#pantalone scenarios

[mellowwillowy]

CW: NSFW, cock/strap on, baby trapping yandere mentioned, Dom-sub dynamic, body fluid (saliva), MDNI

Yandere who thought he was the one who was going to impregnate you (yeah it works even if ur a dude, read it once in a yaoi(?)) only to fuck around and find out (literally). Ramming his insides while rearranging his guts <3 cooing sweet nothings into his ear while giving it a sloppy nibble.

Yandere who felt like he was about to black out from the overstimulation from his prostate and cock, toes curling until he couldn’t feel his feet anymore~

Yandere who got all horny again at the mention of you wanting to lactate his tits, drinking the milk right from the tap. How could he not get all worked up when your mouth wouldn't stop latching up on his nipples?

Yandere who wished you would abuse him further and harder, you ought to choke him for being silly, planning on baby-trapping you no less! He was the one who should be carrying your child! (yeah he failed to get pregger bcs pain)

Yandere who littered the whole bed sheet with his whole bodily fluid, yeah you gotta wash the sheet again once you were done.

Yandere who would obey you when you told him to clean his mess up with his tongue <3

“Who’s a good boy hm?”

Yandere who cum just from his reward which was getting to swallow your cum and spit (and any bodily fluid you are comfortable with honestly)

[fangdokja]

He’ll pay any price for your love—what’s your worth?

❤︎ Synopsis. In a love that teeters between devotion and obsession, escape is futile—his jealousy isn’t just possessive, it’s a consuming force that leaves no room for freedom. With each calculated act, he dismantles your world, ensuring you’ll always belong to him, body and soul.

♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Pantalone x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Heizou x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Venti x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Xiao x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. Heart's Chains - Part 4

♡ Word Count. 4,301

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non con, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, hints at rough play and sex, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non con kissing and touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.

♡ Pantalone – The Merchant’s Bargain.

“They think they can provide for you better than I can? How quaint. Shall I show them the cost of their insolence?”

The rhythmic echo of his boots against the cold marble floor carried a cadence of inevitability, a sound that sliced through the gilded silence of your confinement. You had dared to defy him once—a futile, trembling act of rebellion—but the memory of your failure still clung to you like a shroud. That night, his voice, smooth and deliberate, had wrapped around your resolve like silk hiding steel.

“Freedom?” he had mused, tilting his head as though you’d spoken in a language he had long since conquered and discarded. The gloved fingers under your chin forced your eyes to meet his, those calculating pools of dark ink that shimmered with amusement and an undercurrent of unspoken threat. “Ah, my dear. You misunderstand. Freedom is not yours to hold. It never was.”

The realization had come too late, slipping into your chest like a dagger hidden behind a bouquet of roses. And then there was his touch—clinical, practiced, a scholar examining his magnum opus. His lips brushed against your skin, leaving trails of cold fire in their wake, while his hands—gloved but never less intimate—claimed every part of you that you had once believed untouchable. It wasn’t affection. It was triumph, meticulous and unyielding, as if sealing a deal that had never required your consent.

“You are mine,” he had whispered, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. His words weren’t a confession but a decree, immutable and eternal. “Every thought. Every tear. Every heartbeat. They belong to me.”

Even now, the memory of his voice—velvet layered over iron—made your stomach twist in a combination of dread and something you refused to name. He was not cruel in the way of brutes who lashed out in fits of rage. No, his cruelty was far more refined, a blade sharpened to perfection, slipping between your ribs without a trace of blood. When he destroyed those who dared to covet you, it was not with fists but with contracts and whispered promises that unraveled their lives thread by thread.

“They thought they could compete with me?” he had remarked once, his smile as sharp as shattered glass. “Quaint. Shall we see how far they fall without their illusions?”

And fall they did. Men who had once walked with pride were reduced to husks of themselves, their empires razed to ash by the sheer weight of his machinations. You had watched, helpless and horrified, as he dismantled them with the same precision he used to trace the curve of your jaw, the line of your collarbone. His methods were merciless, but his gaze, whenever it turned to you, was something worse. It was possessive, yes, but layered with an almost tender mockery—a reminder that you were both the prize and the trophy.

At night, he would come to you, his presence filling the room long before his touch reached your skin. The scent of leather and cold metal clung to him, an oppressive cloud that left no space for you to breathe. He would undress you slowly, not with passion but with a reverence that felt more like dissection. His fingers, deft and unrelenting, mapped every inch of you as though committing you to memory. And when he finally pressed his lips to yours, it was not a kiss but a seal, binding you to him in ways no contract could ever replicate.

“You tremble so beautifully,” he had once murmured, his voice laced with something dark and predatory. “Do you realize what that does to me? Knowing that every shiver, every sigh, is mine to command?”

You wanted to scream, to push him away, to claw your way out of the golden cage he had built around you. But you knew better. His control was absolute, his influence extending beyond these walls to every corner of your life. Every ally you might have turned to, every path you might have taken, had been methodically closed off. He had seen to it that there was no escape, no hope, no future that did not orbit around him.

The nights were the worst. His body was a furnace against yours, his arms an unyielding cage that held you captive even in sleep. His whispers—promises of pleasure, threats of what would happen should you ever try to leave—invaded your dreams, turning them into nightmares you could not wake from. And yet, there were moments when his touch softened, when his lips brushed against your forehead in something almost resembling affection. Those moments terrified you most of all, for they reminded you of the power he held—not just over your body but over your mind, your soul.

When you cried, he would wipe away your tears with a gentleness that felt like mockery, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he smiled down at you.

“Hush now,” he would croon, his voice a paradox of warmth and cruelty. “There’s no need for tears. You should feel honored. Do you have any idea how many would give anything to be in your position? To be cherished by me?”

Cherished. The word tasted bitter in your mouth, a poisoned fruit wrapped in silk. But what choice did you have? He had stripped away every semblance of agency, every illusion of autonomy. You were his, bound by chains you could not see but felt in every breath you took.

Even now, as he stands across the room, his gaze heavy with unspoken promises, you feel the weight of his control. He doesn’t need to speak for you to know what he’s thinking. The slight tilt of his head, the way his fingers tap against the armrest of his chair—it all speaks of a man who knows he has won. Who knows that no matter how much you might dream of escape, you will always belong to him.

And when he finally approaches, his movements slow and deliberate, you can’t help but shiver. His hand cups your cheek, his touch as cold as the Snezhnayan winds that howl outside. He tilts your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes leaves you breathless.

“You’ll never leave me,” he says, his voice soft but laced with an unshakable certainty. “Not because you can’t, but because you won’t. Deep down, you know the truth. I’m the only one who can give you what you need. What you crave.”

His lips capture yours in a kiss that feels like a signature on a contract, binding you to him in ways you can’t fully comprehend. And as much as you want to resist, to pull away, you find yourself succumbing, the lines between despair and desire blurring until you can no longer distinguish one from the other.

Because in the end, he’s right. There is no escape—not from him, not from the darkness he has woven around you. You are his, now and forever. And he will make sure you never forget it.

────────────

♡ Heizou – The Deceptive Detective.

“You think you can hide from me? Oh, darling, you underestimate how much I enjoy a good chase.”

It starts with his voice—not a shout, but a murmur, low and velvety, winding its way into the recesses of your mind before you even realize you’ve stopped breathing. His tone is soft, almost tender, like the caress of satin against bare skin. But beneath it, oh, there’s an edge—a razor-thin blade poised to cut. Shikanoin Heizou doesn’t need volume to dominate a room. His presence alone does the work, wrapping around you until your own thoughts feel like they’re not entirely yours anymore.

“You’ve been busy,” he says, his voice carrying the faintest trace of amusement. Each syllable is deliberate, each pause measured to pull you in deeper. His words aren’t a question but a statement—an observation so sharp it feels like he’s dissecting your very essence. You glance at him, but he’s already looking at you, his eyes—those unnervingly keen eyes—piercing through you like scalpels.

His lips curve upward, a faint smile that dances just shy of genuine. It’s not joy. It’s calculation, a mask so carefully constructed that it only heightens the unnerving tension coiling in your stomach. The distance between you is too small, and yet he steps closer, each footfall soft but purposeful, like a predator closing in on cornered prey.

“Tell me,” he continues, leaning against the edge of the table with an ease that seems casual but is anything but. His fingers trail idly over its surface, tracing invisible patterns. “What’s their secret? What’s so fascinating about them that you’d risk... neglecting me?” The words drip from his lips like honey, sweet but cloying, their weight suffocating.

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your throat tightens as though he’s already wrapped those deft fingers around it. He tilts his head, his smile widening just a fraction. It’s not kind. It’s a noose tightening, a slow and deliberate constriction designed to choke the air from your lungs.

“Ah,” he sighs, as though the silence itself has confessed everything. “I see how it is. You’re testing me.” His voice drops, and there’s an undercurrent now, something darker, something that makes your pulse thunder in your ears. He straightens, his frame deceptively relaxed as he paces a slow circle around you. You’re keenly aware of how close he is, how the faint scent of sandalwood and something metallic clings to him.

Heizou’s methods are meticulous, his attention to detail almost inhuman. He doesn’t lash out—not physically. His cruelty lies in his precision, in the way he dismantles you piece by piece without ever raising his voice. “You know,” he muses, his tone light but laced with something sinister, “I caught them lying today. A terrible liar, really. But then again, I suppose they didn’t realize who they were dealing with.”

His footsteps stop, and you feel him behind you before you see him. A hand brushes against your wrist, and the touch is warm, almost gentle—but it lingers. His fingers tighten, just slightly, just enough to make your skin prickle.

“They were so nervous,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “The way their hands trembled when I said your name… quite telling, wouldn’t you agree?” There’s a pause, a stretch of silence so oppressive it feels like the air itself is suffused with malice.

Then, he chuckles—a soft, mirthless sound. “You don’t think they’re smarter than me, do you?” His grip tightens abruptly, the sudden force jolting you. “Because if they are, darling, then why were they begging by the end?”

The words linger, heavy and cold, and your stomach churns. He’s toying with you, savoring the way your breath hitches, the way your pulse flutters beneath his touch.

“You underestimate me,” he says softly, his tone almost mournful. “And that’s what hurts the most. After everything I’ve done for you, after all the times I’ve protected you…” He trails off, his hand sliding up to cradle your face. His thumb brushes against your cheek, a gesture that might’ve seemed tender if not for the vice grip of his other hand.

When he leans in, his lips ghosting over yours, the kiss isn’t an expression of love. It’s a claim, a binding force that leaves no room for doubt. Heizou’s affection isn’t freely given; it’s demanded, extracted, enforced. His lips are soft, his movements precise, but there’s no gentleness. Only control. Only possession.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes you want to shrink away. “Do you know what I love most about you?” he whispers, his voice so low it feels like it’s crawling beneath your skin.

