#pantalone x reader

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ The little gifts they give you

(Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Tartaglia)

tw: none, pure fluff

✧ Pierro – Love letters hidden in the house

When you awaken in the hush of dawn, your beloved is nowhere to be seen in the house. He often rises before the world stirs, summoned by his obligations as the Fatui Director during the first rays of dawn. However, even if he has to depart as you sleep soundlessly, it’s never without leaving a small note by his pillow.

A small, beautiful card, meticulously folded and inked in his elegant cursive. A masterful piece full of words that he yearns to speak when he is away at work. You only opened your eyes, yet a smile already graces your lips when you spot the letter on his side of the bed. It reads:

“You sleep like a tender beauty, your thoughts are my constant companion. Even when you rise, the pillows and covers grieve for the absence of your warmth, like the departure of summer, leaving but the coldness of winter. So does my heart miss you when I am away. May you rise like a blooming Leucojum, starting off your morning well, while I think of you every waking second.”

He often did that, leaving you small sonnets around the house while he was away at work. His fancy for poetry and writing had endured since his noble youth in ancient Khaenri’ah, a love untouched by time. This way, even when he’s away, he still manages to bring a smile to your face first thing in the mornings.

You’d find other letters elsewhere. One day, he’d leave it in your study room:

“The pen and paper you write in get graced by your wisdom. The tomes that line your shelves store knowledge for your interest, each page covets your attention. Share your discoveries with me when I am back, my divine.” 

Another, he’d hide it by the dresser:

“When you don your attire for the day, the stars and moons would gasp in awe. Yet it is I alone who bear witness to your truest splendor. I count the second until I may once again gather you in my arms, to undo every silken layer-” 

Oops, never mind. Best not to read that one aloud. Too intimate for wandering eyes. Either way, throughout the months, you’d collect these little love letters, always keeping them safe as a memo, giddy whenever you reread them, or stashing them happily for safekeeping. For such excellent penmanship, the Jester truly deserves some extra adoration from you. 

✧ Il Capitano – Exotic flowers and seeds from all over Teyvat

‘Is a bouquet of flowers too cliche a gift for someone you miss?’ – the Harbinger pondered to himself. He stood by the outskirts of Kannazuka, not far from Yashiori Island, where the solemn sea breeze swept by crimson Dendrobium petals. He heard from locals that these flowers were thought to be instinct, yet returned to where blood was once spilled on Inazuman soil.

You’d appreciate the austere symbolism of such flora, and the Captain knelt before carefully picking it by the stem. He paid respect to each bloom, as any warrior who understands the grievances of a quiet battlefield would. Thus, by the time his mission drew to its quiet end, the 1st of the Fatui Harbinger appeared with a bouquet presented to your arms.

“Hm? You plucked these, Capi?” – You looked at him curiously, the bouquet massive in your arms. “But that means they will wilt soon.”

The Captain’s helmet dipped slightly, his unreadable face betraying a flicker of hesitance. Perhaps this was a bad idea?

“...I apologize, do you dislike them?”

You smiled at him, with meticulous swiftness, you moved with the bouquet, searching for an appropriate vase, and to fill it with water. The Dendrobiums were indeed exquisite, yet what you desired was their preservation, especially if such blossoms bore no seeds to sow. Thus, your beloved watched in fascinated silence as you showed him how to remove extraneous leaves and guard petals. It will help the flowers last longer. Now, the Captain had more ideas.

During his other expeditions, he no longer sought out just any flowers; he would seek intel on horticulture or where to purchase high-quality seeds. If he’d purchased flowers, he’d barter for seeds rather than stems and purchase plants nestled in earthen pots. If only you had witnessed the face of the poor Mondstadtian girl who overlooked the Floral Whisper shop - Flora. She went silent as to why a Harbinger was questioning how to properly maintain Windwheel Aster during transport. In truth, he was so excited to bring his beloved one more exotic plant, he could only think of your expression when you see the petals spin in the breeze. 

Thus, you found yourself with a makeshift garden, brought to you proudly by Capitano. Each flower is a fragment of his journeys, a testament of his quiet devotion. He even helped construct a modest greenhouse, sturdy and sun-warmed, to shelter those blooms that craved warmer climates. Now, every time the Harbinger is away and spots a single flower blooming in the wild, his mind wanders back to you; what else might my beloved like? 

✧ Il Dottore – Small inventions to make your life easier

To love someone doesn’t equal to lavishing that person with materialistic luxuries. Dottore knows you have little taste for frivolity, acquiring only what necessity demands. Instead, he attends to subtler needs: when you scribble in your notebooks for hours, your fingers get tired from clutching a pen, the side of your palms are smeared with either ink or graphite. Hence, one evening, he returns with a set of gloves.

“Here, give me your hand,” – he said busily, already cradling your palms as he carefully put on two-finger writing gloves, securing your skin in comfort against the soft material. “I ensured the design is versatile when you’re writing something, without tiring or smudging your hand. Tell me if it feels better.”

You never even noticed or complained about the ache. At times, the Doctor saw you plop down on the sofa, tired and whining from cleaning around. You were always meticulous with your personal space, but none is immune from the hassle of vacuuming, dusting, or cleaning the floors. Especially if it gave you a night of painful back pain. Hiring attendants would have been the simplest solution, he thought. But he preferred an idea far more personal.

“Take this,” – he casually handed you a circular device. You blinked in confusion but accepted the new state-of-the-art machinery. “An automatic vacuum cleaner. It will map out the layout of the house so it can sweep the floors whenever you’re away. Spare yourself the drudgery.”

And another time, when you were delighted by your purchase of a sweet bubble tea beverage, you wistfully lamented how difficult it was to replicate such indulgences at home. Oh well, you shrugged, but Dottore was sitting nearby, already scheming a blueprint.

A week later, your kitchen bore a marvel: a gleaming coffee and tea machine, capable of brewing, frothing, even carbonating any beverage you wished. You just have to throw in the ingredients of your choice. Be it coffees, matchas, smoothies, or bubble teas, not even Fontainian cafes had such appliances.

“Dottore, when did you have the time to wipe out such a machine? That’s massive work!” – you inquired curiously one day, but The Harbinger waved his hand dismissively, stating:

“Hm? Oh, why, this is hardly a strain. I don’t like seeing you toil over menial tasks or seek out solutions that will just burn through your Mora. If you are in want of anything, you can always ask me. You know that, correct?”

