.

Once again, you tapped your fingernails against the wooden floor—click-click-click. From here, you could merely see the base and the portal from which they spawned. But auditory sensations didn't seem to have an effect on them. Deaf tentacles.

From up above came occasional thumps. They kept bumping into stuff on the bookshelf, had already sent your moon water and one of your carnivorous plants flying to the ground (so long, Casper). So, either, they were blind, too—or they just didn't give a single fuck about manners. But you tried to be optimistic here and went with blind. That thing clearly outdid you in appendages, but you had all the senses on your side. And home court advantage. Now, all you had to do was close the portal and hope that it'd take the tentacles away with it. If not—well, that was a problem for future you.

Peering at your phone lying next to the spell book, you bit your lip. The group chat was still open. You could ask for help. But given how it had only been a month since the self-propagating slime incident and your friends were still giving you shit about it, you quickly discarded that idea. How would you even gonna explain this? Hey, so, I kinda wanted to summon a single tentacle for the weekend because it's a fucking Saturday and I'm horny and instead I got about twenty because I can't read properly when faced with the prospect of vaginal orgasms.

Yeah, no. You would be taking this to your grave.

A thud above you made you flinch. A tentacle had bumped into the headboard. How did they even work? Probably had to feel out everything in their surroundings. Touch, graze, probe. If one didn't have eyes, what else was there to do? They had to be big on warmth. On detecting surfaces, wet, dry, rough, smooth. You held your breath as you saw another tentacle slithering over the ground, inches away from your face.

The thing was: You had no fucking clue what you had summoned. Tentacles weren't that well researched, yet. It was known that they came from a different realm and that they probably had some kind of spawning point where they came together. A head, a center for their nervous system, something like that. But no one knew what their deal was. What nutrition they needed, how they procreated, why they even came to be.

A part of you—the stupid, bold part, that liked to free-style potions, annoy the professors with imaginative theses and try out new spells with no back-up or supervision—was intrigued. You could be the first one. The first one this up-close with an unresearched organism. Uncharted territory. Go where no magician has gone before.

For a brief moment, you were already seeing yourself on the front page of the local newspaper, shaking hands with the principal after having published a paper on tentacle behaviorism—and then plant number two joined Casper's remains on the ground.

Yeah, fuck that. Time to say goodbye, you little suckers.

Teeth gritted, you flipped the pages in the spell book in front of you, trying to decide on a course of action. But none of this sounded right. And you really, really didn't want to make things worse.

Something grazed the ankle of your foot. You kicked it off, hoping the spider would go about its way and leave you in peace. You had to concentrate. But seconds later, the sensation was back. Something creeped up your leg. Sliding under your sweatpants. Crawling up further and further. When you looked behind you, you saw a tentacle coming from the crack between the bed and the wall.

For a few seconds, your brain froze. You had no clue what to do. No fucking clue. Fight it off? Grab it and pull? Lie still? The thing slid up further. And further.

“Uhm—” you said, offended, like the tentacle pressing its tip against your clothed pussy was the same as someone bumping into you in the hallway. “Excuse me, I—”

Your mouth fell open. It started moving. Nuzzling. Caressing. Your hands balled into fists. Fuck. Fuck. If you had only read the whole paragraph, you could have had that all afternoon, possibly on orgasm number three by now, and wouldn't have to deal with a bunch of tentacles going bat-shit crazy in your room.

Your head butted the spell book, breath heavy, eyes screwed shut as the tip of the tentacle pressed against your entrance. They should degrade you back to pre-school because—no, even a preschooler wouldn't make such a mistake. And this wasn't even the first major fuck-up of the week. On Wednesday, you had flunked the botany test because you hadn't realized the page had a goddamn back.

In an instant, your head jerked back up. The book—the spell! You turned the page. And there, on the top, it said: Continuation.

You groaned. But not because of that. The tentacle had started rubbing your clit through the fabric.

‘Although the summoned subject is likely not hostile, it is advised to prepare an emergency procedure beforehand and under no circumstances use a closed environment for the summoning.’

Too late for that.

You read on: ‘The spell must be performed in a mental state of complete emotional detachment as tentacle species from realm E.22 have been known to prey on bodily expressions of sexual arousal. If faced with such a creature mid-arousal, retreat or use blocking spell (p. 462).’

Well, fuck. There was no time to check the realm determination table nor learn a fucking arousal blocking spell because that thing between your legs just figured out that it could go beneath underwear.