He doesn’t wait for a response. “It’s how much you need me. Even when you think you don’t. Even when you try to run.” His smile returns, but it’s twisted now, a reflection of the madness simmering just beneath the surface.

“But don’t worry,” he murmurs, his thumb pressing into your jaw just enough to make your breath hitch. “I enjoy the chase. And you, my darling, are such a fascinating puzzle.”

His hands drop away, but the weight of him doesn’t. It lingers, heavy and inescapable, like the echo of a nightmare you can’t quite wake from. He steps back, but his eyes never leave yours, and you know, with a sinking certainty, that he doesn’t need chains to keep you. His words, his presence, his gaze—they’re all the binds he needs.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” he says, his tone almost gentle now, as if he’s offering comfort. “I already know everything. I just like hearing it from your lips.”

The room feels colder as he turns away, the smile still playing on his lips. But you know it’s not over. Not even close. Because Shikanoin Heizou doesn’t just want you to stay. He wants you to realize—to understand, to accept—that you were never free to leave.

────────────

♡ Venti – The Bard’s Obsession.

“The winds have whispered your name to me, and now I can’t help but sing of you. Forever.”

Venti’s jealousy is a quiet, insidious thing—gentle as a breeze at first, slipping unnoticed into the crevices of your life, only to grow into a tempest that consumes every corner of your existence. It begins with the way his songs shift. Once lighthearted and carefree, they become laced with longing, their melodies carrying a haunting undercurrent of possessiveness.

You hear it in the way his voice lilts when he sings of freedom, the irony cutting sharp as glass. Freedom is his domain, the cornerstone of his identity, yet the thought of you seeking it elsewhere gnaws at his very soul. He can’t abide the idea of you straying too far, can’t stomach the sight of another’s eyes lingering on you for too long.

“You’re the only hymn worth singing,” he tells you one evening, his words coated in honey but laced with something darker, something you can’t quite place. His aqua eyes gleam in the fading light, the soft glow belying the storm brewing beneath.

It’s not obvious at first. His jealousy manifests in small, seemingly innocuous gestures—a hand resting a moment too long on your shoulder, a sharp glance at anyone who dares approach you during his performances. But the signs are there, subtle as the wind. You feel it in the way the air grows stifling when he’s near, as though the atmosphere itself bends to his will. The winds whisper your name, carrying his voice to you even when he’s nowhere to be seen.

He’s always watching. Always waiting.

When another admirer dares to offer you a flower—a simple token of affection—Venti’s response is deceptively cheerful. He plucks the bloom from your hands with a laugh, spinning it between his fingers before casting it into the wind. “A lovely gesture,” he muses, his tone light. “But nothing compared to what I could offer you.”

Later, you notice the absence of that admirer. No one mentions them again, and you dare not ask.

Venti’s touch is soft, almost reverent, as though you’re a delicate melody he fears will shatter beneath his hands. But there’s a hunger in his eyes, a desperation that betrays his playful facade. When he holds you, it’s as if he’s trying to merge your very existence with his, to bind your soul to him in ways words and songs cannot convey.

“You’re my muse,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice trembling with an emotion that borders on madness. “Without you, my music would wither. Without you, I’d be nothing.”

It’s in his desperation that his true nature unfurls, dark and unyielding. The winds themselves seem to conspire with him, pulling you closer, trapping you in an invisible cage. When you try to leave, the gusts become relentless, tearing at your clothes, your hair, until you’re forced to seek shelter—and he’s always there, waiting with open arms and a saccharine smile.

His jealousy grows with each perceived slight, each moment you spend with another. One evening, after you’ve spoken too long with someone else, he pulls you aside, his grip on your wrist firm but not painful. “Tell me,” he says, his voice low and dangerously soft, “do they make your heart sing as I do? Do their words weave melodies in your soul?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating.

When he kisses you, it’s with a fervor that borders on desperation, his lips bruising against yours as though trying to erase the memory of anyone else. His hands roam your body with a possessiveness that leaves no room for doubt—you belong to him, and he will not share.

In the privacy of his embrace, his facade crumbles. The playful bard gives way to the archon he once was, his true power humming in the air around you. The winds howl outside, rattling the windows, as he whispers promises of eternity, of devotion so absolute it would shatter the heavens.

“You’re mine,” he breathes, his voice trembling with the weight of his obsession. “No one else can have you. Not the mortals who pine for you, not the gods who dare to covet you. Only me.”

And when he takes you, it’s with a mix of passion and desperation that leaves you breathless. His hands are everywhere, tracing the curve of your spine, the line of your jaw, as though trying to memorize every inch of you. His kisses are intoxicating, leaving you dizzy and gasping for air, and his touch is both a comfort and a curse, binding you to him in ways you can’t escape.

The winds outside carry his song, a haunting melody that speaks of love and loss, of a devotion so fierce it borders on destruction. And as he holds you close, his breath warm against your skin, you realize that you are both his muse and his prisoner, trapped in a melody that will never end.

────────────

♡ Xiao – The Guardian’s Desperation.

“I’ve slaughtered demons for centuries, but none of them haunt me as much as the thought of losing you.”

Xiao’s jealousy is a silent storm, his emotions buried beneath a stoic exterior. But when someone dares to approach you, his mask slips, revealing the feral possessiveness that lurks beneath. His love is a battlefield, and he will destroy anyone who stands in his way.

“They think they can protect you better than I can? Foolish. I’ll erase them from existence before they even draw their weapon.”

He watches you, always from the shadows—a sentinel whose presence is as consuming as the shadows that cling to him. You are unaware of his gaze, or perhaps you pretend to be, your every step laced with a naive confidence he simultaneously admires and despises. You wander too freely, too trustingly. It sets his teeth on edge, a low thrum of irritation pulsing in his chest like the steady hum of karmic debt.

You should not be so careless. Not when the world is teeming with dangers you cannot comprehend, threats he has battled for centuries. Not when he exists, tethered to you by something far more insidious than mere duty.

The first time he approached you, it was a fleeting moment at Wangshu Inn. Your voice was a melody too bright for this tainted earth, your laughter soft but cutting, a knife wrapped in silk. He didn’t speak then, didn’t dare disturb the fragile balance of your ignorance. But he memorized the cadence of your voice, the way it trembled slightly on certain words, how your lips curved when you smiled—a smile not meant for him but for the world you inhabited so freely.

It was maddening.

He hated it.

He wanted it.

You—a mortal bound by the confines of fleeting years—had ensnared him, shackling his mind in ways no karmic curse ever had. He should have left. Should have buried the feelings clawing at his chest in the deepest recesses of his being. Yet every step you took away from him, every day you spent beyond the sanctuary of his watchful eye, fed the gnawing hunger inside him. It was unbearable.

And so, he followed.

At first, it was subtle—a shadow flitting in the corner of your vision, a faint sensation of being watched. You dismissed it, a trick of the light, perhaps. But he was there, always there. The walls of Liyue Harbor—so bustling, so alive—could not deter him. Nor could the open plains, the forests, the winding roads you took on your whimsical adventures. His presence was constant, suffocating, unseen but palpable.

He told himself it was to protect you, to shield you from dangers you could not perceive. The truth was darker, more primal. It was not merely protection; it was possession. You were his. From the moment he decided to lay claim to you—silently, secretly—you belonged to him. It didn’t matter if you were unaware of it. It didn’t matter if the world continued to spin in blissful ignorance of his obsession.

But there were others.

Of course, there were others. Xiao had seen them—those who dared to tread too close, their gazes lingering too long, their voices too familiar. A pang of something dark and bitter twisted inside him each time it happened. Jealousy was a foreign sensation, one he had no name for but understood viscerally. He despised the way it coiled around his throat, hot and suffocating, and yet he could not escape it. It made his blood sing with a violent need—to eliminate, to erase, to make you see that no one else could be worthy of you.

It was a quiet night when he finally let you see him again. The sky was painted with stars, their light muted against the crescent moon. You were alone, as you often were, wandering near the cliffs overlooking Dihua Marsh. The wind played with your hair, carrying it like a banner of defiance. He appeared silently, a shadow stepping out of the void, his golden eyes piercing in the dim light.

You gasped softly, startled but not afraid. Not yet. His expression was unreadable, as it always was—a mask of cold indifference that barely hid the turmoil beneath. “You should not be here,” he said, his voice low and steady, yet tinged with something unspoken.

You tilted your head, curious. “Xiao?” You said his name like it was a question, like it was fragile, like it belonged to you. His fingers twitched at his side.

“It’s dangerous,” he continued, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming in its intensity. You did not step back, though your breath hitched imperceptibly. He noticed, of course. He noticed everything about you.

“I can take care of myself,” you replied, a faint smile gracing your lips. It was the wrong thing to say.

His jaw tightened, the golden irises of his eyes darkening like storm clouds. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice sharp now, a blade against the fragile air between you. “You don’t see the things I see. You don’t know what’s out there.”

“Then show me,” you challenged, your voice steady but your pulse quickening. He could hear it, the rapid thrum of your heart, and it ignited something dangerous inside him.

For a moment, silence stretched between you, taut and suffocating. Then, faster than you could react, he was there—too close, his breath warm against your skin. His hand shot out, gripping your wrist, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to convey an unyielding dominance.

“You don’t understand,” he repeated, softer this time, almost a whisper. His gaze bore into yours, unrelenting, unyielding. “I will not let anything happen to you.”

And you knew, then, with chilling certainty, that he was not speaking of mere protection. There was a possessiveness in his voice, an edge of something raw and unrefined. He was not asking for your consent, your understanding, your compliance. He was taking it.

The wind howled around you, a mournful sound that seemed to echo the inevitability of your fate. You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, just enough to make you stop, to make you understand.

“Do not test me,” he warned, his voice dropping to a growl that sent shivers down your spine. There was no malice in his tone, only an unwavering resolve that promised you would never escape him.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. His other hand reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The gesture was almost tender, a cruel juxtaposition to the iron grip on your wrist.

“You belong here,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours. “With me.”

────────────

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General TAG LIST of “Forbidden Fruits”: @uniquecutie-puffs , @ikevampharem , @tnsophiaonly , @mokingbrd78k , @cooldeermagazine , @mimitk , @xileonaaaa , @acacia-koi , @purple-obsidian , @waterfal-ling , @jjune-07 , @jsprien213

[lavenderchqn]

synopsis — daily harbinger adventures pairings — tartaglia, pantalone, arlecchino, columbina, dottore and capitano x gn!reader warnings — regular chaos incarnate, an unserious divorce threat in pantalone's... i guess everyone's in the trenches (including lyney getting called out of nowhere) notes — reverse order this time due to 5.1 spoilers (sorta) in capitano's; hope that's okay with all of you ~

TARTAGLIA

PANTALONE

ARLECCHINO

COLUMBINA

DOTTORE

CAPITANO

date of posting — october 31st 2024

[morose-melodies]

hello!