Even in matters where you never uttered a single complaint, Dottore’s ever observant nature remained unfaltering. He would silently bask in the sight of you, committing every small nuance of your life and habits to memory. He’d sit with his chin resting on his palm, silently smiling as you enjoyed his inventions or the little knick-knacks around his lab that brought your sincere smile.  

✧ Scaramouche – Learning to cook your favourite dishes

The Ballader never grasped humanity’s fascination with food. Concerning sustenance, survival required little. Animals hunted their prey without fanfare, yet humankind alone had transformed eating into a cult. Fawning over flavors? Creating restaurants? Scaramouche never got it, even when he first lived as an innocent puppet in the rural village of Tataratsuna.

So why was he here, eyebrows furrowed as he looked over the sizzling meat on the stove? Somehow, against all reason, the Harbinger cooked an entire meal exclusively for you! 

“Ah, you’re back at last. Come here,” – he beckoned you diligently to sit down, presenting you with a bowl of Gyudon, a beef and rice bowl topped with egg yolk on top. You obeyed, baffled yet in pure awe, while Scaramouche sat opposite you with arms crossed. “Well? Don’t just glare at it. Taste it!” 

So you did. “Um, Scara… did you cook this?”

He nodded silently.

“Did you… Add any soy sauce anywhere? Maybe salt or mirin?”

Oh no.

Turns out, cooking is no simple art form. There are careful blends of spices and garnishes that make even the simplest dishes outstanding. And unfortunately for the Ballader, he missed all the steps, underestimating the power of spices that one must add to the beef. He watched you gulp down with a nervous, hesitant smile. You radiated so much encouragement that it ached. Scaramouche said nothing, only sat broodingly still. Nonetheless, he had to remind himself that he was no longer in Tataratsune. The simple folks there often kept rice as a garnish, and many imports of spices never reached the rural islands of Inazuma. He does not have to run barefoot to scavenge for Lavender Melons from wind-worn hills.

He didn’t let that deter him. Little by little, he paid more attention to the spices he had to put in. Never too much, never too little. Noticing your love for rich flavors and blends of textures, The Harbinger challenges the kitchen like an enemy, learning new dishes and methods. When you simply asked him why the sudden hobby, he replied:

“I thought humans liked homecooking. So I hoped one day you’d come… knowing there would be some. Isn’t that where a home is?”

“Oh, Scara,” - your hand found the curve of his back, to which he never leaned away. “I think you’re a quick learner, because you made leaps of progress. And your last dish, the Unagi Chazuke? It was perfect.”

“You don’t have to sugarcoat it, you know?” – he mused whistfully.

“No, I mean it. I think Chazukes are your best. But don’t get discouraged. Inazuman cuisine focuses on subtle blends of saltiness and sweetness, relying on ingredients like rice vinegar, sesame oil, or soy sauce. But Sumeru? Oh, I heard they have all kinds of spices out there!”

You went on and on with unbridled enthusiasm, weaving tales of harra fruits ground into rare, fragrant spices, prized all over Teyvat. Scaramouche listened silently, more in delight at your simple excitement. Perhaps he started to understand why humans focused so much on food. Not out of survival, but as a cultural effort to spend time together, a silent way to stay a little longer. Because whenever he sat down with you over a meal, it felt more than just an indulgence.

Maybe if he ever gets the chance, he should visit Sumeru…? 

✧ Pantalone – His coats or clothing after each date

It started by sheer coincidence. One time, the two of you were enjoying a splendid afternoon, when suddenly the wind stirred without warning, bearing the chill of an impending October rain. Caught unprepared without an umbrella, and before the two of you could bid farewell for the day, Pantalone stopped you.

“Wait, honey,” – he deftly unbuttoned his coat, wrapping it around your form from behind and adjusting the fur-lined collar to shield you from the cold. “Here, wear this along the road. If it starts raining, the hood of this coat will keep you spotless.”

You wanted to protest, but when The Harbinger saw you half-swallowed by the voluminous fabric, only your gaze barely peeking through, it demanded every ounce of restraint to maintain his gentlemanly expression. ‘My… my sweetheart! They look utterly precious! Like a bundled burrito!’

Your words of worry slipped past him from one ear to the other – “Ahem. Nonsense, my love. You can keep it for now.” 

On another occasion, when he had invited you for a pleasant dinner date at his estate, the atmosphere bloomed with warmth and quiet comfort. The candlelit table was set, as you aided him in arranging the plates and dishes in the dining room. Pantalone, ever at ease in your presence, casually shrugged off his sweater, remaining in a crisp button-up now that the fireplace’s warmth embraced the indoors. However, it wasn’t until you wore his sweater after dinner that he realized he had left it on the sofa, and it piqued your curiosity.

“Ah, if I had a camera on me right now, I would’ve taken a hundred photo shots of you!”

“Sorry, sorry, I can give your sweater back.”

“Not a chance now. Keep it!”

Thus, a habit was formed. Whether by intent or by innocent accident, Pantalone would gladly share with you his wardrobe – be it coats, scarves, his pieces of jewelry, or bigger lounging shirts. You assumed he let you borrow them, like the loving boyfriend that he is. Yet he never asked for them back, even when you suggested taking them off, stating proudly:

“Honey, I have plenty more in my closet. If I were in dire need of taking them back, I could simply purchase tailor-made once more. But I’d rather see you wear them. You look splendid in my clothes.”

It stirred a quiet pride within the Regrator, to be accompanied by his sweetheart in public, and the people recognizing his iconic coat draped over your shoulder. A clear message of who has his heart cupped in their palms, and who he adores beyond reverent adoration.

Yet what truly stole the crown is when you’re together in the comfort of your home, and decide to forgo any garments and simply slip into one of his button-up shirts. He’d find you, re-emerged from the bathroom, looking all cleaned and refreshed, your figure clad in his shirt.

All the blood leaves his head. There is not a single thought in his brain - just the image of you. In bed, his button-up shirt the sole remaining piece covering your figure.

“You know, Pantalone, I must admit - I love the feeling of your clothes. They’re soft and comfortable, yet they carry a whiff of your scent. Thank you for not mind me wearing them. I can give it back if y-... Dear?”

Yep, he’s about to pass out. His beloved is too beautiful. 

✧ Tartaglia – Plushies as souvenirs from different regions

The young Harbinger took a deep breath, cracked his knuckles, and stretched his neck. A recent mission in Liyue lay completed behind him, but did that mean he could rest and take a break? No, alas, the battle has only started. And today’s battle is shopping in the busy markets of Liyue in search of gifts and souvenirs. 

