ickadori - Tumblr blog

ickadori · 1 day

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crying because whenever i go to the club i dont get to skip the line, but when my pretty friends come we get in immediately 💀 i would have the fffffattest unrequited crush on sukuna and he would just be fucking all my pretty friends, thats why i like the characters like yuji, yuta, and choso 😭

personally, if that happened to me, i would have shot the club up, but that’s just me 🤷🏼

sukuna is…sukuna is such a bastard. i hate that irredeemable man!! unrequited crush on sukuna is nasty work.

because he would 100% know that you have a crush on him!! crushes aren’t new to him, he’s been getting googly eyes, shy glances, giggles, and love confessions ever since primary school, he can spot a person with crush miles away.

he probably thinks it’s funny how dejected you look when he purposefully flirts with your friends, might even order a round of drinks for them, conveniently forgetting that you’re a part of their little group, too. he stands back and watches you frown and sigh and sink down into your seat, likely already used to this kind of treatment when you go out with your friends.

you’re not ugly, you just have a habit of attracting friends that completely overshadow you, it happens. not to him though, heh.

when he spots you standing in line with your girls, pulling at this and tugging at that, primping here and there, he always has to bite back a grin and swallow a laugh. you’re all dolled up. you always are, it’s one of those shitty fancy clubs after all, but he can tell you’ve put in extra effort today.

your usual fly-aways are smoothed down, eyebrows tweezed or waxed or whatever hell people do nowadays, lashes curled and lips plump, and you’re showing more skin than you ever had. you’re getting looks from the other guys in line -you always do, but you never seem to notice it. probably because you’re always watching him like a hawk- and two of them have already tried to strike up a conversation with you.

well those fucks aren’t getting in here tonight.

he figures he should give you something, half of a crumb to keep your attention and in turn keep his monthly amusement, and when you finally reach the front of the line, he gives you the eye contact you’ve been itching for since you left the house tonight.

“you ladies back again? ‘m starting to think that you’re just coming here to see me.” a lazy smirk settles on his face, and he keeps his gaze on you as he speaks, not able to keep the laugh at bay as he watches you flounder over your words.

one of your friends speaks up, and he can’t be bothered to pay it any attention, not when you look like you’re ready to combust already. “you look different,” he says and gives a faux quizzical look. “you change your hair?”

“oh! u-uh, yeah, i did!” you blurt out how you had styled it that night, and how hard it had been to get it just right, and how you weren’t too sure about it, and fuck you just didn’t know when to stop, did you?

“i like it - suits you.”

you stop mid sentence.

he gives you a slow once over and grins again.

“well, you have fun tonight, gorgeous.”

#++ asks #yuta kisses monsters #his breath probably stinks #he’s up there with getou #they’re tied first place for stinky mouths

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ickadori · 1 day

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welt jing yuan and dan feng have me in such chokeholds it’s insane 😞

idk who dan feng is, i stopped playing right after i met blade and defeated the deer boss!! but i like old man welt 🙂‍↕️ someone gave me the ick with jing yuan but i used to like him too 😭😭 i wanna play in his hair

#++ awwdrey

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ickadori · 1 day

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LUOCHAAAAAAAAAA

luocha the man that you are

#i loveeeee luocha!!#him and svarog and welt and pela and himeko #you make me wanna get back into hsr

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ickadori · 1 day

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i think he’d be the kind of tattoo artist that everyone wants to go to but is too nervous to - he really only gets ‘seasoned vets’ who’re damn near tatted from head to toe, and the newbies with virgin skin make sure to steer clear of him because he just looks so mean when they walk through the door, and they’re sure he’ll live up the face when they sit down in his chair and flinch and hiss when the needle first hits their skin — he must have no patience for newbies, they think? especially if they don’t handle pain well.

but that couldn’t be further from the truth. sukuna loves when a blank canvas parks their ass in his chair and stares at him with nervous, fluttery eyes. he likes to flash them a grin and watch them get even more nervous, albeit for an entirely different reason now, and he especially likes when they squirm and twitch under his needle gun because it gives him a reason to grip at their thigh or arm or whatever it is that grabbed his attention when they walked through the door and hold them tight.