First,i have something to say to the fatuis in the pregnant reader fic...JOKES ON YOU İ HAVE A HİGH CHANCE OF MİSSCARRİAGE AND PROBABLY NEVER HAVE KİDS(we can act like this part doesnt exists)

anyway,onto the point.Can i request capitano,dottore,Childe and pantalone with a reader who acts really REALLY cold towards them and refuses to ask any favor from them?like- even if they are thirsty in the middle of the night,they would just sleep,wait until the morning and then ask one of the maids for a cup of water.if anything here makes you uncomfortable you are free to ignore it!

cold as snezhnaya | various! yandere! fatui harbinger x reader

a/n: I got a little bit lazy sorry!!

CAPITANO

capitano would bend over back for you, he'd do whatever you pleased... if only you'd ask.

initially, the captain hadn't noticed your cold demeanor, or... he simply didn't pay mind to it. perhaps you were having a bad day? well, he'd do everything in his power to make you feel better.

but, it never seemed to work.

no matter how many times he'd come home to you after a long grueling mission, you were still the same.

he had tried approaching you differently, giving you space, and even coming home with gifts. nothing worked.

perhaps you were afraid of him? he would remove his mask and armor before approaching you, and he would try to smile more for you - once again, nothing worked.

he wouldn't give up on you, ever. you were worth fighting for.

"(y/n)," he approached you one early morning, watching from a distance as you poured yourself, "how have you been? is there anything you'd like?"

he could hear you sigh once he started speaking.

"no."

he, too, sighed. you were complex - confusing but capitano wanted to figure you out. he wanted to suit you and be whatever pleased you.

but, he had tried everything. if he were being honest with himself, he was getting frustrated - not with you but himself.

he placed a hand on the counter, and watched you. he wanted to plead with you, to understand how you were feeling, to understand why.

"is there something upsetting you? you could tell me and we would-"

"no. no, I'm fine."

you took your tea and turned to leave.

the captain prided himself on his self-control. he would never lash out at you, so, why did he take a large step towards you and grab your arm?

if you weren't afraid of him before, surely you were now.

"(y/n), please. tell me what I could do for you, anything, ask anything of me. do you not understand how much I care for you?"

when you tried to pull away, a shocked look on your face, his grip tightened, "(y/n), answer me. do it or I swear to the archons-"

"let go-!" tugging once again, you tried to free your arm from his painful grip, "let me go! that's what i want."

he released you immediately.

if you asked, he'd never show his face to you again.

"(y/n), forgive me," he started, looking at you, at the way you looked at him and couldn't finish - he stood there, his heart pounding hard against his chest.

he was the worst, was he not?

he would spend the rest of his life working for your forgiveness, and wouldn't regret a second of it.

DOTTORE

dottore had been considering something immoral as of late.

you've been acting differently, rude even and that was him putting it nicely. sure, he had been selfish by taking you from your home to be with him.

but, he was a selfish man.

your behavior was looked down upon, oh, how dottore hated it. it was unreasonable and immature.

he wished you'd grow up and talk to him about it instead of sulking and dragging your feet around the manor.

after a few attempts, dottore had given up on tending to your needs; he stopped trying to make you feel at home.

it didn't exactly matter how you felt, did it? you were here to make him happy, no? so, why were you making him feel so frustrated?

the sound of shattering glass caught dottore's attention - looking down at his bloodied hand, he saw that he had squeezed the small vial just a bit too hard.

you were becoming a distraction, a very bad problem.

now, as for what he was considering. well, he wanted you to change, to be the lovable angel you once were, it seemed impossible, oh, but it wasn't. not for him anyway.

and, it only took him five months to perfect it. in the form of a small pill was a life-changing drug.

"go get (y/n) for me," dottore asked of an assistant, pocketing the pill with his bloodied hand, oops. dottore looked at his hand, grimacing, he'd need to patch it up sooner than later.

a few minutes had passed when the assistant came back, peeking into the officer nervously, "come in - don't just stand there," dottore shook his head at the man.

"she's asleep, sir."

oh yes, it was nearly four in the morning. dottore nodded and waved the man off, he pocketed the pill and bandaged his hand.

...

while you were idly staring out a window, dottore dropped the pillow into your tea as he passed you by.

he'd be lying if he said he wasn't feeling even a little bit excited.

soon enough, you'd be the same (y/n) he met years ago, he mused as he made his way to his bedroom. oh, he needed rest badly and his back was killing him.

you took the mug and sipped the drink.

you pressed your cheek against the cold glass once more, your warm breath fogging up the glass. in the next few hours, you would idly sip your drink until it was gone.

dottore slept soundly, having forgotten about everything he'd done in the past few months. he was exhausted.

so, when you opened his bedroom door, peeking in at him.

he was confused.

"dottore, could I sleep beside you?"

"... of course," nonetheless, he agreed, how could he deny you?

CHILDE

childe had randomly, at some point, anticipated that you might hate him and never return the love he feels for you.

it was a passing thought, though. he'd never sat down and thought of how he'd react, or how he'd convince you to love him.

but, now that he's in that exact situation, he's been thinking nonstop about it.

he didn't want you to hate him - he didn't want you to feel out of place in snezhnaya, he wanted you to be loved, and feel safe - he wanted you to feel at home.

seeing that you didn't enjoy being here or anywhere near him, his mind was fuzzy - he hadn't thought a straight thought in a while, especially when you were near. he wanted to hug you, or drop to his knees and beg you to love him back - if it would work, then he'd do it.

he was getting a bit desperate.

it was getting increasingly uncomfortable to sit in silence while eating by your side - shouldn't the two of you be talking to one another; enjoying each other's presence like normal couples?

clearing his throat, ajax asked, "how's the food, (y/n)? my... my mom used to make it all the time when i was little. huh, it's probably not giving her justice... her's had a distinct taste."

he was met with silence.

uncomfortable silence.

"... she would make it for my birthday... uh, it was my favorite."

you glanced at him, before looking back down at your food.

childe sighed, resting his chin into his palm as he looked at you. he was super frustrated "you're upsetting me, (y/n)... as much as i hate to admit it."

you lifted your head to look at him, your eyebrow raised, your fork hanging in your hand, "why's that?"

it was that! that exact attitude, that's why he was so upset! without much of a second thought, childe tugged you out of your chair, holding onto your arm tightly.

"gosh, (y/n), what's with you!? I love you, i love you so much! s-so why are you acting like this!? just tell me! tell me so i can make it better!"

squeezing your arms, his hands trembled. he was at his wits end with you; he just wanted your love, was that too much to ask for?

pulling you against his chest, he hugged you tightly, "(y/n), what did I do so wrong?" he pressed his lips to the top of your head, kissing you. "let me make it better, please let me fix this."

PANTALONE

pantalone only ever gave you his best.

in appearance and attitude. you'd never catch him being angry, or having his hair disheveled - that was below him.

so, he couldn't understand why you were appreciative of all the effort he put into you - he would buy you nice clothing, hire maids to do your hair, have large breakfasts made for you, and even allow you to roam the garden freely.

he does all of that and yet you won't even speak to him willingly - it was disheartening, least to say.

but, he was understanding. you were scared, that had to be it, right? this was a very sudden change for you, of course, you were afraid.

or so, he thought.

as time passed, and he gave you time and space, he realized you were just cold to him and now, he simply couldn't understand why.

he treated you very well; he gave you affection and nice things, and he even gave you space when it seemed you needed it.

but, no matter what he did, he had never gotten a single 'thank you' from you. you had no manners and that upset him more than anything.

admittedly, he had gotten too angry.

watching you roam the snowy garden without as much as a coat frustrated him, but it mattered not; he'd give you his coat, and you would thank him if that was the last thing you did.

"(y/n), are you enjoying the garden?"

"I am."

"are you not cold?" as he walked nearer to you, he noticed you shifted away from him. once again, it did not matter! he would form you into a respectable person.

"no."

"you and I both know that's not true, here," slipping off his coat, he placed it over your shoulders and manually slipped your arms through the sleeves, "there - I'm sure you feel much better now, no?"

you stared down at the flowers, your lips pressed into a thin line.

oh, so you were upset now? "it was very gentlemanly of me to offer you my coat, a thank you would be kind."

he was simply suggesting it, or that's what his tone suggested anyway.

"I didn't ask for your coat, here you can have it back," you sighed, attempting to remove the coat to give back to him, "I'll go back in soon. it doesn't matter."

"no, no," he shook his head, placing a hand on your shoulder to keep the coat on, "it wouldn't kill you to thank me. have some manners, (y/n)."

he could see it in your expression, you were agitated. well, too bad.

"... (y/n), you're kidding me," he was surprised you'd be so stubborn, "can you not thank me? when have i ever asked this of you? not once. so, humble you-"

"thank you, pantalone, for the coat," you cut him off, glaring as you walked past him to go back inside.

it was a start! pantalone would take it. so, smiling to himself, he looked down at the flowers before him.

[kuroshioi]

Ride it.

Context: you ride their cock like there is no tommorow.

Warning: mdni, reader has no gender here, some unchecked grammar mistakes.

Author's note: I'M SO SORRY FOR BEING OFFLINE FOR A LONG TIME HELP-

God, how long has it been already since you were in this position? You don't remember but all you know is that it feels so fucking good. It's a sinful pleasure but a pleasure you want so badly right now that you no longer have self control over yourself.

You already had more than four orgasms but your desire is not melted that easily, you want more. You want that cock stuffed inside you and ride it for hours and hours to come even if you had to beg for it. And here you are right now. Panting and moaning while still not willing to stop because it's them you are taking. Not some random guy on the street you met and decided to have a hookup no, it's someone special you care about.

"still not tired huh?" They said with a slight smirk on their facing already knowing the answer "no! please..just one more..?" You give them a pleading look. A look that they can't deny no matter what.

"Well darling, who am I to refuse your little desires?" They said as they held your hips up, ready to start another round.

"come on, ride it."

A long night of sinful pleasure it is then.

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Zhongli, Ayato, Pantalone, Childe, Jing Yuan, Sunday, Adventurine + your favs☆

[mayullla]

Title: Forever a Lost Heart

Character(s): Pantalone (Genshin Impact) Summary: Pantalone came back home after a long time to find his lovely wife sleeping soundly. Warnings/tags: Yandere themes, fem!reader, not really Stockholm syndrome but reader has given up for a long time now, imprisonment, forced marriage

Note: .....*also confused* why did I delete the previous ask a long time ago T-T I apologize i am not the best at explaining back then (even now tbf ;-;)... but anyway still hope you like this lil fic! I am really happy with this one! Also had to repost this cause i made a huge mistake in deleting the original TvT yeahhhh sorry about that...

[ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]

It wasn't a marriage out of love. Your parents were so blinded by money, and fame forced you to marry a harbinger when he had given them a certain offer for a more luxurious life in exchange for their lovely daughter.

You.

You felt nothing more than cattle in the market, sold by your "owners," and in the next moment in the hands of someone else. Except this one was dressed it as if it was something romantic.

"Dear, how was your sleep?" Your eyes fluttered open at the voice as you looked around the dark room. Sleep still in your eyes. You forced yourself to wake up, using your arms to push yourself from the soft fabric of the bed. "You are back?" It wasn't supposed to sound like a question.

You didn't think he would come back so soon.

It has been a few days since he left, busy when the Tsaritsa summoned him for something related to one of the harbingers. "You don't sound all that please dear." It wasn't a question, as Pantalone placed a hand on your face. His gloved hand felt cold and lifeless to your cheek.

You shook your head, denying his words. Moving your hands to hold his as you lean more into his palm, closing your eyes as if comforted by his presence. "No. I am glad you are back..."

"How sweet of my love."

Yet hidden within your heart, he was correct. You didn't miss him, for the days when he was away were like a paradise for you. An empty and hollow paradise but still a paradise away from something that wanted to eat you whole. You hummed on his hand, a soft smile on your lips.

"Hmmm... you are such a doll, dear. So compliant." Pantalone chuckled, rubbing his thumb lightly on your cheek. "Did you watch over the mansion while I was away?" You nodded again. It was something that kept your mind away from the feeling of hopelessness and away from any punishments.

"Yes, I did."

"What else did you do while I was away? Did you get the gifts that I sent to you? I bought the most beautiful dresses and gems that would match your beauty. Thought nothing really is beautiful as my dove." Reminded of the boxes that the servants brought you nodded. Expensive jewels and dresses, shoes, and handbags, he had sent you many things, some of which you personally liked.

But all still useless things, they are nothing but stones and clothes, something that could never truly give you what you really wanted.

"You shouldn't lie, my dear." Ah, it seems that you didn't watch your face... it was your mistake after all you just woke up still tired from your sleep. You didn't realize your mistake until it was too late when he held your cheeks to make you look at him with such softness when his eyes had none.

"A wife should never lie to her husband, nor should she. You were always a great actress. Many outside this mansion believe that you truly love me. And quite a few misunderstood your sadness as loneliness away from her husband." His voice was sharp as he forced your face closer to his. You stared at his eyes, your own widening startled a little before returning back.

It wasn't a surprise at all that he knew. He was just too smart, for things to be kept simple.

"Were you planning on running away, dear? When I finally have my guard down around you, you could finally sneak away from me?" He innocently asked, as if he was he was accusing you. Staying still for a moment, looking down then to his eyes as you held on his wrist with a light touch, you shook your head. Well, as much as you could.

No, it wasn't like that... You had long given up ever escaping what faith had given you ever since you were born. A puppet created by your parents you were just handed over to another who could control your strings just as well.

It was something that came easy to you somehow... even if you wanted that freedom, the fear of what would happen when you stepped outside your boundary shook your heart. You didn't love your husband, but his obsession was far better than the love your parents showed to you.

"I am sorry... I just... I just feel lonely." You told him softly.

You were tired of being a doll, yet you hesitate to go out unable to find the courage to do so. If this was something of a healthy relationship maybe you could have changed for the better, but alas you didn't even have that when you were kissed by the side of your forehead by the man who softly held your face again.

"It seems that I was the reason that you have become like this. I am sorry to have left you alone for so long because of work, you have waited so patiently for me. Thank you, dear." Taking your hand, he kissed the back of your hand, the lingering warmth still there even after his lips parted away.

Your husband always knew how to twist things to his liking, how your words were twisted to his own pleasure.

"The Tsaritsa had asked me to head to Monstade soon after some rest, for some dealing over there. I wish to take you with me. My dear has been lonely for so long that it is only proper that we have some time together." Pantalone expression never changed as he rubbed your cheeks gently, his other hand holding yours. "Is there something you wished to do there, dear?"

Your eyes widen just a small bit at his words. Surprised that he was offering you finally to go out while you knew that you would never be able to leave his sight the idea of finally being able to leave the window as you watch the snow fall every minute made your heart light with hope. It was a foreign feeling something that Pantalone definitely noticed when his own smile widened just a little bit more.

Moving your hands as you took his that was holding yours, you moved it to your cheek, rubbing it affectionately as you kissed the back of his hand. "Yes... That would be lovely."

"I see that my sweetheart wishes to join me. I will have the preparations done and make it so that you will have a comfortable ride to Monstade." Pantalone stated as he watched your affections, finding it so amusing.

"It has been far too long since we have been in each other company outside. The last one was the honeymoon trip to Fontaine, but we didn't even do much then." Pantalone mumbled, a small smile gracing his lips again when an idea popped into his head, "Yes... let's do that."

You closed your eyes when he started combing your hair, uncaring to what he had in plan. His hand was gentle with you hair, as you dreamed about the dandelions and sunny skies.

[alexanderdabean]

The rules of dating the 9th Harbinger~ CW: 18+ Fem!Sub reader, Exhibition, degradation? ----18+ below---- Rule 1 - Never interrupt Pantalone's Work Time. Sitting on Pantalone's lap was a normal occurrence so no one batted an eyelid as you sat on his lap even though the position you were in was not normal. Once the final Scholar had left you would whimper and try to grind down on Pantalone's cock. Unaccustomed to this feeling, and the resulting lack of friction was driving you up the walls with frustration however as he slapped your thigh Pantalone whispered in your ear with a deep growl. "Have you learnt your lesson my little Y-N? Not to disturb me while I'm working?" You knew the RIGHT answer to that question but you also knew if you admitted defeat you would have to sit for another hour until he finished working yet if you acted out a little you knew you would get the release you wanted, whether or not you would regret it later was not on your mind given you just wanted to cum! "I-I have! I promise I have, I'll go bug Dottore next time so I-I can actually get fucked by a d-ah!" before you could even finish your sentence Pantalone would slap your clit which made you let a loud moan out. Realizing you were caught been a brat your face would hit the desk and you felt Pantalone start to thrust harshly inside you. Every thrust would earn a loud moan from your throat, but from Pantalone, he would degrade you, growl at you, and naturally pound you as he hated when you acted like this. He treated you like a princess, attention, mora, anything you wanted and most all the time you were thankful but when he didn't give you attention for a few days you were pretty petty and would bug him until he broke his façade "Well we will see how long you can be bratty for" he growled with a chuckle given you were already a pretty moaning mess

PT 1 PT2 PT3

[eluxcastar]

H hello yes I have shown up once again at your doorstep dragging a Pantlone scenario with me.

Number 24 of your prompts list is DOING several things to my psyche when I line up my lil Loverboy with it.

It's like the universe is aligning with Me. What a post to bless my evening.

"You are very good at what you do."

And then we mix that in with the above mentioned post. What do we get?

Loverboy's first kill in his line of work. Definitely messy and lacking in class,, but atleast made up for with a certain animalistic efficiency to get the job done.

Bbg's first step towards the downward spiral by getting the first disgusting taste of blood under his fingernails,,, which is further turned into an internal dilemma Cocktail with delicious words of praise and affirmation <3

Loverboy got left in the microwave

── ୨୧：pantalone x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: loverboy's first kill as a fatuu which may have scarred him but at least he had a hot guy to tell him what a great job he did

୨୧﹑genre :: angst

୨୧﹑content :: masc reader, pantalone might be ooc, they're not in a relationship yet (unfortunately), descriptions of blood, not proofread AND I wrote this on the train so more opportunity for mistakes

୨୧﹑words :: 2.1k

"You are very good at what you do."

ok so I know that what I said was coming next was loverboy's extended origins but I was riffling through my inbox for something short to write and found this so guess what we're having for dinner

it's entirely non-descript when this takes place and tbh doesn't entirely make sense but we're being SILLY today so we're going to pretend that his lore has a spot where this fits perfectly

You didn't know the human body could bleed so much or that they'd go out with such a fight. People die quickly on paper and in the stories your seniors told you. Your allies can be there one second and gone the next, fragile and human. 

What they did not tell you was that your enemies don't die like your allies. The people who fight with you die quietly, but the death of an enemy is visceral and raw. They die fighting and choking on their own blood, going out with a bang after leaving harsh scratches clawed into your skin, and it takes longer. You can't say how long. It feels like it should've taken longer to run a knife through their stomach, but everything blurs together into an endless struggle before you lay beneath a wheezing body on its last legs, with blood staining your uniform and coating your skin in an uncomfortable warmth.

Your hands are red. It's the first thing you realise when you push that person off of you, and they collapse beside you in a lifeless heap of flesh and bone.

Your hands are red, and so is your uniform, and the snow beneath you, and your arm, bleeding from jagged scratches—

"You're very good at what you do."

What?

Before you realise what you're doing, you turn up to look at who's there, half expecting another enemy as you grip the bloodied knife still lodged in the body beside you. 

Your eyes follow from the shoes up to the face of Pantalone, and you breathe a cautious breath, your hand drifting away from the knife, hoping he wouldn't notice you were on the verge of stabbing him a moment ago. 

It sounded like his attempt to comfort or assure you, but all you feel toward him is anger. The reasoning is lost on you, as all reasoning is right now. Your mind is scattered, fighting the urge to empty your stomach and trying to ease your trembling. 

How can he treat human life so flippantly? Does this entertain him?

Pantalone steps around the body, eyes trained on you. It seems the sight fails to bother Pantalone as he crushes their hand beneath his shoe without mercy, the sickening crack of bones doing nothing to help the rising bile in your throat. You watch him, unable to form words and desperate to keep yourself from crying in front of a Harbinger.

Instead, Pantalone looks unfazed by it all, stopping as he reaches the other side of you, free of most of the blood. He greets you with a knowing smile as he usually does. His hand disappears into his overcoat, and when it reappears, he's holding something— a handkerchief, you think. 

"I knew making you a banker was a good idea," he says. Pantalone lowers himself to the ground, knee resting in the snow as his free hand catches your chin between his fingers, thumb brushing across your bottom lip slicked with blood. His eyes hold an unreadable look, perhaps of admiration, but maybe that's your imagination as you stare him down with a forced, queasy smile.

He chuckles lightly at the display. "Who knew you had so many other talents," he remarks, perhaps teasing you, but you're not sure. You doubt he is.

Murder is not the duty of a banker, not any regular banker, at least. Then again, Fatui bankers were never regular bankers. People say the Northland bank's true currencies are blood and tears for a reason, and you scold yourself for not realising that sooner. You should've figured out from the moment he asked you to accompany him that this was some kind of test, not the rudimentary trip to your homeland you thought it was.

Now, he's admiring you like the most precious jewel of his expansive collection, eyes alight with approval and only exemplified by the evident confidence in himself.