He often makes a mental list of what presents to bring home to Snezhnaya. New fishing gear for his father, fine garments for his dear sister Tonia, rare tomes for Anthon, and vibrant Liyue kites for little Teucer. His arms often returned so laden with offerings that his family affectionately dubbed him Ded Moroz, or as Teucer would shout in delight upon his arrival: “Father Christmas is back home!” 

Nonetheless, despite the massive ordeal of finding appropriate gifts, the task Childe found most effortless is finding you all sorts of figurines and plushies from each region. 

Maybe this Rex Lapis dragon plushie? No, you already have a five-foot-tall one at home; no need for another. Perhaps this rotund bird plush, fashioned after some grumpy Liyue adeptus? Oh, but there are also beautiful plushies from Fontaine, resembling Blubberbeasts and otters. Even though the sight of otter plushies gave him a dreadful sense of déjà vu. Truly, there were far too many to choose from.

And knowing Tartaglia, his heart would cave in and purchase all of them for you either way. He would return home triumphant, adding to your ever-growing collection, until your bed became a veritable kingdom of pillowy plush creatures, half of them functioning as pillows all over the house. No matter what your cherished brought, you’d smile in delight at his safe return, but laugh when he proudly presented the chunky blubberbeast plush with a boyish grin.

“Oh, by the way, look! I also bought this,” – he suddenly stated and handed you a masterfully crocheted keychain of a little Sumeru creature. Its stitched smile looking silly.

“Ajax, what is that?” - you chuckled, more amused by the Harbinger’s goofy smile.

“The shopkeeper called it an Aranara. There is a legend in Sumeru that these little wood critters roam the jungles, but are only visible to children who retain their innocent childhood imagination.”

You turned the keychain over in your hands, pondering where best to fasten it. It was charming, like every other token Childe so thoughtfully brought you. Yet truth be told, everyone knows your favourite plushy to cuddle was not the entourage of souvenirs, but the Harbinger who bought them. And in Childe’s mind, that alone was the sweetest victory he could claim.

(Some lovelies kindly asked me if I can add the Harbinger missing in my fanfics. I try to keep those specific characters in my stories, but if you ever see me not include Scara or let's say Childe - it's not because I forgot or dislike them, but because sometime in the process of writing I do not want to repeat the same tropes for all the characters depending on the headcanons :< thank you for reading so far)

[angelfishe]

"𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍"

>> Genshin man x reader

<< characters : diluc, kaeya, ayato, alhaitham, zhongli, neuvillete, wriotsheley, childe, capitano, dottore, pantalone >>

Warnings : MDNI, contain sexual content

⚠️MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE ⚠️

DILUC, very flustered unable to form a sentence after the climax, exhausted to the point you have to serve the customer instead. he's unable to form a sentence, sweat is around his body, his clothes are a mess as well him breathing heavily as if he just went thru a marathon, some Patreon would ask what's wrong with him, and you just replied in his place saying his just tired.

KAEYA, smirking with his clothes disheveled as well as his hair as if someone has been pulling on it, jean asked him what's wrong and he said he just had the best lunch of his life with a satisfied smile and in his office paper are scattered and crinkle as if someone has been sitting on his desk. Jean doesn't question it but the knights that were guarding his office stand with a flustered look as if witnessing and hearing somethings.

AYATO, appears as in his normal self, not a single disheveled or messy hair always appears with a smile and a satisfied look, very dignified the stress on his face disappear after you went into the office bringing him tea and snacks when his working his documents, him leaving the office with a very disheveled you going inside the bedroom, and sometimes during a meeting or a party you and him would leave and go for a "walk".

ALHAITHAM, with a straight face focus on his book as if he didn't spend the last few hours ago having fun with you, the only difference is pink blush that is on his ear, plus in this state he's very emotional in this state, smirking a few times when you were limping next to him, him supporting your entire body. And would order your favorite drink after it. Kaveh would stay with cyno or tighnari if the noise gets too loud.

ZHONGLI, very demure, very mindful. Pink blush appears on his face as well giving you a smile and the eyes full of love. He very much appears as his proper self but more loving. His coat on your shoulder and you guys holding each other's hands together swinging around. His clothes are still in their proper state but his hair is not very messy as if he just let it lose. During his rut you and him would leave going to a mountain to enjoy each other's company.

NEUVILLETE, pretty much blushing the entire time he knows this is an improper way as a judge of Fontaine but he can't hold it in, during trials he looks disheveled and breathing heavily as if he's fantasizing over something, he would send you some looks during trial as if he wants to continue on what's going between you. Once a month he would take a week off of work and the reason for it is by far still a mystery.

WRIOSTHELEY, smirking and winking at you, his shirt button has gone down a few levels revealing his abs with sweat sticking on it, his pants are by far crinkle as if it is on the floor for so long, would whisper on your ear leaving you very much flustered and covering your face with your hands, I'm pretty much sure the entire fortress of meriopede knows you guys business together in his office.

CHILDE, pretty much his happy go looking self with you, smirking, whispering in your ear and sending you the look. Pretty disheveled as if he just won a big battle. Would be very cocky and bragging around, his division would leave his office alone in his request for alone time with you. As well some important documents would have some stains of its weird substance on it.

CAPITANO, appears as if nothing happens to everyone in the fatui in his normal self but very much in a good mood the entire time, his coat is with you sleeping in his tent exhausted after what happened. He will continue on his duties as if normal and nothing happens but plus words of appreciation towards his underlings.

DOTTORE, giggling and smirking the entire time like a school girl, his hair is pulled back by his sweat. Would give you words of admiration and affection towards you and praising you for your accomplishments and would be a little nicer than his usual Impatient self. In this state his much nicer with his experiments and his much older segments are pretty much jealous and wanting to spend time with you.

PANTALONE, sips wine in his very much expensive bath robe while your laying on his bed exhausted, going thru paper works after finishing the equivalent of the meme "he's just nutting inside of me and now he's doing paperwork" would spoil you rotten after it, would go shopping with you and buy you many luxurious gifts, dresses and some expensive lingerie plus new accessories for the next time you guys have a meeting.

[justanotherlifeff]

Pecuniary Paragon

Pantalone x reader

Read fic on AO3

("How I met your mother, you ask? Well, son, have you ever heard of the term 'Ponzi Scheme'? Ah ofcourse, you are only 8... Forgive me. A Ponzi Scheme is-"

[Trigger Warning: This fanfic will have some very triggering content, including past child abuse and sexual abuse on a minor. I do not condone such things, and I am writing those from my own experience with these things. I found that writing about trauma has been a good way for me to process things, and while I write these fanfics for them to be enjoyed by readers, I also write them because this is therapeutic for me. I will note down the chapters where this will be discussed and please feel free to skip those parts if it triggers you. As for anyone reading this who had similar experiences, I hope you are safe, and I hope the perpetrator has gotten the necessary punishment.])

