it’s been a long while since the both of you have been able to go on a date like this with all the trouble camelot stirred up recently both inside and outside of liones. as a knight of the apocalypse yourself and the leader of your platoon, you’d been dispatched to neighbouring countries to gather intel, leaving lancelot to his own devices in time you’d been absent.

your return to liones was quite impromptu seeing as your mission should’ve kept your platoon overseas longer, but with camelot’s recent attack on the capital, you were forced to abandon the mission and come back to aid any efforts against arthur and his chaos knights.

the fight was long since over by the time you’d returned, and you focused on helping with the damages that occurred throughout the capital. it was a destructive siege and very obviously a power play. arthur knew that liones was weak at the moment of his infiltration, especially since all the knights of the prophecy had yet to be introduced and properly acknowledged.

once most of the hassle had settled down, lancelot was quick to whisk you away from any of your impending responsibilities, inadvertently pushing a lot of them onto the rest of your platoon, much to their chagrin.

“blanket’s ready. get over here” lancelot plops down onto the checkered fabric, patting the spot beside him to beckon you closer. when you sit next to him and set the picnic basket you’d been holding between the two of you, you release a quiet sigh, finally able to relax.

“whew… it’s been so long since we’ve been here like this. that mission took so long, and i’m honestly beginning to think his majesty might hate my platoon.” the complain leaves you in a grumble while you lean your head against his shoulder.

lancelot snorts in response, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side. he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, then deviates to your forehead and eventually down to capture your lips in a loving peck. “you’re so dramatic.”

“but i’m right, though.”

“but you really aren’t.”

the both of you snicker at the banter, and you return his earlier pecks with a few of your own.

“missed me that much, hm?” he muses between your pecks, his hand sliding from your shoulders up to the back of your head so he could kiss you properly.

“well, duh…” you mumble, pulling back momentarily to stare into the depths of his captivating, ruby coloured eyes. “why wouldn’t i miss my favourite boy?”

“my sweet girl, always so clingy” he grins, leaning in again.

you grin at the endearment, your own hand tangling in his hair.

“oh, but you love it when i’m clingy.”

“mmh… that i do.”

he pecks your lips playfully then pulls back to look at you. you’re still the same as he remembered; soft, round cheeks, dark skin that glistens in the sunlight, and deep eyes that hold so much warmth and love.

“you’re so beautiful..” he murmured after a while, thumbing at the soft swell of your cheek. “it’s almost unfair how pretty you are.”

a light feeling blooms in your chest, partly out of embarrassment but mostly out of love. you could see the dilation of his pupils and how soft his gaze turned as his eyes roam your face.

”you’re such a sap all of a sudden. don’t tell me you’ve been hanging out with isolde in my absence?”

“don’t start, woman.” he flicks your forehead, not enough to hurt, and kisses the spot he flicked immediately after to soothe the lingering sting.

a brief silence falls between the both of you as you finally begin to eat, but it doesn’t last too long because you start talking about your travels the past few months and the things and people you’d encountered during your mission. lancelot listens intently as you talk, his eyes soft as he watches your animated gestures while you talk.

as dusk begins to paint the sky in an ombré of pinks and oranges, a few hours later, you and lancelot begin to pack up your picnic basket while you neatly fold the blanket and tuck it underneath your arm.

“this has been fun” you hum in contentment. “we should do this again, preferably after i finish my reports.”

lancelot snorts. “oh, please, you know you’re thankful to not be cooped up writing mountains of reports right now,” he stands up, the picnic basket in one hand and intertwining his free hand with yours. “don’t worry, next time i’ll take you to a really nice forest clearing i found. it’s quiet and hidden and farther away from the city.”

“trying to have me all to yourself, are you? and you call me the clingy one” you tease as he tugs you down the steep hill, being careful so you don’t trip on the way down.

“that’s because you are the clingy one. and you’ve been gone for months, i don’t think it’s out of the ordinary for me to want you to myself uninterrupted.”

you pout at him but don't argue—he wasn’t wrong about you being the clingier one in the relationship, but it’s not like he minded it either. if anything, he enables your behaviour more often than he doesn’t.

the walk back to the city is short and quiet as the both of you simply bask in each other’s presence. there’s a slight buzz in the depths of your stomach—your heart feels so incredibly full with affection, and the citrusy scent of him is a heady cloud on your senses.

lancelot escorts you back to the castle because you still have a lot of work to do and reports to compile as the leader of your platoon that can’t be callously handed off to other people in the platoon. the stroll is slow, though. neither of you really want to part ways and settle on talking numerous detours instead to elongate your time together.

as the castle draws near over the horizon, lancelot slows his steps and you follow suit. his fingers are still twined with yours, squeezing gently. eventually, he stops walking as the doors come into view. “i guess this is where i leave you, pretty girl. try not to overwork yourself again, alright? i’ll kick your ass if you do.”

you roll your eyes at him as you face him properly. “that was one time, lance. and it was a heatwave, you can’t really blame me for that.”