He raises the handkerchief to your cheek, and you instinctively pull away, stopped only by his finger raising to warn you, like telling off a misbehaving child. 

"Ah ah," he says, a harshness seeping into even just that sound. "Stay." 

You stay put, not eager to anger him. The next thing you feel is pain— stinging pain— as he presses the fabric over your skin with a delicate touch. The action is unusually gentle coming from someone as cutthroat as the Regrator and certainly not what you expected. You're not sure what you expected, just that it wasn't this. You expected him to toss it at you or let you rot in your misery, covered in blood.

"Lord Harbinger," you try to say, wincing as a shot of pain pulses through your head. You must've been injured at some point and not realised.

"You are much like your father." He doesn't wait for you to finish whatever you are going to say, instead simply reassuring you of yourself.

"I am not like him," you retort before you can catch yourself.

He responds with a chuckle, pulling the handkerchief away for a moment before pressing it back against your forehead. "I think you are," he says softly. "You are more alike than you think. Of course, I hope that courage doesn't rob you of your wits as it did to him."

You wince again, scolding yourself, and you mumble a quiet, "It won't."

"Good," he responds. 

Overwhelming, you feel like a dog—a well-regarded dog—but no less a dog. You are a fluffy little dog that fits nicely into Pantalone's purse to be admired and used as an accessory, nothing more. Everyone went ahead and told you as much a long time ago. To him, people are numbers; names are for the lucky among his upper echelons.

Yet he remembers your father. You eye him with scrutiny, trying—and inevitably failing—to read the look in his eyes to gauge why he would say that.

Nobody reads the Regrator among his ranks, especially not when they're as wet behind the ears as you are.

Despite your nerves, you swallow the lump in your throat. "Why did you bring me here?" you finally manage to ask, meek and afraid to upset Pantalone after watching how carelessly he treated that body.

"Whatever do you mean?" He's playing dumb; even you can tell that from just hearing the coyness in his voice.

"Never mind," you quickly say, ready to drop the matter like that.

Pantalone's hand that rests on your chin moves. He squeezes your cheeks between his fingers, digging the gloved ends of his nails into the plush of your skin until your lips pucker. His ring is cold. "No, you asked a question, as did I." His smile doesn't falter. "Speak up. When we want things, we ask for them directly. Do I make myself clear?" You hastily nod as best you can. "Now, try again. Dear banker, whatever do you mean?" 

The repetition of his question tells you this is your first warning.

"Is this a test?" you manage, words muffled by the way he squishes your face like putty beneath his fingers. Your heart pounds in your chest, threatening to jump out and run away if it means escaping Pantalone's scrutiny.

"Would it please you to know that you would have passed?" he questions, pausing for you to answer with a hesitant nod of your head. "I brought you with me to see if you were worth keeping around," he explains. "I received advice from an anonymous source that you may be better suited to work under another Harbinger's watch. I see now that perhaps such advice came from a…sentimental point of view."

That would explain how he knows of your father; someone must've tried to get you out of this unit, and you know who, regardless of how 'anonymous' that source may have been in his words.

Pantalone releases you to take your hand from your side, and he guides it to hold his handkerchief over your wound. "Hold this," he adds, an unnervingly tender instruction for the way he was just behaving. 

He removes his hands from you, robbing you of his touch. It feels strange for the warmth of his hands to have disappeared entirely, your only distraction from the blood itching beneath your clothes gone just like that. You should have guessed it would be 

"What was the point?" you ask, eyes following Pantalone as he stands back to his usual height and straightens his overcoat. 

His smile fades, eyes wandering from where you continue to sit, looking probably about as pathetic as you think you do. "Whether it is to collect on debts or complete an objective in the field, having such unrefined hands unused to killing will leave you on the receiving end of what you just did. People may believe it's just numbers and accounting, but the Northland Bank deals largely in debt collection as well. You're only an assistant with the resilience of a baby bird, but soon..." He seems to ponder those words for a moment before continuing. "In time, you could do great things at the Northland Bank. Who knows?"

Nobody believes that about the bank. You don't bother to tell him the obvious, however, as you're sure he also knows that.

You don't like that thought. In fact, frankly speaking, it terrifies you beyond belief to even begin to think that could be you. That's precisely what you've been avoiding facing this whole time and what made you sick when you had no choice but to face it. At that moment, there existed no escape but one, the inevitable end of one of you dying, whether because Pantalone stepped in or someone won the upper hand.

The only reason you're not dead is because you were lucky enough for it to be you who won the upper hand.

Your life is so terribly fragile. 

It isn't only this that makes you realise such a thing. You knew it before, but until a few minutes ago, the taking of a life was someone else's story. It was something you heard from one of your seniors, a story you hear after a long night of tedious work as if telling scary stories around a campfire like children do. It wasn't something you carried around like a scar. 

Watching as the life leaves someone's eyes, knowing you are the reason it's happening, never quite made the cut when describing the excitement, and you understand why. 

It is the monster under the bed that makes you curl up in your blankets and convince yourself that it'll stay hidden if it can't see you, but it'll always be there, waiting for you to acknowledge it. Someday, you might have to, but you try to push it to the back of your mind and focus your eyes on Pantalone as if there's not a dead body right behind you. You have never felt so much blood seep through your clothes before, and you hope you never do again. The thought of your uniform sticking to you this way ever again makes you nauseous.

"Once we return, you can change clothes," Pantalone says, perhaps sensing your disgust at yourself. "Oh, and—" he smiles down at you, almost mocking if you didn't know better— "next time someone approaches you from behind, don't wait to stab them. Don't reach for your wet knife with your wet hands, either. Both of those things will get you killed."

Your face feels red from the nerves creeping up from your neck. You imagine Pantalone is looking down at a beet-red banker fumbling to respond. You entirely miss him describing it as if you had water on your hands and nearly lost your grip. "I will— or won't," you quickly assure him, embarrassed that he noticed after all. You managed to kid nobody but yourself into thinking he wouldn't catch you.

There's an amusement in the smirk playing on his lips as he turns back to you. "What did I say about speaking clearly? Repeat yourself, I can't hear you mumbling from down there."

"I won't, sir!" you repeat, much louder than your shame wants to allow, as you force yourself to 'speak up' as he put it, to avoid having to say it a third time. "I won't hesitate next time."

"Good." He turns away, prepared to leave you behind if you can't keep up. "Come now. You want to go home and back to Liyue, don't you? I'm tired of this cold." The moment you realise he won't be waiting around for you to collect yourself, you are already scrambling to get back on your feet and rush after him.

CROSSPOSTED ON AO3

[explicitred]

Pantalone's wallet is MY wallet

June 18, Post 14 of the "30 Days Fanfic Event"

Pantalone x Male Reader

Modern au?? I need more primos :c (even though i have 7k+ primos saved up, YOU CAN NEVER HAVE ENOUGH) second highest voted in Dottore's Headcanons poll

Pantalone and Baizhu though, sus 🤔

What?? ahahahah. YOU’RE POOR IN GENSHIN??

Worry not, this smiling banker man will pay :D

Sit back, relax, and enjoy the massive amount of primogems coming your way to gamble more on genshin impact 😎

Sighing in frustration, you looked at your C20 Keqing. 

“I swear this cat lady has a crush on me, she’s been coming to me for 20 times in a row.”

Boredly looking at her splash art, you clicked on the screen, the next thing being The Bell.

(mm, yes. my favorite.)

After clicking again, the screen returned back to the summoning page. 159 Primogems left?! The pain. 

Suddenly, Pantalone’s head peeks out above your chair, cutely curious about what you were doing and playing.

“Oh? You have… 159 of this star currency?” He spoke in a hushed tone, “Do you possibly think that’s enough for the beloved of Regrator, dearest?”

Cue the spending and drowning in 1m+ primogems

We eat, shower, and shi primogems. it's a good time.

[yandere-sins]

Guard #400

a/n: It is time... for Pantalone ♥♥♥ I was actually really looking forward to this one lol, he just fits a little too well in this whole prison scheme (I guess all Harbingers do hahhaa). Also I won’t deny any longer just how badly I want to be railed by that guy. Just... just give him to me mhy, now, gimmi gimmi. If he ever does come out as a playable character I might just C6 him because damn. He’d demand it and I’d just be Sir, yes, Sir! Woof woof.

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairings: Yandere!Guard!Pantalone x GN!AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Dub-Con, Forced Exhibition, Slapping), Abuse of authority, Manipulation, Long Post

[Prison Project Introduction & How to request | Pinterest Moodboard]

"So? Have you made your decision?"

Pantalone slowly rose from his chair, uncapped his fountain pen, and placed it on the paper you recognized as the contract he had offered you before. Gesturing his hand to the document, he added, "The offer still stands, but I'm not sure for how long."

He was growing impatient. You could hear it even through his honeyed, service voice, unfitting of a man in his position. The few slow strides were so confident, as if the contract's content didn't concern him in the least, no matter how nasty and inhumane it was. He was a man that knew what he wanted. And even worse: He knew he was going to get it.

Circling around you, you felt his warmth in your back, a hand brushing from your hip up your side, resting on your waist as he stepped up next to you from behind. "Let me guess—no one else wanted to employ you? Poor thing."

His taunt felt like an ice-cold blade stabbing into your gut, twisting around in the form of a delighted chuckle. Pantalone hadn't been your first choice of employer. You thought the chief of finances of the prison you had been sent to wouldn't have interest in someone locked up for embezzlement. But your options of other jobs had been so few, most of them refusing you even before you asked for a position, that eventually you put your doubts aside, trying your luck with this man. However, the job he had for you was more punishment than going to prison not guilty already was. You just wanted to earn some money to make your life here more comfortable and save some for the hardships you'd face once you got out.

He wanted a sex slave.

As disturbing and straightforward as that. Things in this prison were anything but proper. Still, you never expected an officer in a leading position like the finance department to go this far. The first time you read the contract, you thought you were hallucinating, laughing it off as a bad joke. But seeing the everlasting, unreadable smile on Pantalone's lips, you realized he was serious about this—so you ran.

You wished you could have told anyone what had happened, even just vent it to a friend. But nothing and no one in this prison was friendly to you, the newbie. You could live with the mockery and bullying, being pushed around and called names. However, you were in no position to tell anyone what Pantalone had offered to you. There was nothing you could do to put his head back on straight. You were powerless.

Thus, after another round of unsuccessful applications, you were back, disgusted at yourself for even considering it.

"Isn't there anything... anything else I can do but this?" you asked uncomfortably, and you heard him take a deep breath by your side, annoyance radiating off of him. Your morality told you not to sink to his level, to not even consider it any further unless he offered you actual work right then and there. But your conscience was whispering into the back of your mind, with his voice, that this was as good as it would get, and you should take it as long as he still wanted you.

"Why? Do you think I won't compensate you well for this work?"