Prologue

A cerulean dossier lay sprawled atop an ever-growing mountain of parchment and scrolls, its open pages exposed to the frigid, almost caustic chill lingering perpetually within the opulence of the Regrator's office. Y/N L/N. Age: 25. No formal affiliations. A modest criminal record marred only by petty frauds and minor solicitations—on paper, a trifling offender; insignificant, forgettable, laughable even. Certainly not someone whose name should be etched onto parchment of such importance, nestled between files of Harbinger-level interest upon Pantalone’s meticulously curated desk. And yet, inexplicably, here it was. Gloved fingers, elegant and ruthless in equal measure, drummed a steady rhythm against polished ebony wood—a deceptively innocuous gesture, yet for the trembling assistant standing silent nearby, it was akin to the relentless toll of a funeral bell. The Regrator's expression remained as impeccably serene as always; that porcelain smile affixed to his lips betrayed nothing, yet concealed everything beneath its careful, artful facade. But the air around him betrayed the hidden tempest brewing within—bitterly cold, sharp, and heavy, like the first biting gust heralding a fierce Snezhnayan blizzard. The assistant dared not breathe a word.

This past week had plunged the hallowed halls of the Northland Bank into unprecedented chaos. A singular Ponzi scheme had unraveled, thread by thread, the intricate tapestry of economic influence that Pantalone himself had painstakingly woven deep into the marrow of Snezhnaya's prosperity. The scandal had spread like wildfire, burning unchecked through the veins of commerce, infecting trust and confidence with doubt—and most insidiously, corroding the pristine sheen of the Regrator's hard-earned reputation. And the greatest insult of all? He had personally invested in it. Twenty million mora—vanished. Swindled by an operation whose crude, amateurish methods should never have breached even the remotest outskirts of his notice, much less the sanctity of his own personal accounts. It was humiliating. Worse yet—it was deeply, unforgivably personal.

“Sir, we found her,” the assistant stammered, voice trembling just above a whisper. “She’s been seated in interrogation for the past hour. She... she hasn’t uttered a single word.”

Pantalone’s fingers halted mid-rhythm, hovering ominously above lacquered ebony. For a fleeting moment, silence reigned—cold, oppressive silence, dense as the perpetual snows blanketing the outskirts of Zapolyarny Palace. He did not look up at first. But when he did, the glint behind his spectacles sharpened to something glacial, merciless as the frost-rimed shores of the Pale Lake.

“Not a word?” His voice was silken, each syllable polished and poised, yet beneath their velvet softness lurked a venomous undercurrent. “I was under the distinct impression that the Fatui boasted Teyvat’s most formidable military division—feared in every throne room, whispered of in every shadowed alleyway.” His lips curled upward into a smile that carried equal measures of grace and biting derision. “And yet you fail to extract even a single syllable from a trivial street swindler? How remarkably disappointing.”

His words cleaved through the air like a razor through silk, leaving a heavy, lingering silence in their wake. Beneath that immaculate façade, irritation simmered, far deeper and colder than any of his subordinates could possibly fathom. Truthfully, he had expected—perhaps even secretly hoped—for something more substantial. This woman’s little scheme, intentionally or not, had torn apart foundations so painstakingly constructed, rivaling even the very machination that had catapulted him from anonymity into notoriety. That scheme… just how long ago had it been? Fifteen years, perhaps. Yet the memories remained starkly vivid. Barely twenty years old then, a nameless con artist driven by ambitions that stretched far beyond the reach of his meager station. His plot had been audacious, almost reckless—siphoning billions of mora from the coffers of Snezhnaya’s elite, unraveling the fabric of national prosperity in a catastrophic cascade of ruin. Yet from those smoldering ruins had sprung opportunity. Dottore had found him in the ashes, perceiving the brilliance beneath the ruthless chaos, and extended a hand—neither punitive nor vengeful, but curiously benevolent. Recruitment, not retribution. His words still echoed clearly across the chasm of years:

"Rebuild it," the Doctor had urged, lips curled into a wicked smile. "Stronger. Smarter. Colder."

And so Pantalone had done precisely that. Now, standing once more amidst ruin—only this time, his own ruin—with another schemer seated silently in the starkness of his interrogation chamber, irony clung bitterly to his tongue. History, it appeared, bore a perverse sense of humor. To deceive him—to turn the very scheme that had once forged the foundation of his empire back upon its master—was an act of audacity so brazen, so utterly inconceivable, that he had anticipated someone far more substantial. A cunning rival, perhaps, draped in velvet and sharpened by venom; a mastermind worthy of the ruin wrought. Not the unassuming, nameless swindler whose humble existence was scrawled dismissively across a file.

He—Pantalone—had once lived within shadows, a creature borne of swift ambitions and quicker deceptions. A life woven meticulously from lies, manipulation, and a tireless pursuit of mora—never mind how stained with sin each coin might be. His schemes had been legion, their count lost amid the smoke-filled alleys and whispered backrooms of Snezhnaya’s underbelly. Tea houses that concealed illicit parlors beneath fragile porcelain smiles; gambling dens glittering falsely beneath lantern lights, each roll of the dice another hollow promise; rare narcotics passing discreetly through hands manicured in secrets, drifting among the nobility like whispered sins. If a vice offered profit, he had seized upon it. Mora had never asked for purity; it demanded only cunning.

But that was another lifetime. Now wealth arrived draped in tailored suits, spoken through silver-tongued contracts and portfolios swollen thick with interest, monopolies masked cunningly as national necessities. The filth and grime of his past had long since been washed away, replaced by the pristine sheen of calculated power. Legitimacy was no longer an obstacle—now, it was his personal signature, his brand, cultivated patiently like a rare vintage aging deep within the frost-rimed cellars of statecraft. Gone was the gutter-born hustler, clawing desperately at coins just beyond reach. Now, he was the Regrator—the Merchant Prince of Snezhnaya itself. The economy did not merely tolerate him; it yielded obediently beneath his gloved fingertips. And yet, despite all this… he had been deceived. Swindled, humiliated—like some witless aristocrat with more vanity than sense.