“hey, you wanna fuck up your tattoo or are you gonna sit still and pretty for me?”

and they always give a shaky nod followed by a shaky breath as they try their damndest to keep still - it never works, because even if they can keep the reflexive flinches to a minimum, they surely can’t keep from rocking in his chair and squeezing their thighs together.

and that’s fine, because he knows a way to fix that, too.

trade worker sukuna has always been in the back of my mind though!! like electrician, oil rig worker, construction worker, anything that has to do with him using his hands and getting them dirty is a job that i can see him in.

OR A MECHANIC!!!! I LOVE A MECHANIC!!! ahahahahahahah

thinking about sukuna's potential professions if he were a human..... so far i came up with corrections officer, cop, and/or tattoo artists

@ickadori any opinions?

#bouncer sukuna is a vibe #LMAOOOOOO #he gives the dudes problems every time #them bastards don’t ever get in on time 😭😭#nice sukuna let’s the pretty girls skip the line #slime bag sukuna frisks them down and tells them its protocol bc of all the ‘criminal activity’ lately #bro you ARE the criminal #if he sees you dancing and getting too handsy with some guy #he’s throwing the guy out for some bs reason #hehe

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ickadori · 3 days

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bloodhound starring yuuji itadori.

content warning: no pronouns used, but reader is implied to be dfab.

reader is dealing with their period/pms.

roughhousing/fighting (they are training), scent kink, yuuji and reader are 18+, sukuna is here too yuuji. funky (very slight) mind-control/subtle influence aspects. perverted thoughts. reader is annoyed by everything. no penetration/sex. yuuji smells you ovulating lmao? begging (from yuuji). dry humping. idk i was just writing shit and the plot got outta hand.

Yuuji’s changed since Sukuna came along.

Not something you acknowledged at first - of course, it would be within reason to anticipate some degree of pushback from the curse. A never before seen bond between human and … less-than-benevolent spirit was sure to have some stubborn aftereffects. It seems that little whisper of a king took care to extend his influence more permanently than you’d appreciate, frankly.

Yuuji’s senses have been unnaturally keen as of late. Not the ‘notice your new haircut’ kind of attentive - that natural knowledge that comes with closeness - but,

eerily observant. Sukuna’s cohabitation of Yuuji’s body seemed to have bolstered his olfactory systems in bizarre ways. Or maybe the curse had just gotten attached to the scent of your flesh.

Like when he noticed when you ran out of lavender shampoo, you started using citrus. Or when he shouted in front of ‘Gumi and Nobara about how you definitely changed your perfume. Weird shit. Mr. Paying-Too-Much-Attention just tried to brush it off.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was keeping tabs on you. He tried to be completely normal otherwise - even apologized about the perfume; though Megumi and Nobara ensure you never hear the end of it.

But he’s doing it again right now. In the lull of your training, he seems stunned for a moment; seemingly overtaken by the presence of something around him. When you ask ‘what?’, he responds with a question.

“Do you smell that?” He huffs the air like he’s starved for it, the genuine curiosity bouncing around in his eyes confounding more than it intrigued. His eyes are half-lid, dogged and low, like a bloodhound taking index of nearby quarries. He’s paused your flow, stopped your energy, and besides; “The only thing I can smell is you.” You scowl. You stand with your arms akimbo, lips subtly quirked in irritation. He looks gagged by that response, but keeps breathing deep; lids fluttering delicately to half-lids.

“Yuuji.” You go to cross your arms, glaring daggers. “Yuuji, c’mon, I need you to focus.” “Mmn." His nose wriggles; it's a little cute. "But it smells so good… You sure you didn’t bring food in here? I can’t focus with that- ah - smell.” He seems labored by it, but it’s not so strange for Yuuji to be incredibly dramatic about most things. “It smells like…mhn.” Failing to describe the scent, you rapidly find yourself disinterested in his little moment. But he’s insistent on having it.

He licks his lips til’ they shine under the fluorescent, fanged teeth poking from his upper lip as he makes a face. A brutal, not-quite-smile, then something else, reserved as he retained the barest hint of control. He looked feral, like a wolf twitching with pent up aggression, holding out for the fawn to tottle past.

You occasionally envied his inclination towards the eccentric- frankly freaky sometimes- but sadly, at present you lacked the patience. You’re not playing games this week, and definitely not today.