Hand slipping down, his fingers gripped your waist, pulling you into his chest, his lips next to your ear. "You need the money, remember? And I have lots of it. If you want to leave, you're free to go—now. But if you agree to stay, you'll get whatever you want from me, and I'll get my break from work. It's a win-win for everyone."

The smug smile plastered on his face could be heard in his voice as he made all of this seem so harmless. Fun, even. A business transaction like in the books with a twist. Your body for money, and maybe more. "Anything I want?" you muttered, thinking about the few things that would make your life easier here if you had them.

Pantalone's head dipped lower, and you subconsciously moved your head out of the way, baring your neck to him, which he appreciated with an agreeing hum. "Mhm, anything," Pantalone confirmed, halting in his tracks just before your pulse, enjoying the closeness of what was almost his (or so he thought). "Whatever you might desire from me."

The offer was horrendous. He was merely tricking you into becoming his sex slave with sweet words and promises. You had no reason to believe him. But if he spoke the truth, and was a man of his word, then... maybe...

"I want a cell for myself," you tested him.

"Mhm, sure," Pantalone hummed, planting a fluttering kiss on your neck that gave you goosebumps. A brush of his lips, like tipping his credit card to a machine for quick pay.

"And I want some of the money to be transferred to a bank account outside of jail for later."

His second hand reached up, driving from your collarbones to your jaw before wrapping around it, forcing your head back. "Anything else?" Pantalone asked, a sharp, biting undertone echoing through his voice, declaring his patience running low. There was so much you could demand and so little time to demand it. But he wanted something in return, and denying him any longer wasn't an option. This had to suffice if you wanted to stay on his good side. There was only one more thing you could ask for—mercy.

"Can you... Can you promise not to do something ridiculous or embarrassing to me?"

Raising an eyebrow, he watched you intently through hooded eyelids. There was a hint of distrust in his gaze, indicating that he didn't expect a rather personal request instead of more materialistic things. "That's what you concerned with?" Pantalone asked, and you nodded your head into his palm, feeling bashful.

"I will see what I can do. However, as that is an undefined request, we'll have to test out a few things before we know for sure."

You breathed out slowly, having held your breath as you waited for his answer. "Thank you," you whispered, lowering your gaze to the contract on the table. Pantalone released you, his touch lingering as long as possible on your body until you reached his desk, picking up the pen. In your best handwriting, you wrote down the things you discussed before placing your signature on the bottom line.

No second later, Pantalone's body collided with your back, one hand slipping around your front and between your legs, finger digging into the fabric of your pants and overall, sliding between your folds and up to your clit. You gasped, threatening to let the pen fall from your hand when he caught it with his free one. Leaning over your shoulder, he put his signature over yours. If that was supposed to be this way or an accident, you didn't know. But it looked awfully possessive of you as he hastily smeared his elegant signature all over yours.

With two fingertips, he played with your clit, the fabric giving barely enough coverage but all the more friction. You struggled a little against his touch but caught between his body and his arm, it only made you grind against Pantalone more, a husky grumble in your ear making you shudder.

Wasting no more time, Pantalone reached around to your front, unzipping the overall so he could sneak his hand under your shirt and up to your chest. The lousy bras you were given gave no resistance as he tore them off, letting them fall away and baring your breast to him. "No more bras," he mumbled, kissing along the nape of your neck as he fondled your chest, leather sliding over your nipples, flicking and twisting the little knob.

"And no more panties."

"Is that a command?" you gasped as you tried to keep your composure despite the clenching of your core and the treacherous slick running down your thighs.

"Call it a work instruction," Pantalone chuckled before drawing away, his hands leaving your throbbing nerves behind lonely as you staggered forward, catching yourself on the table. Everything in you screamed to hide and defend your body, but when you felt him grip the arms of your overall, you knew it wouldn't be the one to protect you any longer.

Reluctantly, you slid off the orange prison wear, letting it fall to the floor. Behind you, Pantalone let out a deep, hungry breath, and you didn't dare to turn around to see what expression he was making. Whether it was mockery or lust, you simply didn't want to see it. When he gripped you by the neck, you leaned forward, ass in the air, as Pantalone pressed his crotch to your backside, grinding the bulge in his pants into the softness of your rear.

He grew more and more assertive, forcing you on your tiptoes as he rested his body on top of yours, dry-humping into you with need. Heat was building between you two and inside you. Strange, considering you were still against all of this, and you two weren't at a stage where the stimulation was too much to bear. Maybe Pantalone's desire was slowly wearing off on you, the hot pants brushing against your earlobes, paired with his groans, tickling something deep inside your core.

Whatever it was, you knew you had to get this whole act over with quickly. You couldn't give him the satisfaction of watching you crumble and come undone because of him just like that. Even if it was just for feeling better about yourself and your decision, you had to prove to yourself that you could be strong and withstand all of this.

A herculean task.

Your trousers were already sliding off just from the grinding when Pantalone decided to ban them into pooling around your ankles instead. Standing in only your panties before him was humiliating, but you knew it wasn't enough for him yet. Until you were stark naked and very likely out of your mind embarrassed, he'd not stop. And he proved it to you by hooking his finger around your panties, tearing them off you, and making them unwearable, his work instruction becoming more and more reality.

Now, he had much easier access to you than you liked. Without any straining fabric in the way, your cunt got to experience the leathery touch of his gloves. Cold fingers caressed your heated folds, the nerves of your clit zapping electric shocks through you. But no matter how hard you flinched or tried to escape forward, Pantalone was always there to put you back in your place against him, never letting go.

By the time he was finished teasing you, you felt dizzy from the pleasure, barely hearing him unzip his own pants until you felt the curve of his cock resting against your throbbing cunt. Pantalone wet his cock in slow, agonizing slides through your slick folds until you were ready to welcome him, his tip settling perfectly against your entrance.

You both let out moans in unison as he sunk into you. However, when you thought he had already pushed completely inside you, Pantalone made yet another step forward, sheathing every inch in your pussy, your ass bumping against his hips. There was no one you could think of that ever filled you so deeply. Whose curve aligned perfectly with your insides, and who made you feel like you would lose it after only entering you.

"I chose well," Pantalone sighed in satisfaction, breath shuddering before he pulled out slowly, treasuring the feeling of your walls clinging on to him desperately. And without warning, he plunged back in, leaving you gasping as you were pounded against his desk. There was nothing you could do but endure the exciting tingle of pleasure, capturing your every body function and every thought.

Your mind wanted to be strong, and your body just really wanted to cum.

"Move," Pantalone gasped, pulling you up by the arm. His cock slipped out of you as he directed you around the table, leaving a mess dripping out as you mewled. Immediately, you put your hand over your mouth, trying to hide the sounds that threatened to escape, but Pantalone merely laughed, amused by your frugal tries to deny your feelings.

Getting around first, he plopped down on his chair heavily, not caring about the image he usually upheld so well. Legs spread and arms on either side of the armrests, he seemed more like a king commanding his subjects than a respectable boss. Though... with the kind of contract you two had, you weren't sure if he had ever been reputable in the first place.

His cock, erect and throbbing, awaited you with a slick sheen, and you felt your core clench in longing as your eyes fell on it, long and curved, a dangerous and greedy thing just like the man attached to it. "Get on top," Pantalone instructed, waving his hand for you impatiently.

Laying your palm in his, you slung your leg over his, trying to find a space to place your knees. Pantalone pulled you taut against him, one hand grabbing your side, elevating your body until you lost your footing, relying on his support. However, his gaze snapped from the space between your hips and the tip of his cock, a demanding glint in them that made you act without any words needing to be spoken between you two.

Reaching down, you brushed your fingertips over his length, his cock pulsing hard against your hand, demanding to be led back to your entrance so it may sink inside again. However, with how the position was, you assumed Pantalone wanted you to please him, causing you to grip his dick, pleasuring him with your hand first. If it helped him to cum faster, it would only be better for you, but his fingers at your side turned into claws, signaling he wasn't impressed by your teasing.

Reluctantly, you lowered your hips, sliding his tip through your folds until you reached your entrance. You prepared yourself with a deep breath, wanting to slide down in your own tempo, but Pantalone seemed to have a different idea, slamming your hips down and buckling his at the same time. Even with your eyes wide open, you couldn't see anything but lights flicker in your vision. Next thing you knew, you moaned loudly as Pantalone urged you up and down his cock like a fleshlight.

"Mhm-! Not so... Not so f-fast!" you slurred, a smug grin jerking the corners of his lips.

"You do it, then," he relented, letting go of your body. You flopped down like a loose sack of potatoes, panting heavily. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you used them to push yourself up, biting your lip to hold back the moan after you mumbled, "Okay..."

"Okay, what?" Pantalone asked, a slap ringing out as his hand came down on your ass. This surprise was nothing you could bite down, moaning loudly, and a second slap followed right away.

"Okay, Sir!" you corrected yourself, quickening the pace in hopes he'd find it harder to aim.

"That's right," Pantalone huffed, eyes fixed on your breast jiggling before his eyes. "I'll teach you how to be more respectful to the person you belong to. Got it?"

"Mhm--! Yes! Yes, Sir!"

You must have been out of your mind, moaning and rocking your hips on your boss's lap. You'd never done these things for money. Aside from the occasional sigh and groan, the hungry gleam in his eyes, and his fingers digging into your hips, Pantalone gave you no indications or words of his satisfaction. Regardless, there was no turning back now. Not when you could already feel your toes curl.

A knock on the door finally made you regain your conscience, snapping you out of your hazy humping. Your expression grew panicked, but the door was already opening without either of you asking the person to come in. "Sir, I have the weekly reports you wanted--"

You could hear the person's jaw drop as they looked up from the papers they were bringing, eyes landing on your bare ass, their gaze tingling on your skin as it drove upwards, trying to see who it belonged to. Your whole head felt ablaze after being caught in this unseemingly position, your pussy still dripping with all your juices even in this kind of situation.

"Not a good time right now," Pantalone said, waving his hand dismissingly but appearing unbothered otherwise.

"I- I was- There--" the person behind you stammered, and you simply wanted to die the longer you could feel them checking out your body. This was probably the worst case you could have imagined when you took the 'job'. Pantalone sighed, and you recognized his telling signs by now. If you learned anything, then that he wasn't a very patient man.

Gripping you from underneath your thighs, he lifted you up, bucking his hips into you, making you gasp loudly before letting you fall back first on top of his desk. After the initial shock and pain, you forced your eyes open again, staring straight into the eyes of the young guard who had greeted you upon coming in and acted as a secretary to Pantalone. It was infuriatingly embarrassing to be seen like this, disheveled and so close to your orgasm, especially when Pantalone put your legs around his hips, jerking them until you got the hint and wrapped them around him on your own before he plunged back deep inside you.