“No, no, no, no, no—” You reached down your pants and grabbed hold of the tentacle. It was warm to the touch, soft and a little slick. And it was strong. Tensed against your grip, wanted to go back up. Rub against your pussy. And then, it would only be a matter of time until you had a real problem here. So, you did what any reasonable magician would do: You grabbed the waistband with one hand, kept holding down the tentacle with the other, and wiggled out of your pants.

There.

You awkwardly maneuvered onto your side and twisted the lump of fabric around until you were sure the tentacle would be busy for a while finding its way out again. One down, nineteen-ish to go.

And that's when the whole bed moved.

You squealed as another tentacle shot out from the gap. You were dragged across the floor and pulled up, finding yourself floating in the air, right above the portal. It looked like some kraken shit right out of a Pirates movie.

Your hands, balled into fists, flailed helplessly in the air, trying to land a punch. “Hey—let me go!”

Blood shot down and your head starting pulsing in that uncomfortable upside-down throb. You were panting through your attempts to land a hit. Eventually, you gave up. Since this thing didn't have eyes at which you could direct a death-glare, you merely let out a defeated huff.

“At least turn me around, you dickhead.” You crossed your arms.

A lone tentacle came down to your face. You were prepared for anything. But—you didn't expect being smacked in the forehead. Lightly, but still. Your guests really weren't big on manners. It seemed to feel out your face, go down (up) your neck, your chest. It showed some interest in your breasts, fondling them lightly through the fabric of a shirt that was barely wining against gravity. But the tentacle seemed to look for something else. It slid further up, over your stomach, underneath your panties—

“Woah, woah, woah, wait—” You reached up to haul it back. Immediately, a set of arms came out of nowhere and wrapped around your wrists, pulling them back down. And the lone tentacle went on exploring.

“C’mon, dude—don’t. Look, my bad, okay? I'm sorry that I dragged you out of your daily business, I'm sorry I wanted to use you for sex—I'm sorry, okay? I’ll keep my hands off any summoning. I promise.”

You didn't know why you were still talking. There was no way of communicating with this thing. But running your mouth retained you at least a bit of control over the situation. Or so you told yourself.

The tentacle up above tugged at the waistband of your panties. And without further ado, it pulled them up until they were hanging at knee level.

You took a deep breath, head throbbing painfully. There was no getting away. This was happening. Your shirt was in the way, so you didn't see much. But you felt it. Felt the tip on your entrance. Felt it press inside slowly. You mouth fell open, a silent moan on your lips as the tentacle slid inside you all the way.

Then, the whole organism shuddered. Like a hive mind, everything started moving around you, tentacles shivering in the air like eels. In an instant, you were moved into a horizontal position (fucking finally). More tentacles wrapped around your arms, keeping them behind your head, a few others spreading your legs apart. Suddenly, it seemed like the whole network was focused on you. Tentacles hovered in the air above you like antennas of an anemone, their tips twitching almost excitedly. Something was going on here.

The tentacle inside you hadn't moved, yet. But now, it started—flinching? Lapping at something?

“Listen, dude, whatever you're doing in there, it's weird, so—”

To your surprise, it slid back out. It was slick with your wetness. A few tentacles came down to rub themselves against it. You lifted your head. Whenever they touched, another jolt went through the others. And as you watched the procedure, it dawned on you that, accidentally, you had just made a scientific breakthrough. You figured out what they liked to eat.

Without warning, the first tentacle slipped back inside you, started thrusting now. Taken aback, you let out a surprised shout. The sounds were amazing. Your wetness meeting theirs, obscene slick noises filling the room. The tentacles above kept hovering and twitching. Gasping in pleasure, you closed your eyes, let it happen. Fuck it. When would you have a chance at this again? When would another army of tentacles hold you down while you were getting the pounding of your life?

You didn't hold back, let out all the whimpers and moans and cries and more tentacles kept twining around your body, as if encouraging you. It was ridiculous how good it felt to be almost completely enwrapped like that—a blanket of tentacles, a wiggly mass against your skin—and as if the creature felt how much this turned you on, it started thrusting harder.

Little ah ah ahs spilled from your lips, and the tentacles spreading your legs became obsolete, you'd hold them open yourself if it would let you. Would let this thing fuck you until you had a stroke.

“I’m gonna—” was all you brought out before your orgasm hit you. Biting down on your lip, you barely kept yourself from shouting the whole dorm down.

The slick sound intensified, and you weren’t quite sure if you were squirting, or if the tentacle was coming inside you. The bulk of slick arms wrapped around your chest made it hard to see down there. It didn’t matter. It felt wet and warm and good.

Letting your head fall back against a squishy pillow, you groaned with relief. The tentacle pulled out, and something dribbled down your ass.

“Thanks, dude, I really needed that,” you let out, catching your breath.