It feels like everything and everyone’s been pissing you off for like half the week. Nobody seems to be on the right timing - no, not even Nobara, who seems more to your speed even when you’re in a bad mood with the rest of them. Nothing happened (you think) to make you feel angry, this pent up, but you think the others have noticed and politely adjusted their behavior. Giving you more space during breaks, keeping conversations to polite banter and short chats, getting you snacks…

Oh, now he’s starting to make you a little hungry. That’s what you think it is, that low simper in your belly as your vexation grows; tired of his antics. “Stop fucking around, man. I know this shit comes easy to you - or whatever - but I’m not letting you get me behind on training. Stand up.” The demand in your voice doesn’t seem to inspire motivation. Rather it just makes him annoyed, his brows now furrowed as he (bordering on obsessively) sniffs the air. Gets a whiff of something beautiful. Like blood pumping through veins, decadent, succulent, dripping, and raw. Rubs a bit of drool from his lips.

Sukuna’s been chittering in the time you weren’t. A faint locust buzz crescendos into airplanes flying overhead, a mantra tittering in the back of his head over and over again.

It’s you. It’s you, It’s you, It’s you, It’s you. Sukuna didn’t have to tell him that, really - he’s not that dumb - but forgive him for wanting to pretend like you’re not making him tent his sweatpants. He’s been smelling you all week - and after that argument with you and the gang on Tuesday, apparently nobody else noticed anything had changed. Granted, it’s not like he hates it; quite the contrary, actually…

You smell too good. Like a forbidden delicacy; savory and not too sweet. Oh, if only he could get you on his tongue. The thought is as foreign as it is tantalizing. He’s quick to assume Sukuna has something to do with it - but when he’s still having those thoughts when Sukuna hasn’t spoken to him in days, he’d think it irresponsible to not take some accountability for it. He scowls to himself, glancing at you in his periphery as you practice your striking form.

(You dance through the air, the power in your thrust brought forth from the entirety of your body; each muscle, moving in perfect sync. The more you work yourself up - the stronger the scent of you gets. It’s like a pheromone, wafting irritatingly through the space, driving him fucking mad -)

“Your yearning is pathetic.” Yuuji’s mouth goes dry as Sukuna’s mouth splits open a space behind his ear; but you must not hear him - too busy slicing through nothing. “I’ve never understood playing with your food. If you’re strong enough to take the sorcerer - they’re yours to be had.” He reflexively goes to shut him up.

You’ve barely wanted to be near him all week. Or any of the gang, really. You’ve been acting differently, too. Quicker to anger and cutthroat, more territorial - less affectionate. You’re only training together because you pressed him for it, like you were dead set on showing him up.

He thinks you’re doing fine. (Sukuna thinks it’s cute how hard you try).

You step too close and Yuuji’s head snaps to you on cue, and for a moment you think something’s wrong. He’s perched low down, searching you. Considering you, staring you up with that look. You recognize it - better suited to a battlefield and carnage - but it’s good to know he’s finally paying you attention. A full-minded, beady-eyed focus, as if you were a spirit in need of exorcism. He looks hungry for it.

You shuffle back reflexively, too wired to go down to some low-blow. “Oh? You ready to get back to it then?” You resume your offense, leaning into your stance as you watch Yuuji stagger to his legs almost drunkenly; and yet not taking his eyes off you. He balls his hands up into fists, feet shifting into position. “Yeah. I think m’ready. If you are.” His curtness is greatly appreciated, though you can’t help but quirk your brow at his change of pace. You squat lower, tighten your grip on your training weapon.

You push in at the same time. The point of contact - his fist and your naginata - disappears in a void of darkness. Tendrils of black jut out in all directions, and all you hear is the crrrr - ACK! of your wooden instrument; split clean in two as the ‘sharp’ end goes flying and leaving you with the blunted shaft. He’s on top of you as soon as you recover, reaching forward with a quick jab you barely dodge.

The sweat runs off your forehead as you dart backwards, swiftly slamming the wooden handle down into his skull. The naginata cracks into nothing. He is hardly winded.

He reaches out for you and you dive to the side, throwing up your arm to shield your chest before Yuuji nearly caves it in.

“-shit!”

You’re gasping, nearly falling on your ass as the force of Yuuji’s kick knocks the air out of your lungs.

“- ah, fuck -”

There’s a feeling besides fear, there. A sudden shuddering in your limbs and a faintness in your head that makes you drop low to the ground, your legs wobbling ever so slightly,

before they give, the blood rushing away from your head as a new pain blooms deep within your stomach. It joins the one in your chest, tormenting you.