“one time too many—and i remember reminding you to stay hydrated, idiot. but seriously, take care of yourself. i won’t always be around to make sure you’re doing alright.” he releases your hand in favour of pressing your head to his chest, his fingers playing with the stray curls at the nape of your neck.

“yes, yes. no need to mother hen me,” you mutter into the crook of his neck, pressing light kisses there.

he shivers, tightening his grip on the back of your head. “behave.”

he tries to sound stern but you can tell you’ve gotten under his skin and flustered him. you chuckle lightly, tilting your head up to catch his lips in a gentle kiss.

lancelot leans into the kiss and soon deepens it with a slow tilt of his head. it was a lot more passionate than the playful ones you’d exchanged earlier in the day but no less gentle.

pulling away, lancelot peers down at you fondly, his hand slipping from the back of your head to your chin, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. he goes to lean in for another kiss but the sound of footsteps approaching redirects his attention a little bit and upon locking eyes with whoever it was behind you both, his body stiffens.

“…lancelot?” you look up at him worriedly then follow his gaze to see a young girl, probably no older than twelve, standing there, her deep burgundy eyes staring wide at the both of you, almost as if she was in shock.

she’s quite pretty, you note, but find it a bit unusual for a child to be out here of all places, especially with the rapidly setting sun.

“oh, are you lost, dear? where’re your parents?” you ask softly, pulling away from lancelot to crouch down to her level.

she stares at you for a moment and then looks over to lancelot. “who is she?”

lancelot’s jaw clenches and he runs a palm down his face, an annoyed grunt leaving his lips. “did you follow us here, guinevere?”

“who is she, lancelot?” guinevere asks once more, a lot firmer than the first time. her eyes shift back to you, a sudden hostility in their depths which takes you aback and puts your guard up.

“do you know this child, lance?” you stand back up as he tugs you over to his side, placing himself protectively between you and the child.

“it’s… a long story,” he sighs, staring down at the smaller girl with thinly veiled irritation.

“well, i’m all ears,” you cross your arms.

lancelot scratches his nape, his shoulders slouching as he tries to formulate the words in order to not upset you—seriously, where does he even begin to explain this situation?!

with a heavy sigh, he gestures a hand to guinevere. “this… is guinevere, and for some reason, she’s convinced herself that she’s my lover—“

“because i am!” the girl huffs, a frown marring her otherwise soft features.

“okay, okay, so why the hell didn’t you think to tell me about this?”

“i didn’t really know how i was gonna explain it, but i swear i was going to tell you.”

“you still haven’t answered my question lancelot: who is this woman?” guinevere eyes you again, not liking how close you and lancelot seem to be.

“she’s my girlfriend.”

“…your girlfriend?” her tone is flat, clearly displeased with the way you’d been introduced.

“yes, my girlfriend, lover, or however else it’ll take for you to understand that i’m happily taken.”

“y-you..! did… did the kiss we shared mean nothing to you?!” she snaps, taking numerous steps forward until she was standing right in front of lancelot, angry tears welling up in her eyes.

your eyebrows shoot up in surprise and you look to your boyfriend incredulously who in return looks both agitated and irritated.

“the kiss you forced on me, you mean?” he corrects, matter-of-factly. “look, guinevere, i don’t know why you think of me as your lover, and i also couldn’t care less. i have a woman that i love and she’s not you.”

lancelot’s hand trails to your lower back and encircles your hips, his calloused palm grabbing at the plush fat of your hips. “i’d suggest putting this whole fantasy behind you and finding someone your own age. i’m not saying this to be mean or to spite you, but i’m being dead serious when i say that i love this woman with every fibre of my being.”

guinevere’s bottom lip trembles and her words fail her momentarily. she turns swiftly on her heel, muttering something under her breath as she flees, leaving you dumbfounded and lancelot exasperated.

“damn it…” he groans, slumping against you.

you pat his back affectionately. “you did the right thing, lance. it’s important to be stern in situations like that.”

he grumbles something unintelligible against your skin before leaving kisses against the expanse of your neck in remorse. “i’m so sorry you had to deal with that.”

”it’s alright, lance. clearly the situation is a lot more complicated than i thought. tell you what, i’ll finish my things up as quick as i can and we can have a sleepover. and, i’ll even brush your fur if you turn into sin.” you tilt your head back to give him more access to your neck.

he perks up just slightly, nipping the skin gently. “you’ve got yourself a deal, pretty girl.”

the doctor doesn’t spare you a glance, and the most acknowledgment you receive is him beckoning you over with two fingers though his attention remains poured over the notes on a new experiment he’s probably going to have you doing for weeks spanning into months as usual.

your irritation simmers just slightly beneath your exhausted exterior, opting it better to swallow it up and just get this whole thing over and done with. you know how detrimental anything deemed as insubordination within the fatui can be to someone like you who’s as significant as cannon fodder. the doctor is a harbinger and outranks you by far—you’d also rather not have your body subjected to further experimentation in your death. archons know you’d roll in your grave for all eternity if he were to defile you in death.

shuffling over, you stand behind him and peer down at the numerous vials and syringes he had laid out with thinly veiled trepidation.