As if the organism had to deal with its own post-sex bliss, the blanket around you loosened—even so much so that you could wiggle out a little and turn around on your stomach, holding onto a big tentacle like a tree branch. Beneath you, a whole other world expanded. Little planets floated through space, barely bigger than a house. Some had crater-like holes from which the occasional tentacle arm slipped out.

Mesmerized by the fact that you had a fucking galaxy in your bedroom floor, you let your gaze wander over everything the creature wasn’t blocking out with its arms. Big rookie mistake. With a hard pull, you found yourself back at your old spot.

“Okay, okay, I got it, no peeking,” you quickly said, hands raised in a disarming manner, “So—can you let me go?” Chest heaving, you looked up at the forest of appendages floating above you, a lot of them still twitchy. “We had a nice time, right? Guy over there certainly got his fill.” Your head gestured to the lone tentacle sprawled out on your floor, lying in what seemed to be a puddle of its own come.

Holding your breath, you got ready to haul your ass back to safety.

This time, though, the creature didn’t lose any time with another tentacle board meeting. Two of them shot in your direction, wrapped around your ankles, and pulled your legs up—further over your head—until it had you almost folded in half. From your first-row seat, all you could do was watch as another appendage plunged into you. You let out a squeal, and as if this bastard started to anticipate your moves, it pinned your hands above your head.

Stop stop stop stop stop, you begged, your pussy so sensitive it felt on fire. Only now, you saw what a mess it had made—all those juices flowing out of you, starting to run down your stomach. You groaned, struggled against your restraints, and groaned some more but this thing didn’t care. This thing wanted to fuck you and there was nothing you could do about it.

Just as you felt anther orgasm approaching with horrifying force, a violent shudder went through the tentacle inside you. Something flowed your pussy, and eventually started oozing out. The same white substance from before. The tentacle slid out, hauled itself through the air and slumped down on the floor next to the other one.

And something started to dawn on you.

“Are you gonna—” you started, but the words got stuck in your throat. Horrified, you looked around. Counted them. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one. “Is everyone of them gonna—”

The creature answered your unfinished question with another tentacle. A thick one. Thicker than the ones before. It stretched you wide open, penetrated you deeper than you thought was possible. With every hard thrust, it filled you perfectly, brushed spots science didn't even have a fucking name for yet. You’d pass out. You’d pass the fuck out if it kept fucking you like that. Slick come was still oozing out of you, running down your thighs, as the tentacle pushed the rest of it deeper. Locked in position, all you could do was watch and feel your orgasm approach again.

And then, something slithered up your back. Over your ass. Your eyes went wide. A noise broke through your lips, faintly resembling a desperate fuck, and a second tentacle slipped into your ass. You were slick all over, so it pushed inside like it was nothing. Started thrusting. First gently, then harder. Not a single coherent thought was in your brain, and like a broken record, all you got out was fuckfuckfuckfuck as they pounded into you mercilessly, as if your juices were an aphrodisiac.

This was godly. This was both fucked-up and godly and wrong—so wrong—and so, so right—what would your professors say if they knew you used your summoning skills for this? If they knew that you loved getting your holes filled by a creature from another realm, probably breaking every magician ethics code on the way? Fuck, if the whole academy knew. If all your classmates saw you like that. Ass up in the air, limbs bound, pussy nothing but a desperate, come-filled hole clenching down on a tentacle, mouth agape in a silent scream. You let out a whine at the thought, and then another, louder one as they sped up.

Two more tentacles came into view, seemed to wait in line. The thick one fucking your pussy angled itself so that it was brushing your clit with every thrust. And that was it. You came again. Hard. And just when you thought it was too much, just when you thought they’d stop and let you rest, they pounded you harder and harder until the thick one started pulsing and, far away, you felt a familiar warmth inside you. It was surreal, seeing all that liquid spilling out, and between coming your brains out and begging them to stop, you started to laugh because what if they could actually knock you up? But that train of thought got lost when the other one came in your ass. You passed out.

When you woke up, it was already dark out. Your room was lit in the portal's ominous magenta glow. Your first thought, oddly, was if you could somehow teach the creature how to close the blinds. What if people could see from outside? Then, you started regaining a feeling for your body. Everything felt weird, like you had overdone the morning stretch. Limbs tense from being maneuvered into unnatural positions. It took you another minute to realize what was going on. Now, you were floating in the air again, hogtied, head hanging down, legs held open. A long string of your wetness hung from your pussy, dribbling down into the galaxy below. The tentacles a few feet beneath you were slick with come, your panties resting on one of them, and—were those two tentacles inside your pussy? You felt so full. And so good. You had dreamed, you remembered. About coming. Or maybe that were the moments you woke up. Fuck. You were so tired. So fucking tired.