Yuuji’s on top of you when your vision returns from black (did you close your eyes? You hadn’t noticed), half concerned and half… well -

He’s got you pinned to the training mat below, weight audaciously pressing into your stomach as he plants himself firmly on top of you. There’s something hard down there, jabbing insistently into you that perplexes you for only a second; until his face tells you everything to know.

His gaze is hazy, like he’s coming off that high but not quite - got your arms pinned above your head even if he no longer needs to use that kind of force. His face is red, blushed from ear to ear, and your analysis is momentarily interrupted by his voice cutting through the silence.

“Well, I won,” He huffs, rocking his hips a little. “Don’t I get a prize? Y’know - for winning?” He leans more to your level. You’re in no rush to buck him off - the pressure doesn’t feel that bad; actually.

"What?"

Your voice is breathy and incredulous when you fully come to.

“You want a fucking cookie or somethin’?” To your amusement, he nods excitedly. One of his hands leaves yours to slowly trail down your front. That focus still hadn’t lifted from him, his attention concentrated solely on the line he’s driving down your stomach.

“Yeah, something like that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ JJK/BANNER ART by gege akutami

all content written by me @ciematis, is owned by me, and you are not allowed to repost or translate my works. don't put my shit into ai generators, don't steal my shit and put it on wattpad. thank you.

#++ recs #yuji sniffing me is #monumental 🤧#I LOVE A GOOD SCENT KINKKKKKKKK #i feel like yuji would love you fresh out the gym - xtra sweaty 🙂‍↕️

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ickadori · 3 days

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++ 𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍

[cws] fem reader. durge reader. noncon oral. imprisonment -> aradin is your ‘pet’.

“Someone’ll come for me, and they’ll have your fuckin’ head when they do.”

“Who? Your dead comrades? I didn’t peg you as smart enough for necromancy, Aradin.” Your fingers smooth over soft silk, the fabric feeling foreign from your months spent in blood and grime crusted rags.

Finally making it to Baldur’s Gate after spending day after day in the wilds nearly brought you more joy than a fresh, messy kill did…nearly. Your first stop had been a proper clothing store rather than some merchant on the side of the road selling pillaged clothing, and your next had been to the Sorcerous Sundries, which had brought you to Aradin and his loathsome mouth.

And that’s how you found yourself here - deep underground in a forgotten haven that was in dire need of a few renovations.

“Even if you were capable enough to rise a dead army, they’d hardly prove themselves to be formidable against me.” The man, currently spellbound and unable to move from his spot on the bed, had seen firsthand the horrors you were capable of committing with barely any spent energy. “I think you know that more than anyone.” You twist and turn in the mirror, silently admiring the way the floor length gown flows with your movements.

“So? You’re just gonna keep me here in this fuckin’ pisshole, is that it? You godsdamned Bhaalist fucks.”

“Would you rather I keep you in a shallow grave?” You turn from the mirror and slowly make your way to the bed, eyes falling on the furious expression painted on his features. It’s the only emotion you’ve seen on him since the moment you met him screaming for help at the closed gates of the Grove, and while it does suit him well, you can’t help but think a more…agonized expression would do him better. “Because while I initially had other uses for you, I have no problem picking out your insides and hanging your corpse in the rafters.”

Sweat beads at his temples, and you raise a hand to smear the liquid into his skin, skin that has been meticulously cleaned and scrubbed by Sceleritas at your behest. Aradin snatches away from your touch, and your fingers are quick to slip into curly, dark locks and snatch them at the root. He hisses through clenched teeth, and your lips quirk at the corners at his pained look.

“Would you like that, Mr. Beno?” Your grip tightens and your stomach clenches, body flooding with that all too familiar rush of endorphins. “Would you like me to show you the true beauty of the human body?” The sudden urge to pull, pull, pull until his scalp separates from the rest of his body is ever strong. Your mouth pools with saliva as you imagine the mess; the blood, the hair, the sight of his skull that would undoubtedly call for you to cave it in and reveal what is hidden underneath - a delicacy.

Another day perhaps, you sigh. You have a different purpose for him today, a purpose that you’ve put off since you stepped -flew- off that damned ship. “Another time perhaps. Tonight, I’d like to indulge in something a little less bloody.” Your grip in his hair loosens, fingers combing through soft curls, and your fingers trail down to smooth over his eyebrows. “You really are quite handsome…” It’s a shame that his mouth frequently overshadows that fact.