“doctor?”

he hums noncommittally and holds his index finger up in the air, effectively silencing you for the mean time. flipping through his thick stacks of neatly organized notes, the doctor's long, slender fingers drum against the desk absentmindedly. he taps at his chin, deep in thought before abruptly spinning to face you and grabbing your shoulders tightly. “have you ever felt curious about the human body and its reactions to certain… stimuli?”

“…stimuli?” you repeat back to him almost flatly. this is the reason you were summoned so late? for a topic as mundane as this?

“come now, that attitude hardly befits my most hardworking assistant. you’re much better than this usually—has the late night taken its toll on you?” he tuts gently, almost disappointedly.

you choose not to respond to his jab, instead eying the vial he’d taken into his hand, and an inexplicable unease settles in your chest shortly, seeing as no one else is standing in the lab apart from yourself and the higher ranking fatuus. usually, he’d have a guinea pig at the ready even for more impromptu scenarios like tonight. somehow, the absence of a corpse or someone strapped down and on the verge of dying makes this entire ordeal more concerning as it slowly sinks in that you might be his newest test subject, and you surely hope that’s not the case.

“the human body reacts to stimuli very differently when its sensitivity is thrown askew. i’ve curated a… drug of sorts to help test this theory.”

you nod along, watching with rapt attention as he extracts some liquid from the vial and into an accompanying syringe. “and where is my presence needed for this, doctor?”

“isn’t it obvious? you’re the subject of this experiment. sit, sit.” he steers you towards a chair almost excitedly, forcing you into it. your heart drops to the pit of your stomach.

“why am i the test subject? don’t you need me to record—“

“do you think i am so incompetent at recording my own experiments?” he cuts you off sharply, his lips curling in displeasure.

you backtrack immediately, shaking your head nervously at the downtick in his mood. “of course not, doctor! you usually have me doing it, so i just assumed…”

“the one thing you should never do as a researcher is assume, my dear.”

he rolls up a small cart with the drug he mentioned in different vials next to where you’re seated, and you take notice of how they all have a pinkish tint to them and can infer that the darker the pink, the stronger the dosage.

“strip.”

“pardon me?” your gaze snaps up at him at the sudden command, looking almost scandalized.

“strip out of your coat, or it’ll get in the way. i need your arm, so hurry up. we haven’t all night.”

“…right.”

with great reluctance, you oblige to his request. the cool air of his lab hits the nape of your neck, making you shiver slightly. the cold of snezhnaya is already unbearable at any other time of the year, but even more so during the long winter months. despite the heating within the buildings of the fatui headquarters, the winter chill still manages to creep in and permeate into your bones. you truly wonder how he manages to be so unfazed by this cold considering he grew up under the sun in sumeru.

“you’re quite sensitive, aren’t you?” he observes with a thoughtful hum before breaking out into a wide grin. “good, this is good.”

taking your dominant arm, he runs his thumb over your inner elbow, his nail digging into the flesh ever so slightly. he pulls away shortly after in favour of grabbing a string and a sanitary wipe, and you shift nervously when he returns with everything in tow and gets to work on prepping you for the injection.

“are you afraid of needles?” he muses, bringing the tip of the syringe to your vein. “you needn’t be scared. it won’t hurt, so just sit there prettily and be quiet for me, yes?”

the sting from the needle is brief, but the silence that stretches on from the aftermath is unbearable as no results surface. whatever this drug is, it’s taking its sweet time to give an effect—or it holds no potency whatsoever.

“hm..” dottore frowns as he circles around you, stopping once he’s face to face with you once more. his gloved fingers are cool against your skin as they encase your cheeks within his grasp. “do you feel any difference?”

when you shake your head in disagreement, he drops your face and goes back to his desk. the sound of papers soon fills the stifling silence that falls once more, his broad shoulders face you while he jots the conclusions down on his notes. a few minutes more pass before he approaches you with another syringe, the contents are a slightly darker pink than the other one but not by much.

dottore is careful when doing the procedure again, watching you closely for any visible or subtle signs of change.

it doesn’t take more than five minutes before the nausea begins to hit you as a slow wave of heat creeps through your veins, effectively numbing out the earlier chill you’d felt when you took off your coat.

“i see it’s starting to bear some fruit. how do you feel?” he leans in close—too damn close. the heat from his skin does nothing to quell this sudden heat inside of you. it sets all your nerves ablaze with an indescribable tingling sensation.