Covering you with his own body from the horrified and, at the same time, intrigued glances, he looked up at his secretary in annoyance. "Look at them again, and I'll gauge out your eyes. If you have any sense of self-preservation, leave. I am busy."

That finally released the young man from his state of shock. He stumbled over his own feet, muttering apologies to no one in particular and slamming the door behind him, which caused Pantalone to huff. Lowering his gaze back to you, you were still embarrassed beyond belief when he asked, "Was this sufficient?"

"No!" you yelled, immediately lowering your voice after noticing the irritated glint in his eyes after you screamed into his face. "This is terrible! They saw me... doing this... here..."

"I'll install a lock then," he promised calmly, pushing his irritation aside for you and rolling his hips. You let out a frustrated groan as your pleasure spiked again, and Pantalone put his lips to your throat, nibbling on your skin as he pounded into you. You could hardly decide which position had felt the best, but you knew you were done for. Pleasure-wise and your reputation.

"Sir," you whimpered. "I'll... I'll--"

"Cum," he muttered into your collarbone. "I don't mind you feeling pleasure because of me. Just make sure to finish the job."

Nodding meekly, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding on to him tightly as Pantalone began pounding harder, his cock throbbing inside you, so close to bursting as well. He gripped the edge of the table tightly, his knuckles turning white as your toes curled, back arching, needily wanting to be closer to him even more so close before being pushed over the edge.

Cumming on this amazing cock wasn't hard, not when it seemed to check off the best spots like a veteran explorer of your body. All the harder was the orgasm. Your moans were no longer muffled. Tears shot in your eyes as you began to see stars again, your nails raking through the uniform jacket with the intent to destroy.

It was over way too fast.

After the height, you crashed too hard, tears overflowing as you realized you couldn't even keep a little bit of your dignity. Soon everyone would know what you were doing with the chief of finances. It wouldn't even be rumors that he was fucking you in his office for money. It would all be true. And what was even worse was Pantalone knowing he had won. He convinced you to play by his rules, obey his commands, and on top of it, made you cum even before himself.

You sobbed as he plowed through your orgasm, heavy breathing that felt like flames licking at you and the feeling of his cock pulsing inside you. Reaching over to grip you by your hair, Pantalone turned your head in front of his, moving forward to kiss you. "N-No!" Already feeling disgusted by yourself, you denied access by averting your face, his orgasm coming and going without him finding refuge and pleasure in a kiss.

When your eyes darted briefly to his face, you expected it to be filled with satisfaction or victorious madness, but instead, he stared at you coldly, bitterly. You hadn't realized this kiss would mean so much, but it seemed like you ruined his orgasm for him, which made you... happy.

Pulling out, you didn't even care that you'd have to clean up the mess he left behind to drip out of you. You sat up slowly, watching as your boss wiped his cock clean before discarding the stained leather gloves, throwing them on top of you. "Get off my desk," he commanded, and you strained your tense back, feeling the pain from being thrown on the wood roughly before. You managed to get down before Pantalone sat in his chair again, rolling back up to his desk with an irritated expression on his face.

"Go and get some wet wipes and clean this disgusting mess you made," Pantalone instructed, and you gulped, clearly hearing his anger through his voice, even though you found the blame unfair. Going around the desk, you picked up your clothes, quickly putting them on again.

"I'd love to send you there naked, you know. You probably enjoyed being seen more than you admitted."

Catching his eyes, you gulped, blurting out something you should have rather kept inside. "Are you really that mad because I didn't kiss you?"

You could feel the anger emanating from him as he stared at you, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fist. "S-Sorry," you muttered quickly, lowering your gaze and hurrying to zip up your overalls (all the way!) before running to the door. You dreaded having to look into the faces in the office space waiting just outside. Still, it was better than staying inside with the mad tyrant of the financial department. You had a feeling you'd not get away unharmed if you dared to test his patience any longer.

However, just as you wanted to turn the knob, a hand slammed into the door next to you. You jerked away but were grabbed by your upper arm and kept in place right beside him.

"I think you forgot who's in charge here. You need me, but you're just a diversion for me—a break from work. There are enough other gullible prisoners dying for a chance at what you have. Never forget I fucking own you. You signed the contract. You're mine to do with whatever I please. Don't you dare ever deny me again."

Pantalone didn't allow you to look into his eyes, but you were glad that he stood behind you so you didn't have to face him as he spat these words into your ear. Gulping, you nodded, his grip tightening around your arm for a moment before he let go, taking a step back.

"Kiss me," he said, voice as monotone as it sounded dangerous. It was his way of proving you really understood what he just said and your position. What you meant to him. That you were caving and submitting to him, or you knew he'd make your life miserable. It made you want to cry again, pathetic and captured in his scheme as you were, but you choked back the tears, turning around and stepping up to him.

Reaching up, you cupped his cheeks with shaky hands. Your gut revolted at even the thought of having to kiss this man, but you took a quick breath, calming yourself. It was just a kiss. What could go wrong? You already rode his dick and let him make you cum harder than anyone ever before, you shouldn't feel this ashamed with simple and insignificant affection in comparison.

And yet, watching his features soften as he leaned down, you were horrified to see the affection in his gaze just before your lips united. You wanted to end it quickly, but his arms wrapped around your midriff, pulling you close, unwilling to let go as he licked over your lips, slipping inside as you gasped. Pantalone didn't let you back away, involving you in a deep kiss, no matter how much you clawed your fingers into his arms, kissing you again and again until you were gasping for air.

But only when he was satisfied with tasting you did he finally let go, pushing you from him as if it meant nothing to him, turning and walking back to his desk. "The wipes?" he asked goadingly, patting the wood, discarding you just like that, high and dry.

"Of course..." you mumbled, confused about the sudden change in his wants. Just now, he had been angry about you not kissing him, and now he wanted nothing from you all of a sudden?

"Of course what?"

"Of course, Sir!" you corrected yourself, hurrying to leave the room, even with the horrified faces awaiting you on the other side.

Leaving behind one smug Pantalone, watching his toy running off to get the supplies so they could clean the desk before he'd make them dirty it once again. Over and over until your mind would be so broken, you'd not know anything other than the pleasure of his cock. Touching his fingers to his lips, he could still feel your plump softness caressing them, your taste lingering on the tip of his tongue.

Next time, you'd kiss him as he claimed you. And if his workday wasn't long enough, Pantalone was sure he could find a reason to take you home with him so you could warm his cock all night long. There was still so much he wanted to see—mostly you choking on his cock, crying, and begging him to make you cum. You were the best candidate he had in a while, and there was no better stress relief than a desperate little prisoner writhing beneath him. He might not be as patient as to wait days again for you to come around and fulfill all the things he wanted to do to you.

But he would, most definitely, get his fill for what he was paying.

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@just-simping-over-genshin​ | @whatthefuckbabysalad | @tonightwrites​

[abyssmalice]

(entertaining myself at 3am imagining a scenario of pantalone being dropped into star rail unceremoniously and he ends up working under one of the stonehearts)

[lavenderchqn]

synopsis — your social battery runs out pairings — partner!capitano, dottore , columbina, arlecchino, pantalone and tartaglia x gn! reader (separate) warnings — mentions of headaches; general chaos incarnate — dottore breaks the 4th wall, childe may or may not know how to look for a person... and pantalone's catering to my tastes notes — guess who's back!! it's been so long since I've posted anything with harbingers so it only felt correct to return with our favourite criminals ~

CAPITANO

DOTTORE

COLUMBINA

ARLECCHINO

PANTALONE

TARTAGLIA

date of posting — october 21st 2024

[morose-melodies]

i need dottore,tartaglia,pantalone and capitano(those were in my mind for a while and its killing me) with a reader who always tries to escape.using different tactics each time but always ends up failing.and one day,the reader hads enough and snaps "if you didnt take away and acted like a normal person from the start,i could have loved you"

İf you dont want to or dont feel like writing,thats ok👍

failing attempts | various! yandere! harbingers x reader

CAPITANO

this was escape attempt five.

you truly were optimistic, but capitano wouldn't let you leave him so easily.

your escape attempts seemed to be getting more and more desperate and, therefore, more dangerous to you.

you had attempted to jump out of a window the night before, just as he was arriving home from a mission. the sheer terror he felt as he watched you lean out of the second-floor window was insurmountable.

now, not only was the front door locked shut from the outside, but the windows were now barricaded too. you were a danger to yourself.

and all capitano ever wanted was for you to be safe and with him. was that too much to ask for? was that so terribly wrong of him?

the captain didn't want to take extreme measures to keep you home; he didn't want to lock you in a room, nor did he want to tie you down. he wasn't the sort. He just wanted you to stay without any excessive force.

but you were pushing him into a corner.

this morning, you had darted out of the backdoor, still in your pajamas and without shoes, into the cold.

you didn't make it far at all. you had barely made it over the garden fence, and you were stumbling now.

the captain... sighed as he followed after you. it wasn't an extreme chase; you hadn't even tried to fight back as usual when he caught you; you just stumbled on about something incomprehensible as he wrapped you up into his coat and lifted you into his arms.

"that was terribly immature of you," looking down at you, the captain felt sorry for you, "I would like it if you would stay home but if you plan on leaving, please do wear proper clothing next time. i can not bear the thought of you dying out in the cold."

"if you didn't take me away," at this point, perhaps death was better than being stuck with him, "and if you acted like a normal person," but, you wanted to go home - you wanted to be with your family, "I could've loved you."

capitano's mind blanked. he had given you a chance to come with him freely; he had been kind to you, so were you not lying?

it didn't matter now, did it? "(y/n), you do understand you've caused all this trouble, correct? should you have been a bit more understanding, you wouldn't be in this situation. i love you. Is that not obvious? i only want to see you thrive and to be happy."

he was at the point of no return; he could only go backward from here.

DOTTORE

to take time out of dottore's day, to make him leave the manor to come find you for what seemed like the millionth time - he was admittedly quite frustrated with you.

he found you hanging from the gate, your coat caught on the spike of it.

he grinned - this was a funny sight, but, at the same time, it wasn't funny at all. he was actually very disappointed in you.

dottore approached the gate, standing behind you, "tell me just how long have you been hanging here for?"

your nose was running, and you looked absolutely defeated. when you don't reply, dottore clicks his tongue, shaking his head, "Would your life not be simpler if you just accepted your situation? This is such a pitiful sight, (y/n)."

dottore unlocked the gate and walked outside of him, and he helped you down and brushed off the snow that piled on your coat.

"let's go, (y/n)," dottore grabbed your forearm and prepared to pull you back towards the manor, "I've had enough of your antics - perhaps a night or two in the basement would do you well."

"no-" you tugged back, attempting to free your arm from his grip, "stop it! you make me s-so sick! just let me go!"

"(y/n), please. you've done nothing be give me grief," dottore sighed, tugging you along with him, "I don't understand why you feel that being stubborn will get you anywhere."