“How much longer?” you let out, voice hoarse. “Please, dude. Please tell me you’re done.” You couldn’t see a lot in the dim light. But there were some tentacles resting by the edge of the portal. More than before. Maybe you could speed things up a bit. Get this over with and then sleep for a week. And then try to forget all about it because if not, you’d do it again. You’d do it again and you knew it. You’d get so fucking hooked on this shit that you’d become the odd cat-obsessed loner but with tentacle monsters. Fuck, you could never, ever do this again.

“Hey—one of you, c’mere!” you called out and somehow, it understood. A lone tentacle appeared before you. Maybe they got attuned to their prey over time. It hovered in front of your face and, for a second, you didn’t quite know how to explain this. But then, you simply opened your mouth. It slipped inside. Teeth—you remembered and tried to keep your mouth open wide while your body was weighing forth and back from the thrusts of the others. It quickly got the hang of how blowjobs worked. When it pushed too deep, you made a gagging noise, choking for air, and somehow, the tentacle readjusted.

After you’ve given them a third hole, things did pick up a bit. It certainly helped that they had spread you so far that you could fit two in each hole at one point. Their come tasted curious. A little sweet. Your whole face was painted after a while and as the whole organism moved to fuck you in missionary again, a few tentacles came down and cleaned you up a little. Overstimulation became your normal state. At one point, you stopped counting your orgasms. They blended into each other, like a continuous high, and you were so far down ecstasy lane that you had stopped worrying about what physiological consequences this could cause.

When the sky started slowly turning blue, the thought that you had once lived in a reality without at least one slimy appendage in each of your holes seemed absurd. The slick coat on your skin was your attire. The warm liquid flowing down your throat your nutrition. Feeding this creature your juices your only purpose.

It had changed positions a few times during the night. Doggy seemed to be a favorite. It also liked holding you up in the air in positions even yoga instructors would shake their heads at. An honorable mention went to the time it had you hanging upside down again, your upper body so far down the portal that you were halfway in a different realm. Who could say of themselves that they had their first anal orgasm while looking down into a galaxy?

At 7:26 a.m., your gaze fell at the clock on your nightstand. Sixteen fucking hours. Your chest was heaving, and you finally had your mouth free again. Your limbs were still held down by arms but by now, they were a comfortable embrace, keeping you safe and secure, moving with your body when it thrashed through its climax. You were so used to them, that now, as they let go one by one, you felt an alarming chill run down your body. Nervously, you looked around. Some of them still let you lie on them like a mattress. But the others had freed you. What was going on?

From below, a single tentacle came. It was gorgeous, you thought—and immediately interrupted yourself—they were all gorgeous. All on your own, you spread your legs as wide as you could and pushed your slippery pussy lips apart. The tentacle slithered inside. With a wistful groan, you let your head fall back. This one went slow. Gentle. It savored. By now, you were so used to ruthless thrusting that this was almost a little dull. But the thickness made up for it. Soon, you felt as full as with the others and you lifted your hips a little and started meeting its thrusts. Wanted it to go faster. Harder. Bring you to your limits, where you felt most at home by now.

“C’mon, dude, that’s all you got?” you teased and from behind, a tentacle smacked your head. “Ow!” You laughed and sped up your movements. It did, too, and soon, the room was filled with those mesmerizing sounds, the only sounds you wanted to hear ever again.

But all of a sudden, you noticed something. Where there were once tentacles upon tentacles looking down at you, only your near-empty room remained. The portal seemed to have halved in size. Most of the tentacles have returned below, into their realm. They ominously floated through space, completely uninterested in you. Only the few holding you up remained.

This was the last one.

“Wait—” you said dumbly as the tentacle sped up, your pussy clenching down on it, “Wait, wait—what are you doing?” It didn’t react, kept on fucking you. A bitter-sweet ache spread through your chest. “No, hey, stop—stop—not yet, please!” A cry escaped you as the tentacle started hitting your g-spot, over and over again. “Please, I—ah, fuck—fuckfuckfuck—stop, please—please don’t—” You were so close again, it wouldn’t take long. But this couldn’t be it. This couldn’t stop, not yet. Not ever. This thing had to keep you, take you down to those little planets, keep fucking you, keep breeding you—

You let out a frustrated groan, about to grab the tentacle and push it back, drag this out a little longer—but then this would end and—fuck, you were so close. The tentacle was, too. You felt it pulse inside you. This would be the last time you’d be filled with its seed. The last time one made you come. The last time this would happen to you.