“i.. i feel a little warm. what exactly is this drug, doctor…?”

he chuckles, looking over your face. “an aphrodisiac, of course. it’s harmless… mostly.”

you gape at him as the heat in your gut builds—not unbearable, just uncomfortable. “is... is this what you meant by certain stimuli? an aphrodisiac?”

“perhaps,” he helps you up and out of the chair. his touch on your lower back sends goosebumps on your arms despite the layers separating you. “but you’re not done just yet. this is only the first phase of the experiment, and i still have many other uses for you, my dearest assistant.”

he tugs you to an awaiting medical bed, laying you down onto it unceremoniously. the cool material of the bed covering does little to quell the heat that flushes your skin.

“h-how long do you expect to run this experiment for, doctor? is it even safe to administer this more than once? and with high dosages so close to each other?” your voice cracks, and you curse how pathetic you suddenly feel. what on teyvat did he craft this aphrodisiac from, and why is it taking such a hold on you? you’re almost scared to find out how the other dosages—all of which are higher than the two he’s used on you already—will affect you and the durations for any lingering effects.

“that hardly concerns you. now, let’s begin the experiment.”

rounding the bed, his fingers run over your skin gently. it’s laughable, really, how the chill from his fingers and the heat from the drug war within your body, bringing forth a sensation and reaction that has him looking at you like some intriguing specimen.

“i’ve always wondered how women react to stimulation in comparison to men. women typically avoid me so i don’t have opportunities like this come by often.” he rests his fingers at the point just beneath your ear. “tell me, are you ticklish?”

his fingers trail down the expanse of your throat, leaving a feather light trace to the pulse point at the base of your neck connecting to your clavicle. a breathy whimper leaves your lips as sharp tingles shoot down your spine, and you involuntarily squirm away as he goes further down to your sides. his body leans over yours as his fingers dig into your skin, tickling you in a way that leaves your ribs sore.

the squeal you let out is instinctive and your body tries in vain to jerk away from the onslaught, much to dottore’s annoyance. “tsk, didn’t i tell you to sit still? stop moving or i’ll have strap you down,” he clicks his tongue, pinching the fat at your sides in punishment of your disobedience. “you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

you wince at the pinch, and also partly at his threat, forcing yourself to stay in place whilst he continues his assault on your weak spots, mapping out the various areas on your body that give him strong reactions then writing them down for “future purposes”. by the time he’s finished, you’re out of breath, sore, and your eyes have gone glassy with unshed tears that seem to amuse him greatly.

“crying already?” he tuts gently, cupping your face to run his thumb over your under-eyes. “we’ve barely gotten started. just a little more and i’ll compensate you for all your hard work.”

dottore withdraws from you to grab another vial of the aphrodisiac, thankfully leaving just one more left. taking your arm again, he brings the needle back to your vein, shushing any sounds of protest you mustered as the needle sinks into your skin and the contents of the syringe is emptied into your veins once more.

the heat in your gut that had been simmering just slightly explodes almost instantly, overwhelming your senses drastically. forget experimentation, this is just torture! the more he overdoses you with this stupid aphrodisiac of his, the more you want to crawl out of your own skin.

it’s hot. he’s too close.

he’s too close.

it’s too hot.

he’s too close.

it’s too hot.

he’s too close.

it’s too hot.

he’s too close.

you’re starting to feel like a scholar of the akademiya who spent one too many hours inhaling incense. it’s almost as if you’re spiralling down a rabbit hole of intense pleasure while being shackled by the aftermath in the face of its assault on your senses.

ragged pants escape your lips as you twist and writhe—trying hard not to move too much in fear of dottore making good on his threat to strap you down properly like all the other poor souls who have been subjected to his cruel experimentation—all while the doctor watches you with amusement.

“oh, dear, you’re burning up... shall i cool you off?”

he barely gives you any chance to respond as his hands wander down your body and linger at your chest, weighing how heavy your bosom feels in his palms before unceremoniously ripping open your blouse. buttons scatter across the linoleum floors, and the shock comes quickly but fades just as fast. the air that once felt too cool in the beginning now does very little to quench the heat of your skin.

meanwhile, dottore does little to hide the appreciative smile that curls upon his lips seeing you so exposed to him and how utterly pathetic you are—completely at his mercy.

through the fabric of your bra, his thumb circles around your areola, watching as your nipple rapidly hardens and swells to strain against the cotton before pinching the bud cruelly between it and his forefinger.

“doctor...!” you gasp out as your body traitorously arches into his touch while his other hand gives your other breast the same attention.