The steel sector had once been his crowning jewel—an intricate masterpiece crafted by patient hands, a subtle yet ambitious venture. A meticulous campaign engineered to wean Snezhnaya from its dependence on foreign arms, transforming it slowly, inexorably, into a self-sustaining titan. Indigenous weapon manufacturing: discreet, efficient, and destined one day to rival even Fontaine’s renowned mechanical ingenuity. Years of strategic investment, whispered manipulation, and precisely applied political leverage had shaped this initiative from mere aspiration into reality. To the world, it was little more than a humble industrial enterprise; to the Fatui, it was the lifeblood of their future war machine. And then—you appeared.

Your enterprise had slipped into the market quietly, elegantly, like the lengthening shadows at twilight. Modest. Unassuming. A ripple so subtle he might never have noticed had it not grown too large to ignore. Your share prices were convincing, your business model meticulously conservative. Even your backers appeared genuinely mundane, their names blending effortlessly into the monotonous murmur of bureaucratic paperwork. You had mirrored the structure of Fatui-backed firms so precisely—borrowing just enough familiarity to conceal deception beneath layers of authenticity. Every seal. Every ledger. Every signature. Flawless. Then, suddenly, the paper trail simply vanished—not in flames or dramatic ruin, but gently, quietly, like snow dissolving silently into frost-hardened earth. Poetic, almost beautiful in its subtlety.

Indeed, you might never have been discovered at all. It was not carelessness, but cruel chance—some twisted cosmic jest of bureaucratic absurdity—that exposed you. Someone on his team, gifted (or perhaps cursed) with an aggravatingly sharp memory, remembered a mediocre detail—a handwriting peculiarity hidden deep within files that should not have existed. Curiosity became suspicion, suspicion became investigation, and soon the entire charade unraveled. They traced the forged signature back to a lowly clerk who had lost a folder weeks prior—too terrified of punishment to report the error. From there, the threads were painstakingly unraveled. Ledger after ledger. Stamp by stamp. Rabbit hole after exhausting rabbit hole, until all roads converged inevitably upon you. And now, even as you sat within his interrogation chamber, expression unreadable, your silence impenetrable, as though none of this truly mattered—as though he did not matter—Pantalone found himself trapped between emotions he rarely indulged: Fury…and fascination.

“Well, she was not completely silent…” the assistant murmured hesitantly, voice faltering as though the words themselves might invoke punishment. “But her answers are far too… unbelievable, my lord.”

Pantalone exhaled slowly, elegantly, the sigh escaping from between parted lips with an understated disappointment rather than outright anger. Of course. Either his subordinates lacked the necessary imagination to discern a cleverly veiled lie, or—far worse—they were being expertly played, led around like children by an entertainer's strings. Judging from appearances, it was almost certainly the latter. With calculated grace, he pushed his chair back, its polished wood scraping softly against pristine marble. Rising fluidly to his feet, each movement precise and purposeful, he adjusted the immaculate cuffs of his coat, fingertips gliding smoothly along silk and velvet.

“Cancel everything for the next two hours,” he commanded quietly, voice carrying a smooth authority underscored by a subtle note of exasperation. “It appears I’ll have to handle this personally.”

His tone remained deceptively composed, yet beneath lay the unmistakable thrum of irritation—cold, measured, a frostbite rather than flame. Time was perhaps the only currency Pantalone could not summon at will, and this enigmatic woman had already extracted from him far more than mere mora. Still… if the complexity of her plot matched even a fraction of his suspicions—if she had truly danced perilously close to his crown jewel and emerged unscathed—then perhaps, indeed, his time would be wisely spent. Drawing in one last measured breath—half irritation, half intrigued curiosity—he stepped decisively toward the interrogation wing. The quiet precision of his footfalls echoed silently, each step whispering a promise far more chilling and dangerous than raised voices or open threats ever could.

Snezhnayan prisons possessed a reputation—and it was far from enviable. Dreary, decrepit, suffused with a cold that clung stubbornly to the marrow rather than merely chilling the skin. The stench of mildew and stale, stagnant air permeated every surface, sinking deeply into stone and steel alike—a corruption impossible to cleanse or conceal. Pantalone had visited these facilities before; briefly, reluctantly, and always with distaste. They were an unfortunate necessity within the grand machinery of empire, but hardly a component he cared to indulge. Fortunately, today’s excursion did not demand his descent into the most wretched depths. He would not be forced to pass rust-riddled iron bars nor meet the hollow, haunted gazes of those desperate souls who had nothing left to lose. Instead, his destination was the interrogation wing—a more dignified sector, elevated both literally and figuratively above the true squalor below. Yet even here, “cleaner” was a generously relative term.

He cast his gaze downward in subtle disdain, eyeing the immaculate shoes adorning his feet—hand-stitched Fontaine leather, custom-made to perfectly match the midnight hues of his tailored coat. Shoes decidedly unsuited for these grim corridors. In truth, this entire prison wing was beneath him—beneath his rank, beneath his wealth, beneath even the soles of those very shoes. Still, appearances mattered. The upper echelons of the facility had at least made an attempt at respectability. High-ranking officers and visiting dignitaries frequented these corridors often enough to justify the illusion of civility: a superficial coat of fresh paint here, reinforced lighting fixtures there. Minor touches designed only to mask the underlying rot, never to remove it. After all, who truly cared about society's lowest, forgotten remnants? They were not meant to be comfortable. They were not meant to be remembered. Yet here you sat—ensconced within these forsaken walls, forcing the Fatui’s esteemed Regrator himself to descend, however slightly, toward your humble station. Pantalone allowed himself a faint smile. The irony, bitter though it might be, was becoming increasingly amusing.

He was no stranger to the awkward, fumbling salutes of officers unprepared for a Harbinger’s presence—especially in a place as inconsequential as this. The startled widening of their eyes, the sudden stiffening of posture, that frantic desperation to appear useful—it was all too predictable. And increasingly irritating. Certainly, Pantalone appreciated respect. Who in his position would not? But respect, like fashion, required a certain finesse—an inherent sense of taste and decorum. Deference was meant to be silent, seamless, elegant; not barked out clumsily, like a frightened schoolboy’s pledge of allegiance. Why these minor functionaries expected acknowledgment from him at all was beyond his comprehension. These miserable creatures, these small, interchangeable cogs—if they possessed any real worth, they would hardly find themselves consigned to prison duty. Still, he smiled—cold, composed, meticulously crafted, though it never reached his eyes. A perfected mask, giving nothing away and offering even less.