“No—” You reached forward and grabbed the tentacle in a tight grip. But it was so slippery, it pushed right through your grip—probably loving the additional pressure. You heaved yourself up and moved back, but the tentacle merely wound itself around your leg, pulled you close, and went right back to pounding you. You felt it. Felt it tense up. “Please—please don’t come, not yet, not yet, no—fuck—” You cried out, your whole body convulsing, almost falling off the tentacle mattress. You crashed into your orgasm, eyes screwed shut, holding on for dear life. The tentacle came with you, flooded you with its seed, fucked you through everything until your legs went numb. You were coming for fucking ever. It was good. It was so fucking good and you didn’t want it to end. Prayed that it would keep filling you, keep absorbing your juices—you and this creature, for all eternity.

In the afterglow, you barely realized the ceiling was moving. But you felt your bed's mattress under your back, solid and hard, no comparison to being gently held by dozens of arms. The creature tucked you into the blanket. You grabbed one of its appendages, but it slipped right through your fingers.

“Please stay,” you whispered exhaustedly, “Or take me with you.”

The magenta light slowly dimmed. You heaved yourself up on your elbow with your last strength. The portal was closing. Wistfully, you looked back at it. Felt the soreness in your body, your holes still gaping, come starting to flow out of them.

Just as the portal was almost closed, maybe the size of a plate, a single tentacle came out. It floated over to you and slipped under the covers. Like a snake, it slithered underneath the blanket and found its old spot between your legs. A gasp escaped you as you felt it nudge your pussy. Now, you were the one savoring. It pushed inside. At first, you thought it changed its mind and went for a last round. But it kept pushing, almost meticulously, making sure all of its seed stayed inside.

Then, it retreated and vanished in the glowing hole in the floor.

The portal closed.

Your room was bathed in the morning sunbeams. You fell asleep immediately; next time you looked up at the clock it was noon. Putting a hand up to your forehead, you let out a sigh. Your eyes kept darting to the spot on the floor, as if the portal would open again any second. Suddenly, something dribbled out of your pussy. Flowed all the way down until it soaked the bedsheet where a wet patch was already forming. Slowly, your hand slipped under the covers. The seed was slick between your fingers. And then, you pushed it back. Further and further inside.

Until you felt full again.

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.

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.

Fighting against it

You had decided to try to put up a fight this time, even though truthfully you enjoyed it. As the specialized tentacle pressed against your lower lips you closed your legs tightly. It stretched and reached for your somewhat hidden pussy. Tentacles grabbing either leg. You tried to raise both legs, but it held your left leg down and allowed your right to go up. Pussy open in a different way than just spread legged. The specialized tentacle slid deep inside you, stretching you on it's thickening length until it was about the size of your forearm. The rest of its length was swollen with internal lumps in a series down it. Each knot swelling the girth of the tentacle to a third again its diameter, skin stretched and distorted around them. You could feel the thin tip of it pushing against your cervix, pressing, probing, pushing inside that hole too. It slid in easier than you imagined it might. You could feel it swell inside your cervix, opening you in ways you had never been opened. Something creamy and white was dripping out of you around the tentacle. You weren't sure what it was, but you felt compelled to keep it inside you. Your fingers wrapped around the tentacle and pushed the thick fluid back in your body. Every drop back where it belonged; inside you. It rippled inside you. The creature's come had always had an aphrodisiac effect when it has used you before, but this was different. Before, it had made you desperate to please it; your body working harder for it than any human lover. Trying to impale yourself with it, choking on it, fucking it hard with your ass and pussy. Trying to get it deeper inside you. This time though it made you feel loopy, easy to open. Your mind too. Simple and greedy for it, unconsciously thrusting your body at it. The bulges in it began moving now. You could feel them enter your pussy, sliding up inside until it rested against your cervix and slowly started pushing inside it as well. Another gush of fluid ran down your leg and you felt it push past your cervix. The next one arrived shortly after. After the fourth one you could see your belly swelling. You could even see the tentacle sweeping back and forth inside you, depositing egg after egg. It felt good to have it so deeply inside you and you lost count of how many eggs were in you. It was like being fucked slowly but being full of cock the entire time. So many eggs were in you that you could see dimples on your belly. You could push them around with your hands but you really just wanted to feel the foreignness of being completely filled.

I love each and every Junpei fan <3 we’re truly some of the most miserable people in the fandom and I wouldn’t have it any other way <3

:3

Hello ! ><

Aeyn, she/her, 20, slow updates •́ •̀

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I'm pan/aroace and I write self indulgent things :3 Please feel free to drop a request, but I might not do it. Please understand ^^.

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