“oh, you like this, do you? i never took you as the kind of woman to like having her nipples pinched, but to each their own, i suppose.”

he continues to fondle you through your bra for a few moments longer. “this cotton… it’s definitely liyue grown, but the make of this bra is fontainian—quite the taste for lingerie you have. and what a nice plum colour; it gives a nice contrast to your skin and holds your bosom exceptionally well. does this happen to be a push-up bra or are you just that endowed?”

the horror and embarrassment in your eyes at his observations of your undergarments draws a laugh from him—not the low chuckles you’re used too, a full blow laugh at your expense. you swear to the tsaritsa that this might just be the reason you quit the fatui. better to have a bounty on your head than have to look this man in the eye after this whole ordeal.

“aw, don’t look so scared, my dear,” he murmurs, groping and kneading at the fat of your breasts with a twisted look of fascination in his eyes. “the female body truly has its wonders. your breasts are soft and pliant, and they have some weight. if you were to bear a child, i suspect they would grow even more than they are now. say, you wouldn’t happen to be of natlanese descent, would you?”

his fingers hook into the cups of your bra and pull it down carefully, humming thoughtfully at the sight of your exposed bosom. a sharp whine escapes you as he leans down, laving his tongue against a stiff bud, and the feeling of his saliva sends tingles shooting down your spine in a way that feels too much yet not enough at the same time. your hands fly to his hair, tangling in the blue strands in attempt to push him closer? pull him away? you’re honestly not too sure on whether you want him to stop or not because for all your reservations, the unbearable ache between your thighs is calling for some release, and he’s the closest thing to helping you at the moment. you hope that he’ll put you out of your misery and administer an antidote—if he even has one made.

while he busies himself with sucking at one breast, his other hand continues to tweak your other nipple, drawing out soft moans from your lips that would have any fatuus on the night patrol stop to do a double take. but for some strange, twisted reason, the thought of getting caught in such a precarious situation with your superior officer sends a fresh wave of arousal that’s undoubtedly soaked through the fabric of your panties. the way your thighs press together, however, doesn’t go unnoticed.

“oh, my sweet, sweet assistant. you’re getting needy, aren’t you? shall i help relieve you some of that pressure?” he releases your nipple with a wet pop before standing upright once more, rounding the bed again to stand in front of you this time.

he slots himself between your thighs, spreading them up and out as his eyes zero in on the damp patch forming at the crotch of your white pants—now you truly curse whoever designed the uniform the oprichniki wear and why most of the women were given white pants.

dottore doesn’t let you mull over this for long as his thumb presses firmly against the slick spot, rubbing back and forth. instinctively, your hips bucking into his touch and your breath hitches at the absurdity of it all.

“look at that, you’ve almost soaked through your uniform with how wet you are already,” he mused, giving you a light smack on your clothed cunt. “nasty girl.”

“oh, fuck—!”

“watch that mouth of yours, girl.” he tuts, his thumb continuing to rub against your cunt in maddeningly slow circles. a moan—one far too loud for your liking— rips its way out of your throat. you slap a hand over your mouth, eyes flitting nervously to the door while dottore chuckles, not minding it in the slightest. if the two of you are to get caught right now, he could just say that whatever’s happening is for scientific research (which it kind of is), and even if this does reach her majesty’s ears, he technically wouldn’t be the one penalized. besides, a little bit of fraternization never hurt anyone!

“you’re enjoying this, aren’t you? the aphrodisiac hasn’t worn off yet?”

his slender fingers creep up to the buttons of your pants and deftly undoes them, pulling down your zipper and yanking them straight off you. he whistles lowly as he examines the extent of your arousal made visible on your panties.

“matching set? how cute. you know, i’ve heard cotton underwear is good for women—it’s much more breathable, they say! and, given the high quality of liyue’s cotton, these must be extremely comfortable, yes?”

his voice is patronizing—mocking even as he resumes his ministrations of touching you, although this time, his thumb finds your clit, circling the sensitive nub over your panties. another gush of arousal coats the fabric, creating a plethora of noises that has heat creeping up your neck—and it’s not the aphrodisiac’s fault this time.

“you’ve such a messy cunt for somebody who acts all composed and organized. do you like it when i touch you like this? does it feel good?”

your words fail you as he tugs your panties to the side, exposing your drooling cunt to the cool air of his lab. his middle and ring fingers tease your hole just before plunging into you, and your back arches embarrassingly quickly off the medical bed and into his touch, prompting him to flatten his free hand against your abdomen to hold you in place.

as his fingers begin to pick up a steady rhythm, nothing too slow but not too fast either, his thumb continues to rub small circles on your clit, creating a symphony of moans, breathy curses, and obscene squelches that fill the otherwise silent room—and you really couldn’t care less about being loud at this point. not when his fingers are melting your brain in such a way that you find it laughable for him to have even insinuated that he has no prowess with women when he’s this good with his hands. 

then again, he’s not what most would consider conventionally attractive—personality wise anyway. you may have your reservations about him, but with the few times you’ve seen him without that infernal mask, you can’t lie on his name and say that he’s unattractive!

dottore curls his fingers upwards again, brushing against your g-spot and effectively making your eyes roll back into your skull. “t-too much…! doctor…!”