Upon reaching the designated door, he paused briefly before pressing it open, only to be met by an unpleasantly sticky resistance against his glove. His eyes narrowed subtly, a flicker of displeasure briefly disturbing his otherwise flawlessly placid countenance. Blood. Dried, yet recent enough to offend. How charming. He immediately made a mental note—Fontaine leather demanded specialized solvents—to send the gloves for thorough cleaning, and another note still: to discover precisely which incompetent fool had neglected something as simple as sanitizing a doorknob prior to a Harbinger’s arrival. Yet another reason to detest places such as this.

As the door clicked softly shut behind him, Pantalone’s gaze finally settled upon you. Utterly ordinary. You sat there, wrists shackled securely to the metal desk, posture slouched—not in defiance, but in sheer exhaustion. Your nose had clearly been broken, a crude souvenir bestowed by less sophisticated hands among Fatui interrogators, dried blood still crusting around your nostrils, half-heartedly wiped but never truly cleaned. Your hair hung tangled, wild strands matted together with sweat and blood, a stark contrast to the meticulous order he cultivated around himself. Your expression carried a strange blend of boredom, pain, and faint irritation—as though you were enduring a tedious appointment rather than facing charges of economic treason against the Tsaritsa’s own empire. Then, slowly, you lifted your eyes to meet his, and from your cracked lips came a peculiar sound—a fractured half-laugh, somewhere between bitter amusement and a strangled sob. Absurdity clung to the air like the lingering smoke of extinguished candles. Pantalone blinked once, deliberately. There was no elegance here, no mystique or practiced aura of menace—just an ordinary citizen, bruised by state violence, chained and bloodied, yet possessing the tired audacity to appear entirely unimpressed. And perhaps… that was precisely the point.

The broken nose had evidently landed as it would on any common soul dragged from the streets. You hadn’t been trained to withstand pain, hadn't been hardened for interrogation—yet here you sat, having single-handedly toppled the economic foundations of an entire nation with little more than an easy smile and deftly forged signatures. He exhaled slowly through his nose, almost amused by the stark simplicity of it. Surrounded as he was by Harbingers, agents sculpted by steel, visions, and ruthless discipline, he'd nearly forgotten how ordinary people wore their suffering. Still, he refrained from judgment. After all, his own strength was not forged through battle or brutality—it had been shaped from numbers, contracts, and the quiet, ruthless manipulation of power. He'd never needed fists or violence when words alone could inflict wounds far deeper and more enduring. To mock you now would be hypocrisy. Instead, he moved forward silently, deliberately, approaching this encounter as though it were merely another business negotiation rather than a long-overdue reckoning.

“Can’t believe the Regrator himself came to see me.” Your voice was rough, distorted slightly by swelling, lending your words a faintly comical, nasal quality—but the biting sarcasm remained unmistakable. “Now that’s an achievement and a half.”

Pantalone didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he regarded you quietly, his expression unreadable behind thin-rimmed glasses, eyes glinting faintly in the harsh interrogation lights. His hands, still encased in those finely tailored gloves stained with another’s dried blood, rested casually upon the back of the empty chair opposite you.

“If imprisonment in a state cell constitutes an achievement,” he remarked softly, voice smooth and dangerously polite, “then yes, indeed—you've accomplished a great deal.”

His words hung in the air, deceptively gentle yet weighted with icy menace. He took his time pulling out the chair and settling gracefully into it, each movement precise, calculated, as deliberate as the stroke of a pen signing a contract. He didn't lean forward; he didn't have to.

“Now,” he continued, voice remaining calm, velvet-edged yet steely beneath, “I hear you’ve been feeding my subordinates and interrogators… lies.” He smiled slowly then—a thin, deliberate curve of his lips devoid of warmth, chilling the room further with its subtle cruelty. “If you possess even a shred of self-preservation, I suggest you speak the truth from this point onward. Waste my time again, and your death will not only be inevitable—it will be excruciatingly slow.”

He paused, allowing the threat to settle like frost upon your skin. “Believe me. I have my ways.”

That frozen smile remained, a polished veneer thinly disguising the violence simmering beneath. You blinked at him, strangely unfazed. Then, slowly, you shrugged your shoulders—a movement hindered by the cuffs yet utterly defiant in its casual indifference.

“I didn’t lie about a thing,” you rasped. Your voice cracked slightly at the end—not out of fear, but simply from damage inflicted by rough handling earlier. Yet the audacity remained undimmed, luminous and compelling in its quiet confidence.

“But sure,” you added, leaning back in your chair as far as restraints allowed, the chains clinking softly in the oppressive silence. “Go on. Ask your questions.”

It wasn’t defiance, exactly; it was quieter, deeper. More dangerous. A calmness he had not anticipated—and now, whether you knew it or not, you commanded the Regrator’s full, undivided attention.

His subordinates had not been entirely misguided. The tales you spun were, by any rational measure, absurd. Implausible. A narrative so tenuously woven that it bordered on the fantastical. How had you managed such a feat? How had a solitary figure orchestrated such an elaborate scheme right under the vigilant gaze of the Fatui—under his watchful eye? He had inquired, of course, in his typically frosty, methodical manner.

“Who are your connections?” he had pressed, expecting to unravel a network of co-conspirators.

Yet, your response was infuriatingly simplistic, "I don’t have any. Not ones who knew who they were working with, anyway.” That assertion alone ought to have sounded alarms. Individuals like you did not typically operate solo, not on such a grand scale, not with such surgical precision.

But as he meticulously pieced together the breadcrumb trail leading to your capture, the situation began to coalesce into a grimly coherent picture. His team had not apprehended you through sheer analytical prowess. They had not meticulously traced your financial transactions nor decrypted your coded communications. Rather, they had blundered into your shadow, propelled by a series of fortuitous mishaps. It had started with a thief—a desperate, petty soul who had pilfered a stack of misplaced documents from the wrong desk at the most inopportune moment. An eagle-eyed analyst under Pantalone’s employ had remembered a discrepancy in an old ledger, recognized the handwriting, and posed the crucial question. The clerk in question was interrogated, and he revealed the information on the stolen documents, and a thief was found guilty of the crime by investigating the location. Under duress, the thief pointed them toward an underground guild known for fencing such stolen items. From this seedy nexus, another name surfaced—a middleman who had been compensated, to submit requests on behalf of an anonymous client. This intermediary knew nothing substantial, save for the punctuality of his payments and the explicit nature of his instructions.