Aradin watches with suspicious eyes, but otherwise keeps his mouth closed. You gather the bottom of your dress in your hands and lift it as you climb onto the bed to straddle his waist.

“Wh-” His voice cracks and he sneers at you. “What in the nine hells d’you think you’re doing?”

“Trying out my new pet.” You state, dress resting around your hips as you seat your bare sex on his skin. His flesh is hot, soft, muscles twitching and tensing underneath it, and you sigh as you rock against him. “It’d be in your best interest to try very hard to please your new owner, lest you end up at the end of my blade.”

You shuffle further up his body, hand spilling your dress higher to reveal yourself to him, and you watch as his adam’s apple bobs, tongue briefly darting out to wet his dry lips. He goes to say something but stops, and you don’t have to glance over your shoulder to know that his blood has run south. Men, such easy creatures.

You’re hovering over his face when he finally gets his voice back, but his insults and threats are quickly quieted as you lower your hips, slick pussy kissing against his lips and clit bumping against his nose.

“Now, pet, I do hope that you plan to keep that title.”

#aradin x reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 smut

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ickadori · 4 days

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halsin walks like it’s heavy

#++ dori #bruising the insides of his thighs heavy #gotta wear a jock strap for the support heavy #you’ll get a black eye if he whips it out too fast #likeeee #i need bg3 ppl here real bad

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ickadori · 4 days

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Rolan in suit, newet patreon reward

#++ art

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ickadori · 5 days

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[cws] gn reader -> durge reader. act 1 spoiler for durge.

Thinking about a durge reader who relies heavily on Halsin and Gale to stop them in their tracks when they fall prey to their urges.

You’re trying to be better -somewhat, anyways-, and the first step to doing that was being able to control your more darker impulses. You had been fine the first few days off the nautiloid — you hadn’t severed gale’s hand and kept it as a souvenir as you had so desperately wanted to, and you had even gone out of your way to save those pitiful tieflings from certain death at the grove…well, all except one tiefling.

That had been an utter mistake, but had been the event that forced you to face reality - you weren’t in control of yourself, not entirely. There was something dark, something sinister festering and boiling inside you, just waiting for a moment to spill over and send you into a bout of bloodlust.

You had expected your traveling companions to banish you out of your little group of misfits, but they had been surprisingly amicable about it all, minus the promises to saw at your neck if you ever pointed your blade in their direction.

Halsin and Gale were the ones to mitigate your damage. Neither of them had volunteered for the position, but they had been the ones to fill it nonetheless - not as if you gave them much of a choice. They just happened to always be near during one of your ‘episodes’, and were willing to use non-lethal methods to stop you.

“Oh, it’s gotten hold of you again, has it?”

Arms as sturdy as steel bars lock around you, the blade that had been poised and ready to sink into the neck of some unsuspecting drow clattering to the cobbled road. You thrash immediately, body acting on instinct as you fight to free yourself, fight to reach for the curved blade, fight to wrap your fingers around it and stab, fight to kill.

You’re wrestled down to the ground and flipped onto your belly, a heavy weight crushing you down, and even through the red haze clouding your mind you can recognize it as Halsin’s touch - a calming, grounding, safe touch.

Your body rejects it even though your mind craves it.

“Easy now,” his voice is low, spoken directly into your ear. “We’ll wait this out just like this, as long as it takes.” His grip on you doesn’t loosen once, instead growing tighter and tighter the more you kick, thrash, and scream.

You lash out at him any way you can: teeth sinking into the meat of his biceps, nails clawing against his skin, feet slamming back into his calves, head knocking back into his own.

You never fully remember your actions when your senses finally come back to you, only flashes of pained faces and whispers of grunts and curses, but you always see the damage afterwards.

Nicks on his skin, blossoming bruises on his legs, bloodied teeth when he gives you that relieved smile when he notices you’ve finally stopped fighting him. “There you are. That was two minutes lesser than the last blood crazed frenzy you went on. I’d say that’s pretty good, all things considered.”

Your breathing is labored as you watch his face, a prominent ache in your chest from where his arms had held you, where they still hold you. You don’t normally react positively towards others touching you, especially when you’re being restrained, but you find yourself relaxing in his hold, breathing evening out and jaw unclenching.

He returns your gaze, his hold turning from near-punishing to something gentler. His hands, large and warm, roam up and down the expanse of your back in soothing motions. “Are you alright to continue on now?”

“Yes.” You make no move to get out of his embrace and up to your feet, and he makes no move to do it for you.