“shh... just let it happen. you need it don’t you? or would you rather i stop?”

you shake your head vehemently, your hand gripping his wrist as you grind down against his fingers, taking them deeper despite the stretch. “good girl. that’s a good girl.”

his praise makes you clench around his fingers, tears pooling in your eyes. “tsk, crying again? are you a toddler?” he pinches your clit between his thumb and forefinger like he did to your nipples moments ago, a high-pitched yelp escaping you. despite his reprimand, there’s a clear satisfaction written on his face watching as tears stream down your cheeks from the aphrodisiac working to overstimulate you and how mean he was being with your body.

“you’re so pretty when you’re pathetic like this, my dear girl. i should have done this sooner,” he coos as his fingers quicken their pace, bringing you closer to the edge and it doesn’t take long for that subtle pressure to start build at the base of your spine.

“there it is… are you going to cum for me?” he leans forward, his hand at your abdomen moving upwards to wrap around your neck, not choking but putting enough pressure to let you know that he has way too much power over you—not just in this moment but in general too.

the muscles in your toes begin to cramp with how hard your toes curl in anticipation of your release only to have it ripped away as dottore pulls his fingers away. he silences your whine of protest by shoving the fingers that’d just been toying with you into your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself on the leather of his gloves.

“aw, you really wanted to cum, hm? that’s too bad isn’t it?”

and then he’s pulling away entirely to pick up his notes, busying himself with recording that entire interaction while you stare up at the ceiling with a mix of frustration, horror and embarrassment churning in your gut even as your body—traitorous as ever—buzzes and tingles at the ghost of his touch on your skin.

you push yourself upright slowly still unable to really wrap your head around what just transpired between you and the second of the fatui harbingers. your earlier pleasure-addled state induced by that stupid aphrodisiac begins to wear off and you come to the realization that you’ve just threatened your entire livelihood and compromised yourself by letting him have his way with you like this.

dottore observes you, jotting down your reaction and body language as if this was all still just an experiment to him and not a breach on the line that divides you as his subordinate.

“it’s time for the final part of the experiment but first allow me to say this has been most enjoyable,” he saunters over, syringe in one hand and your arm in the other. “but we do need to wrap this up before we’re met with any unwelcomed guests.”

“we really shouldn’t, doctor... this isn’t appropriate,” you voice shakily, the protest sounding weak even to your own ears. dottore, on the other hand, is clearly unimpressed with your lacklustre attempt to put a stop to his very much inappropriate behaviour, his grip on your arm tightening.

“does it look like i care? i’ll advise you to shut that mouth of yours and take whatever i give you like a good little pet. after all, you’re my assistant—basically my property, and i’ll use you in any way i see fit.”

you gape at his audacity and barely have anytime to object to his words before he shoves the needle into your arm, much more callously due to your unintended provocation.

the aphrodisiac hits your system quickly due to its stronger dosage, and the heat is dizzying, almost nauseating. dottore holds you up when you start to tip forward, though his grip on your arm remains painfully tight. and as he lays you back against the bed, looking very irritated, you already know that whatever he has left in store won't be as enjoyable as before.

“doctor—“

“speak again, and i will gag you.”

your mouth snaps shut at his icy tone while he manhandles you, removing the remaining garments you still have on with movements less than gentle. you shift uncomfortably against the medical bed’s material; your skin doesn’t take well to the new sensations courtesy of the aphrodisiac’s effects.

you don’t even register dottore stripping out of his own clothes until he hovers over you, that frown still etched deeply onto his face. you swallow nervously at the sheer size of him, both his monstrous cock and the intimidating stature of his taller form. given his current mood, you wouldn’t put it past him to just go into it without any prep (not like you would need it with how wet you are anyway, but it’s still a terrifying thought to take a dick as big as his without being sufficiently prepared first).

your body shivers beneath his as he drags the tip of his cock through your slick folds, his jaw clenched tightly. he’s mad at you, and archons, he looks so incredibly sexy with that vein jumping at his temple. you’re not sure if it’s your pussy or the aphrodisiac talking, but one—or both—of them isn’t lying. even with the mask on, he’s so unfairly attractive.

a soft cry leaves you when he spits once, then twice on your puffy clit, smearing it into your arousal with his cockhead. “filthy fucking slut... you really think you’re in any position to make demands here? when you’re basically weeping for my cock?”

you whimper, clenching around nothing about how deliciously good he sounds with that angry rasp in his voice. “i’m sorry, d-doctor, please forgive my impertinence...”