The connection to you was made only because this middleman had once been observed conversing with you in a dimly lit tavern. A loquacious barkeep, emboldened by drink, had offhandedly mentioned your name. That was the fragile filament that led to your downfall, as your name was, unfortunately, in the fatui's criminal records for petty crimes. It wasn’t due to incompetence or negligence on your part. Merely… ill fortune. This realization gnawed at Pantalone. You were no novice flailing in the dark, hoping to strike a mark. You were methodical, calculated, designed to be a phantom. Your strategies were so thoroughly insulated, so exquisitely compartmentalized, that even now, as you sat directly before him, he found himself unable to fully discern the true extent of the monstrosity lurking behind your unassuming facade. Pantalone’s gaze lingered on you a fraction longer—careful, assessing, dissecting every detail of your battered visage and your unsettlingly calm demeanor. The dismissiveness in your voice, the ease with which you bore your injuries, and that intolerable, casual insolence—it grated sharply against the meticulously ordered structure of his world.

"If you truly had no connections," he began softly, fingers steepling with deliberate precision, "then explain to me: how exactly did you convince nearly every socialite in Snezhnaya to pour mora into this farce?"

Your lips curled upward into a slow smile, tinted by blood and an unmistakable pride. "I did three things." Leaning forward just slightly, you allowed the interrogation lamp’s shadowy glow to carve out the hollows of your bruised cheekbone. "First, I took a part-time job at a laundromat frequented by nobility. Silks, furs, imported velvets—names you’d recognize instantly, if I said them aloud."

"Second, I picked up a few shifts at a jewelry boutique in the business quarter. Exclusive, discreet. The sort of establishment patronized by wives while their husbands squandered mora over drinks and state contracts."

"And then… I borrowed." A spark ignited in your gaze—mischievous, bordering on dangerous. "I borrowed gowns. I borrowed jewels. And I paid a prostitute to infiltrate their extravagant little gatherings—some held within noble estates, others nestled comfortably in the very outer wings of Zapolyarny Palace itself."

You paused briefly—not from hesitation, but for effect. The Regrator’s eyes narrowed fractionally, signaling his silent acknowledgment.

"I taught her the language of investments," you continued, voice calm, steady, meticulously chosen words dripping like honeyed poison. "Just enough to make her convincing. And as for the rest?" You chuckled dryly, wincing slightly from the ache in your broken nose. "A courtesan requires no instruction on stroking a man’s ego. Such talents come naturally."

Pantalone remained silent, expression carefully neutral—yet you could sense the subtle shift in his bearing, the almost imperceptible stillness in his hands. You were intriguing him.

"I wrote her notes," you went on, pressing your advantage calmly. "Detailed. Believable. Multiple investment opportunities—some genuine, others exaggerated. And of course, hidden neatly among them was mine. Lucrative, familiar… boring enough to feel utterly safe."

"And the invitations?" Pantalone inquired quietly now, voice measured, tone deceptively gentle.

Your smile widened—sharp, predatory. "I paid servants in noble households to slip a mild concoction into their master’s meals. Nothing deadly—merely potent enough to confine them briefly to bed. A different estate each time, of course."

"And then?"

"And then," you concluded smoothly, "I had the servants retrieve the discarded invitations. Nobles prize exclusivity—but once attendance becomes impossible, their precious invitations become meaningless. Mere trash."

You leaned back, the cuffs rattling softly in the tense silence, savoring the pause before delivering your final words:

"Isn’t it amusing, Lord Harbinger, what can be accomplished with merely a few hundred mora?"

Silence stretched tautly between you—sharp, resonant, suspended like the last note of a stringed instrument played softly in an empty hall.

"And why the steel industry?" Pantalone asked finally, the tone subtly shifting from clinical inquiry toward genuine curiosity. It wasn’t a trap or a challenge. It was an authentic question—an admission that you had achieved something remarkable enough to demand explanation.

You tilted your head thoughtfully, then shrugged gently, as though the answer should’ve been glaringly obvious.

"One must read the Articles of Association for publicly registered Snezhnayan businesses," you began evenly. Despite your battered visage, your voice remained steady, precise, elegantly controlled. "Among the clauses regarding shareholder rights, there lies a small, subtle detail—easily missed."

Your smile was faint, but your gaze now sharpened—a glint of cold calculation dancing within your eyes.

"Businesses receiving Fatui investment gain preferential consideration for government contracts—this much is common knowledge. But hidden deeper, in the dense, tedious fine print, is a small auxiliary clause: Fatui-backed enterprises are subject to internal audits, not external."

You paused deliberately, allowing that fact to settle into the quiet tension between you. Pantalone remained silent, the glint behind his spectacles sharpening perceptibly.

"And while, on paper, these internal audits are exhaustive," you continued smoothly, your bruised lips curled into a confident half-smile, "in reality, enforcement is... lax, reserved only for unusual spikes in profit or growth."

Another pause, measured and deliberate.

"I did my research. Public records are easily accessible at any respectable Snezhnayan archive. A few afternoons spent buried in documents was all it took. I isolated sectors receiving Fatui backing—those least scrutinized, most structurally vulnerable."

You inclined your head slightly, eyes bright with restrained triumph. "Steel… was perfect."

"Modest. Unassuming. Necessary enough to warrant state subsidies, yet never glamorous enough to draw undue attention. With weapon production steadily rising, the steel sector practically begged for new ventures eager to absorb state-backed funding."

Your voice dropped subtly, leaning forward just enough to draw him into your whispered revelation. "Besides—who would suspect a scam hidden right inside your own house?"

The ensuing silence stretched tautly, heavy and suffocating—like deep snow blanketing fields already laden with secrets.

Pantalone remained perfectly still, not out of shock or disbelief, but careful contemplation. He had meticulously built a system designed to serve him unquestioningly, to follow his every silent command. And yet, here you sat—an intruder who had casually walked in wearing borrowed finery, clutching falsified signatures, and reflecting his own designs back at him. Not a flaw in the system. A mirror. Slowly, for the first time since entering the room, his carefully maintained smile faded into quiet, thoughtful neutrality.

"Hmm." His fingertips tapped softly against the table—methodical, rhythmic, like a meticulously wound clock ticking toward inevitability. His gaze settled fully upon you, colder now, edged like honed steel.

"And how," he finally asked, voice measured, softly dangerous, "did you manage to list your fabricated business in official records? Produce audits so pristine they passed even my meticulous scrutiny?"

No anger colored his tone—only a profound, clinical curiosity, precisely sharpened like a surgeon’s scalpel. "I never invest in anything short of flawless authenticity," he added coolly, almost quietly. "So explain precisely—how did you fabricate something that even I believed was real?"

You answered him with a crooked, blood-tinged grin, eyes glittering in bruised defiance.

"Simple," you said softly, a single word mocking the entirety of the empire he’d built. "I hired a man with a Dendro Vision—someone who specialized in perception manipulation, capable of creating finely controlled hallucinations."