"you... don't understand?" you grumbled, digging your feet into the snow, trying to pull your weight, trying to stop dottore from getting you back inside, "you're kidding me! i hate you! You're disgusting and unlovable!"

"(y/n), lower your voice - I'm exhausted and you're giving me a migraine," dottore sighed, stopping and getting a better hold on your arm before tugging you along once more.

"if you have yet to notice, I'm quite content with just having you near. i don't exactly need your love to make me feel any better than i do now. hm, that's the sort of effect you have on me."

you went quiet and dottore assumed you had worn yourself out. he brought you inside and sat you down in front of the fireplace, his hand rubbing circles on your shoulder.

"I could've loved you... maybe if you hadn't taken me away..." you trailed off, holding your hands in front of the fire. Why did he continue to act as if he cared for you? "maybe, um, if you were normal, I could've loved you."

dottore smiled at you, though you couldn't see it, "whether you love me or not is trivial - i have you, (y/n), and that's what I need. you, (y/n), you're all I need."

PANTALONE

pantalone was above getting dirty.

it was nothing personal. he'd do just about anything else for you! he just couldn't imagine himself running around late at night trying to find you.

what was the point when he had other fatuus to do such things for him? they have yet to fail him.

so, while you were out, trying to leave pantalone as multiple fatuus' chased after you, pantalone was running you a warm bath and set a pair of clean clothes out for you.

he knew you'd come back filthy. You always did.

he wondered what he could do to keep you home. He wasn't one for forceful methods; he would hate to hurt you. you were his pride and joy.

pantalone would sigh deeply, dipping his hand into the bathwater to make sure it was still warm.

you never wanted anything from pantalone... well, except for that one time, you asked for a can of soup, but then you used it to smash the bathroom window open and jumped out...

that didn't exactly count.

he heard the front door open and knew you were being dragged in now. the guards weren't gentlemen, quite the contrary, in truth.

you always looked so sad and defeated after the caught you.

"oh, (y/n)," pantalone held a hand to his chest as he stood from where he kneeled at the side of the tub, he stepped forward and wanted to embrace you but you were a mess, "you're a mess."

he frowned at you, as the guards released you and shut the bathroom door behind them as they left. "you must be cold, oh dear," his heart ached for you, such a pitiful sight you were.

you were so lucky that he loved you.

he attempted to remove your top, but you tensed, making it hard for him, "do-don't touch me."

"but you're filthy," pantalone reasoned, once again trying to remove your top but you wouldn't budge, "(y/n), I'm doing this because I love you so very much. please, don't make this hard."

"I don't-" you stepped back, shaking your head at him, "I don't want your help. g-get out, just leave."

pantalone's lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at you, "what's the matter? i-i'm not mad at you, not at all. I understand that i must be lacking something-"

"get out! my gosh, wh-what's with you!? just leave!"

"(y/n)..."

"get out! get out! leave!"

"please, calm down. let me help you undress, alright? You're in a bad mood, i get it. That's no excuse to be rude to someone who loves you dearly," pantalone spoke to you as if he were your mother.

he reached forward and tugged off your shirt with extra force; it wasn't much force; it was just in case you were prepared to tense up again!

"there we go," pantalone cooed as he eased you into the warm bath. he washed your hair for you, making sure to scrub extra hard to get the muck out of your hair.

it was, in a way, soothing...

if only...

"if you hadn't... taken me away and, um," you sniffled, raising your hand to wipe at your nose, "if you were normal... i could've loved you."

instead of offending, that pleased pantalone. what he was hearing was 'you liked him for who he was' and there was nothing better than hearing that.

hm, if only he hadn't taken you away.

"that is the kindest thing you've ever said to me," pantalone smiled, "thank you, (y/n)."

CHILDE

it was a sort of game to childe at this point.

how many times could you attempt to escape this week? how many times would you curse him to hell? how many times would you glare at him today?

he had to find humor in it, or else, he'd lose his mind. after all, there was no easy way to cope with the love of his life hating his guts.

in truth, he had been a bit overbearing the past few days - there was a snowstorm outside and he couldn't allow you to be out in that sort of weather alone.

so, as he stared out the window, looking at the rapidly falling snow, all he could think about was if only something was different. perhaps if the two of you were childhood sweethearts, maybe if the two of you had met before he fell into the abyss, or maybe if the two of you were neighbors.

he, at one point, had gotten so desperate to keep you home that he bent to your will - anything you asked, he did. you never really asked much of him, though...

well, unless telling him to go away was a question.

he was so busy thinking of all the "what ifs" that he didn't notice you running past the window and into the snowy woods.

well, he did, but it just didn't click for him at the moment.

and when it did click? he was out the door, tugging his coat on, not even bothering to shut it behind himself.

"c'mon, (y/n), now is not the time for this!" he called out, watching as you ran around a tree and seemingly "disappeared."

he knew you too well. you expected him to run around the tree to look for you, but he wouldn't; he watched as you emerged from the other side of the tree and pulled you into his open arms.

you can't use the same trick twice on him.

he held you against his chest - he didn't mind that you were nudging at his chest, trying to get away from him. "c'mon, it's pretty cold out here. I'll make you tea when we get back inside."

"no! im not going back!" you nudged harder at his chest, trying to get out of his hold.

"I said we're going back in. we really need to talk ab-"

"there's nothing to talk about! you're not normal and i won't love you!"

he thought had heard it all from you, so, hearing this wasn't anything new, but, what was new was hearing you say:

"if you wanted me to love you, maybe you should've been normal," you paused, and childe's hold on you loosened, his arms going slack at his sides and he looked down at you, "if you didn't take me away... and maybe if you acted like a normal person from the start-"

once again, you paused and took a step back away from him. childe didn't want to hear what you were going to say, even as he imagined what you might say, his chest ached... he wouldn't be able to handle it, "(y/n), let's just go in, okay? i don't want to hear it from you."

"- i could've loved you."

oh, it hurt so badly.

childe tried so hard to be unbothered, so, why was he so hurt from hearing this? he loved you, and he's tried everything to make you understand just how much he loved you, and now you say that you'll never love him.

it hurt, of course, but he's come so far.

childe strongly believes that people can change, anyway. so, he'd keep trying his absolute hardest for you until you buckled and confessed that you loved him back.

but, in the meantime...

"you can still love me," he said, with a weak smile, "I've been good to you, (y/n) and I think I deserve some credit for being so patient, right?"

[baohanhanesel]

Another set of scribbles for Dottolone...

They officially took over my brain.

💰: Oh, my dearest companion.

💉: (Visibly confused and equally aroused) Tf?

💰: You forgot to pay.

💉: ( Speechless by choice, silently hoping for more than a chin grab. Naturally down bad for the other.)

I love the dynamic where Dottore is just far too down bad for anything Pantalone does while still managing to remain clueless about his own feelings. He thinks Pantalone just frustrates him.

Meanwhile, Pantalone is aware of everything. He is an unhinged and insatiable bastard depending on the leaks we got so far. So he is making use of the opportunity till Dottore notices just what these feelings are.

[darkjazzpunk]

Baizhus rumors...

I would love to have a ingame reaction of Baizhu reacting to all this rumors fans made up about him over the last two years (from being the dendro Archon/ the last sunchild/ just Changshengs puppet to him being pantalone/s twin or owning the pearl galley) but he's just this dude with a chronic illness, a pet snake and a nack for medicine.

I want him to laugh so hard about it that the pain of his diaphragm overshadows the pain he suffers from each day for a short while and leaves him painfree for a few minutes afterwards T.T

[mayullla]

Okay so how about Childe's workplace, I thought it would be nice to see what the first meeting between you his sister and his workmates are like.

Genshin 13 stepbrother au; child!reader, fem!reader, modern au, platonic fluff, crack

"Hoo, always knew that guy was a maniac for his siblings and always wanted a sister but I didn't think he would go so far as to brainwash a small kid," Scara complained as he looked at you. Doe eyes look innocently at him looked so different from the crazed eyes Childe had when it comes to work and a lot of things in general.

"They look nothing alike."

"Hey, don't you think you are a little mean comrade?" Childe tried to smile but it seems nobody believed it really when there was a hostile aura surrounding him.

"She is such a cutie tho... here would you like a candy?" Marionette smiled at you eyes closed you wondered what her eye color was. Handing you a little strawberry candy that was like the color of her hair. "Hold on you already gave her too many" "But she is just so cute Capitano I can't help but spoil her!"

"I can't believe that you lost her. It is only a good thing that Capitano was the one who found the little girl and she wasn't scared of him." La Signora placed her chin on her hand resting on an armchair she glanced at you and then at Capitano.

It was an amusing situation really. Childe had been going on and on about finally having a little sister he could physically actually dot on. He showed them every picture he took of you to the point some of them had to actually run away so that he would not be dragging their ears with his adoration for you. The many times they slammed their doors and locked them the moment they saw Childe's excited proud eyes and his phone turned on with the gallery opened.

How amusing it was the day he was supposed to bring his little sister to the office to show off did he lose her?

Childe or Tartaglia was frantically looking for you at the 50-story buildings hoping to even find a hair of yours. The two that he somehow managed to drag in his search were La Signora and Scaramouche. (much to their annoyance)

So after actual hours of searching for you, they could only stare quietly at you who was in the lap of Capitano and feed cookies by Columbina. It seems that Dottore was the one who found you and because you recognize who he was from seeing a picture from Childe's phone you started to trail after him.

Much to his annoyance.

He didn't know why a child would even be here! But you were, as you continued to follow him even after he told you not to. You looked so lost and confused in the middle of the halls and offices at what you were supposed to do when he told you to leave multiple times yet instead hesitantly chose to ignore his words and continue following him. (Pantalone had an amused smile on his face when he saw Dottore followed by a child. Patting your head in greeting but didn't do anything to help and left the poor man to deal with you by himself.)

It was when he saw Capitano he wondered if he would finally get you off his tail thinking you would become scared of the other man and run away like most kids do when they see him. Instead, you looked at him curiously asking if he was Capitano. It was a weird sight for many as Capitano was a little confused at your existence but still answered your question. (Dottore took this as a chance to escape.)

So here you were now the kitchen used for the higher-ups in the company. Capitano had quickly figured out that you were the step-sister of Childe and decided to bring you to the poor man who was searching for you when he heard your stomach grumble.

"You were here all along?" Childe asked weakly trying his best to smile. You nodded your head smiling, small cookie crumbs stuck to your mouth. Childe looked at Capitano his eyes asking- begging to tell him when has he not told him about the fact that he found you.

"I called you several times and even messaged you but you didn't answer," Capitano explained, looking at the other two behind Childe barely able to contain their evil laughter unsure if he should tell the weeping guy (who unfortunately forgot his phone at the car and too much of a panic to even notice that he didn't even have it) that he also informed the two about you too...

Let's just not.