“oh, you’re going to be sorry, alright. keep your legs spread and don’t you dare close them,” he grunts lowly, making you hold yourself open for him whilst he slaps his tip against your clit.

he toys with you for a while longer until cunt’s sopping wet, and he’s coated in it. then he’s notching the tip in your hole and pushing in, making you take him inch by treacherous inch. “so tight... you’re a virgin, aren’t you? haha, how utterly delightful. i’m almost appeased. almost.”

his fingers grip your face to tilt your head enough to meet his gaze. “open your mouth.”

you oblige immediately, parting your plump lips only for him to spit into it. “swallow.”

and so you do, earning a pleased smirk. “good girl.”

he bottoms out shortly after, and the stretch is intense with you being a virgin. he hisses through clenched teeth at the tight squeeze of your pussy. “what a snug fit... relax a little, would you?”

his hips begin to move, pulling back until only his tip remains nestled inside you before promptly thrusting back inside you, ripping a moan from your throat. he’s so big you can see the outline of his dick as it spears into you.

his thrusts start off humble, but they gradually increase in pace, hammering into you at a speed you didn’t even know was possible. he bullies his cock so deeply into you that it doesn’t take that long for him to find your g-spot, hitting it over and over.

“ngh...!” your back arches before you can catch yourself, but dottore is quick to pin you back down.

“you really love disobeying me, hm? i’ll fix that attitude,” he mutters, his palms digging into the back of your knees as he pushes them up to your chest, folding you into a mean mating press and pinning you to the medical bed simultaneously.

“fuck—! too deep, it’s too deep...!” you cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders while your body wars with itself between squirming away or bucking into his thrusts.

“i don’t care. take it,” he huffs, capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss that’s all tongue and spit because he’s filthy like that and loves to know that he can force you to drink his spit like it’s the last oasis on teyvat’s surface.

his thrusts don’t let up, almost as if he’s determined to fuck you into the bed, and it really doesn’t help that his body heat is fogging up your brain. you feel the coarse hairs on his pelvis grinding deliciously against your neglected clit and sob out at the shock that shoots down your spine.

your nails rake down from his shoulders to his bicep, digging into the skin to ground yourself. he hisses at the pain but honestly doesn’t mind it—if anything, it spurs him on further, and before you know it, you’re toppling over the edge; thankfully, he doesn’t stop this time around as you make a mess on his cock, babbling dumbly as your orgasm rocks your body.

even as your eyes roll back and your body locks up, he continues to fuck into you, breathing heavily as he watches your face contort in ecstasy. he shifts to take a nipple into his mouth, sucking on it so hard you'd think milk would start squirting out any minute.

“fucked dumb already... that aphrodisiac was strong, huh?” he coos, words slightly muffled by your nipple as he finally begins to feel his balls drawing up, signalling his own pending release. so what does he do? he goes rougher, his hips slapping into yours so hard that the squelching of your pussy could probably be heard from the other side of the hall.

you bite down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from getting any louder than you are now even as the overstimulation of being fucked through the first proper orgasm of your life builds up in your abdomen again.

“haah—such a supple body...” dottore groans as his mouth leaves your nipple, saliva connecting you to him. “i need to see how it’ll look pregnant. you’ll let me test that on you, right? you’ll let me fill you up and breed you, won’t you? for research?”

that should’ve set off alarm bells in your head. getting you pregnant? what on earth is he thinking?! but you can’t deny the appeal of having him finish inside you, the appeal of being filled so thoroughly...

your cunt squeezes him again, conveying your answer for you. “oho? is that a yes?” he leans over you, cupping your face in a manner that’s almost tender.

“just imagine it... a child with my features and yours. would they be darker than us both, or would they be lighter? would they take up your hair texture? if they’re a girl, would she gain your physique?”

he leans back now, pressing a palm against the bulge of his cock, and then trails it higher to rest on where your uterus is, already envisioning how you’d look swollen with his child or children or how heavy your tits would be with milk.

would it taste good? would you produce more if you carried more than one child? maybe he’ll try to see if he can get you to breed him a set of twins.

archons, the idea of that has him salivating, and before he knows it, he’s pumping spurt after spurt of his seed deep into your pussy, grinding his hips just right against your cervix. you whine out pathetically as the warmth floods you and everything crashes down as you hit another climax, but this time, the tension coils in your bladder, flushing out a clear liquid against his pelvis and your thighs.

dottore watches in fascination as your body convulses before going limp beneath him. he pulls out slowly, observing how his cum trickles out slowly of your puffy hole to mix with your own release and then running down to the curve of your ass. maybe he’ll try anal next time too... after pitching the idea to you, of course!

...though, you won’t really have any other option but to say yes, he has his ways of making sure of that.

“that concludes this experiment,” he sighs, swiping a finger through the mess before bringing it up to his lips, tasting the mix of your releases. “hm... not the best flavour, but it’s got an appeal, i suppose.”

he moves off you to record everything in his notes, leaving you to catch your breath momentarily. exhaustion begins to creep in slowly as your eyes flutter closed. you can hear him moving about, but no longer have any strength left to do anything but just lay there.