“Do you wish to continue on now?”

“No.”

He breathes out a laugh. “Then we shall rest.”

“…and the most magnificent thing by far about the wonders of the weave are—oh, you’ve gone and grabbed your blade. A simple ‘that’s enough, Gale’ would have gotten the message across just as well, you know? Oh…oh, it’s happening, is it?”

A flurry of invisible hands pin you into place and disarm you, rendering you immobile as you’re helpless to do anything but gnash your teeth and scream your throat raw. Gale eventually conjures another hand to cover your mouth, a heavy sigh leaving him as he crosses one leg over the other.

“My, you are a disruptive one, aren’t you? My impromptu teachings have been known to bore others to sleep, but to drive them into a mindless craze? That is a first. I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered.” His voice is light as he watches your struggle for a brief moment. “Well, a quiet moment is a moment best spent learning. I’ll continue where I left off.”

By the time your mind has cleared of your darker urges, Gale well into yet another recount of his days as a young wizard, hands making wild gestures and occasionally firing off a spell to enhance his storytelling.

You don’t how many stories he’s told since you first regressed into that mindless slaying machine, but you do know that the sun has set and hunger has crept its way into your stomach.

“…barely made it out intact, and I’ve got the scar to prove it. Ah, those were the days - a young, reckless scamp wreaking havoc in the—oh, you’ve finally regained your senses, have you? Splendid. I was starting to think I’d run out of stories.”

The hand that had been clamped over your mouth is removed, and then the other hands leave one by one. Being stuck in the same position for hours on end left you a bit unsteady on your feet, and you sway when the last hand disappears. Before you can hit the dirt Gale is there, arm slipping around your waist as he hefts you into his side and keeps you upright.

“Easy there, I wouldn’t want you falling over and knocking yourself out before you’ve heard the last of my stories for the night.”

“There’s more?”

“Why, of course,” there’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “But I suppose I can save them for another day. We have more urgent matters to attend to at the moment - food. You’re famished, I’m sure. Not to worry, while I was dutifully making sure you didn’t turn out lovely camp into yet another bloody spectacle, I was also preparing that meal you seem to like.”

“I suppose I should thank you, then.”

“That would be the polite thing to do, yes.”

“…I suppose I can save that for another day as well.”

#durge x gale #durge x halsin #bg3 x reader #bg3 spoilers

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ickadori · 6 days

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remember when nanami died. ah, good times

#++ dori #the people were in hysterics #hehe

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ickadori · 6 days

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I am once again screaming inside because at his core Halsin is a deeply PLAYFUL person!

His playful, sarcastic "I AM?!" when you say he's big for an elf! He has banters where he teasingly roasts Shadowheart AND Gale at different times! He teases that you might be a lunatic for freeing a bear without knowing if it would attack you, he indulges the Drow twins by changing into a bear and letting the player ride him around, he loves bear puns (or really animal jokes in general), the way he flexes his muscles if the player mentions him moving things three grown men couldn't...

He wants to PLAY!!! The reason he's so serious for most of the story isn't because he's just the "sage wise archdruid" but because all the trauma he's faced FORCED him to be. Given the slightest bit of a chance to be himself (like traveling with a camp full of weirdos), he instantly shows his playful side, and it only comes out more in his epilogue.

He just wants to play!!

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ickadori · 6 days

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i refused to stay buried because i love you why are you running

#astarion #also gale after his first death in game

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ickadori · 6 days

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i was just fuckin around the other night thinking about an older rolan as an archmage but after rlly thinking about it he fr could have been at archmage status at a young age like gale. turns out act 1 rolan is a cocky bastard bcus HES RIGHT

#++ art

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ickadori · 6 days

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Title: Distorted.

Pairing: Yandere!Dottore x Reader (Genshin).

A Grab Bag Commission For A Very Lovely Anonymous Commissioner.

Summary: With the help of the Akasha system, Dottore strives to keep you happy and docile and, most importantly, unaware by his side.

Word Count: 1.0k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Unreality, Slight Gore/Blood, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, and Obsessive Behavior.

“Do you think Ajax is free?”