“sleeping already, dear girl? that won’t do at all. we still need to guarantee that you’ll bear my child, and i’ve got quite the eager helpers, too.”

your eyes open and you swear that aphrodisiac has some kind of hallucinogen because now there’s more of him?! and they’re looking at you with interest and intentions far from good.

fuck, you’re screwed.

“don’t worry, dear girl, we’ll take good care of you. after all, you’re to be our woman, whether you like it or not.”

and not to mention the insane notion of him remaining in this tepid country whose u-20 team is so laughable that he’d rather play with rookies from a college team. at this point, he’d rather switch sides and just join the blue lock program instead. at the very least, there would be someone worthy of his time.

“are you clowns going to ask proper questions relating to soccer or are you just going to keep wasting my time by spouting the same nonsense? if it’s the latter, you might as well save me the hassle and end things right here.”

the look on mr. dabadie’s face — bless his heart — is one that screams utter terror. in an effort to placate the young soccer prodigy, he calls for a brief recess to allow everyone to stretch their legs.

sae grumbles to himself as he exits the conference room, his eye catching yours from where you’re standing by one of the corners.

you wait a few moments, briefly glancing at the reporters then to the other fans gathered in the room before discreetly slipping out. you find yourself wandering the halls for a brief moment before being pulled into a secluded hallway.

sae looks less than pleased to still be here, but his face is a lot more relaxed compared to how it was back on stage. he pulls you against him, laying his head on your shoulder with his arms snug around your waist.

you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face at his cat like behaviour. “everything alright, dearest?”

he lets out a soft scoff, large hands trailing down to grope the fat of your ass while he leaves a chaste kiss to the juncture of your neck. “what do you think? of course not.”

you busy yourself with finger combing his hair, watching with adoration at how quickly he succumbed to your comfort and let the stiff set of his shoulders loosen until his weight dropped against you. “mmh… feels good, amor.”

you let a quiet laugh slip as he works his way up your neck, leaving soft kisses until he reaches your jaw, then higher up until he’s peppering your face with kisses. his hands busy themselves from groping your ass to squeezing your soft, plush tummy and thick thighs.

he absolutely cannot get over her wonderfully pliable you are underneath his touch. sometimes he feels like he’s dating a marshmallow— one that’s equal parts adorable and a pain in his ass (affectionate).

and while he might try to act all aloof in public, the minute he gets away from the spotlight and has you in his arms, he’s the touchiest guy ever. sometimes you wonder if you’re dating the same guy that just disparaged the japanese u-20 team on live television for the whole nation— possibly even the whole world— to see without any remorse.

but in the moments when he picks up a bit of sass with you, you’re quickly reminded that you in fact are dating sae itoshi.

“sae, they’ll be looking for you soon—“

he cuts you off with a dissatisfied grunt, cupping your face firmly in his palms, squishing up your round cheeks even further. “they can wait a little longer. i need this.”

and then his lips are on yours, soft and slow at first as if it’s the last time he’ll get you to himself to be able to love you like this given how often his career separates him from you, you’d say it almost is.

you don’t resist and lean into the kiss, letting him take the lead. he’s gentle at first, then he’s not.

he ravages your lips— biting, sucking and licking until you’re sure your lips are swollen, raw, and possibly bleeding.

he lets you up for air, but it’s barely enough when he pulls you back in for more.

“sae— baby—“ you keep trying to protest against his lips as the clicking of heels begins to grow suspiciously close.

“mmh.. just a little more— ow..!”

he pulls back with an annoyed glare, one hand leaving your hip to rub where’d you’d just pinched. “what’s your issue, huh?”

you want to quip back with something sassy, but you’re momentarily distracted by the way your gloss is smudged all over his pink lips, painting them in a plum colour. “you’re so annoyingly attractive.”

he deadpans at you, genuinely debating on smacking you upside the head. “idiot.”

he leans back down, holding you against him with a sigh. despite the fact that your intuition is telling you to return back to the conference hall, you can’t bring yourself to leave him just yet, so you let him have the moment.

“mr. itoshi, we’re ready for you back on the— oh…”

you both freeze like deers caught in headlights as a reporter rounds the corner. a tense, awkward silence follows shortly after, but sae has no intention of pulling away.

“what the hell are you looking at? i’ll be back when i decide, so piss off.”

the reporter hurries away, no doubt already formulating rumours to spread. there goes your hopes for a soft launch.

⟢ 【 𝐎𝐍𝐄-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒 】

✒ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞 ⊹ il dottore ﹐ ﹙5.4k words﹚

SYNOPSIS﹕ working with the doctor as an assistant is a strenuous task in and of itself; being the object of his curiosity, however, has some of its perks. ⸝⸝ warnings﹕ heavy smut.