Dottore hummed thoughtfully, pressing his scalpel downward and severing a measured length of small intestine from the greater mass. With time to spare and the patient he was extracting his materials from long-dead, he took a minute aside to note the patches of scar tissue lining their internal tissue on a blood-spotted journal, to test for unusual viscosity or durability that’d have to be accounted for in his research. It was a minor study, something that would’ve been handed off to a younger branch of himself not yet ready to play a hand in more dire schemes, but due to the intervention of a certain archon, he was forced to carry out more of his own grunt work than he had in decades. Not that he minded getting his hands dirty, of course.

Especially when the same archon’s nation had given him such a lovely lab assistant to keep him company while he worked.

“Planning to replace me, little mouse?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten. It’s your own dinner party, for the Tsaritsa’s sake.” He heard you sigh in mock exasperation, then again – your frustration more genuine. You were sitting at his desk, working away at whatever little task you’d assigned yourself, the ring of blue light encircling your head pulsing brightly. It was his own handiwork – a version of the Akasha system he’d been able to maintain even after returning to Snezhnaya. He had no idea where you thought you were, what you thought he was doing, what you saw through those clouded eyes, but he knew you couldn’t be here, in his dark, cluttered lab - couldn’t see your beloved husband, the man who you’d crossed half of Teyvat to stay with, elbow-deep in a vat of disembodied organs and viscera. That was what interested him most about your experiment, really. It was one thing to wonder how you’d react if you ever found out the man you loved had such grisly pastimes. It was another, to watch what lengths your mind would go to just to substitute your reality with a more palatable fantasy. When it suited him, he could play a more involved hand in your fabrication, make himself into a hero or a villain or something else altogether, but most days, he was content to let you create your own daydreams. You were the most obedient when you could make him into exactly what you needed, that day.

“To celebrate your return to Snezhnaya,” You went on, as he piled the segmented pieces of a malformed liver onto his scale. “Pierro says that you haven’t been holding up your social obligations. I know it’s not customary, but I thought it’d be nice to invite another Harbinger – so you don’t have to suffer a room full of noblemen and merchants alone.”

So you were aware of his status as a Harbinger, today. More often than not, you treated him like a neighborhood doctor, or a traveling scholar as far from home as you’d found yourself. Sometimes, he was a low-ranking diplomat, or a medic you could welcome home from the battlefield, but you rarely acknowledged him as something so dangerous, something so far above yourself. It must’ve been the occasion. It would’ve been hard to deny who he was when you were sending out the invitations to a Harbinger’s event.

On that note, he abandoned his work, positioning himself on the opposing side of your desk. He was already smiling – it was difficult not to, when you were in his position – but his grin broadened further as he looked over your half-finished guest list, your attempts at calligraphy scribbled across what little scrap paper you could find. “I believe Tartaglia was sent back to his post in Liyue last week.”

You pursed your lips. “Pantalone comes with good company.”

“And he charges market-price for every precious second of his time. You wouldn’t want to bleed me dry, now, would you?” You tilted your head to the side, pretending to consider it, and he let out a breathy laugh, rounding the table and settling behind you, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “There must be an alternative.”

“Well,” You tilted your head back, your smile now matching his own. “It has been a while since I’ve heard Columbina sing–”

“Anyone but Columbina.”

“I write Pantalone a letter tonight, then.” You allowed yourself a moment to bask in your own self-satisfaction, leaning back in your seat and allowing your gaze to drift – first to your lap, then to your shoulders, where the blood and viscera coating your hands was beginning to soak into the fine ivory silk of your sleeves. There was a flash of repulsion, a sound not unlike a half-choked scream, and then you were shoving him away, your expression only growing more pained when he refused to move. He felt something tighten in his chest – not quite fear, but pure, zealous excitement. Had you, somehow, managed to break yourself out of your trance? Was there a flaw in the Akasha system he hadn’t accounted for? How much would you force yourself to forget, overwrite, warp and distort into something loving in the coming hours if you saw him for what he was, now?

“Zandik.” The sound of his name on your lips was to die for. He leaned down, pressing nipping at the corner of your jaw, and you groaned, brushing him away. “I’ve told you not to touch me while you’re painting. Look at me – it’s going to take ages to get this out of my clothes.”

Oh. Painting. How adorably quaint.

How adorably wrong.

With a sigh, he leaned down, pressing a fleeting kiss into the corner of your neck. You crossed your arms, sulking, but allowed him to. It wasn’t as if you’d be able to refuse. “Forgive me, darling.”

He straightened his back, watching red seep into white and begin to stain.

“I’m sure you’ll forget all about this in no time at all.”

#++ recs

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