You delivered this information casually, plainly—like speaking about mundane weather rather than admitting high treason.

"I found him operating within the narcotic underworld. Not difficult, if you know which suppliers to trail. Vision holders might be rare, but desperation makes them accessible. He claimed his illusions were refined enough to fool even trained minds, impossible to distinguish from reality."

"And you trusted such a boast?" Pantalone queried evenly, eyebrow subtly arching.

Your smile widened faintly—pride rather than arrogance, quiet certainty rather than bravado.

"I tested him personally," you admitted without hesitation. "I paid him to craft a comprehensive illusion—a fully operational facility, complete with machinery, laborers, documentation. Heat, sound, even scent. Everything the senses expected from an active industrial site."

You leaned forward, voice lowered conspiratorially, gaze unwaveringly locked onto his. "Your auditors arrived, walked through, saw everything, documented everything, and departed satisfied. And yet…" your words slowed, savoring each syllable, "in reality, there was nothing."

Silence now fell differently—denser, charged, the strained calm between drawn blades awaiting the inevitable first strike. Pantalone didn't blink. Of course, he knew about Dendro-based narcotics; he himself had invested heavily in controlling the shadowed markets that whispered of such rare delights. But to wield such a substance not as indulgent vice, but as a precise corporate weapon? This was boldness bordering on madness. Audacious. Unprecedented. And unsettlingly effective.

"As for the public records," you continued casually, as if discussing nothing more significant than afternoon tea, "I simply forged the signature of one of your own office clerks."

Pantalone’s eyes narrowed fractionally, a barely perceptible movement—but enough to convey his sharpened focus. Yet he offered no interruption, only listened, patient as a serpent awaiting the perfect moment to strike.

"I had someone—several someones, in fact—steal documents directly from his desk. Letters, memos, old requisition forms. Enough handwriting samples to mimic his style with meticulous accuracy." You waved a cuffed hand lazily, chains clinking faintly at your wrists, the motion casual, indifferent. "But of course, you already knew this. That minor slip—that single misplaced folder—is what unraveled the entire illusion."

You smiled again—not in shame, not even in guilt, but with quiet, weary irony. "It wasn’t even my thief who ruined everything. It was your own subordinate’s error. He misplaced the paperwork, grew frightened, and kept silent. And from there, the dominoes fell, one by painstaking one."

Your gaze flickered toward him, measuring his reaction. "Unfortunate." You savored the word carefully, allowing it to linger, heavy with implication.

"But the actual execution?" you continued, voice smoothly calm. "That was simplicity itself. I delivered those forged documents exactly as your clerk would have. Straight to your assistant’s personal residence, slipped seamlessly among the day’s routine paperwork."

You gestured lightly toward some unseen figure—a faceless pawn within Pantalone’s vast, sprawling bureaucracy. "They saw nothing amiss. Signed off without question. Stamped, registered, neatly filed away as entirely legitimate."

You leaned forward just slightly, your bloodied smile persisting stubbornly, quietly victorious. "That," you whispered softly, "was all it took."

For a moment, silence filled the room, broken only by the faint, persistent hum of the overhead lamp and the subtle creak of expensive leather as Pantalone reclined, absorbing the weight of your revelation. You hadn’t breached the fortress of Snezhnaya’s most powerful financial institution with force, nor armies, nor even a Vision. You’d simply used a stolen pen and precisely the right envelope.

"And how," Pantalone finally asked, voice once more dangerously calm, fingertips steepled in careful contemplation, "did those meticulously filed documents vanish overnight… precisely after you disappeared with the mora?"

His tone had cooled further—not in anger, but something infinitely more dangerous. Absolute, razor-sharp focus.

You tilted your head slightly, the faintest of smirks playing at the corner of your cracked, blood-stained lips. "Ah. That part was easy." Your words fell plainly, devoid of guilt or bravado—merely clear-eyed honesty. "I sent a letter."

You paused deliberately, letting the weight of that confession settle into the charged silence. "An anonymous letter. Polite. Nicely worded. More a warning than a threat, really."

Shifting subtly in your seat, you winced slightly as the cuffs bit against your skin, the chains pulling taut. "I addressed it to the clerk whose signature I forged. I wrote: ‘It’s your name on those documents. Next week, I intend to scam billions of mora from very powerful individuals. If those files remain… well, I imagine your employer won’t be pleased.'"

Your gaze locked firmly with his, your smile unmoving, defiant in its calm certainty. "Fear handled the rest."

Another beat of silence, heavier now, more dangerous.

"Burning evidence," you added softly, conversationally, "is practically a reflex in a place like yours. Those near the bottom don’t wait for orders. They panic. They scramble to clean the mess, hoping desperately that no one important will ever notice."

Your lips twisted faintly upward. "And it almost worked."

You leaned back, savoring the word that hung bitterly between you both. Almost. Pantalone remained motionless. Unblinking. Yet beneath that carefully sculpted mask of composure, something shifted, a quiet realization unfurling like smoke: You had manipulated more than just his systems. More than just his funding streams or bureaucratic machinery. You had manipulated his people. He had reviewed your dossier a dozen times before ever setting foot into this bleak interrogation chamber. Every detail had been meticulously examined—every seemingly trivial line, every minor offense, every incongruity that hinted at brilliance hidden beneath years of petty crimes and forgettable misdemeanors. Small scams. Street cons. Solicitation charges. Your record painted the picture of a wasted intellect, scattered across desperate gambits and fleeting, hollow victories. But this? This was no act of desperation—it was a carefully executed design. And that disturbed him more profoundly than he wished to admit. Why now? Why wait until this precise moment?

When he finally spoke, his voice was measured, quiet—dangerously soft. "And why," he asked, gaze piercing through your veneer of calm, "did you choose this moment, of all times, to make your move?"

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you offered him a slow, flat smile—joyless, disconnected. One that never reached your eyes. A smile he recognized intimately, having worn it himself countless times across different rooms, in different lifetimes.

"It’s personal business," you replied quietly, tone firm, closed like an iron lock rusted shut by years of silence. "Nothing important."

A casual shrug followed, careless but deliberate. "I simply didn’t feel like doing it until now."

That was all. No elaborate justification. No tragic backstory or ambitious manifesto. Merely… a choice. And somehow, the sheer simplicity of it interested him more deeply than anything else you’d revealed thus far. Pantalone leaned back fractionally in his chair, a flicker of realization threading through his thoughts—thin, sharp, like silk through a needle. He had cleared two precious hours from his schedule for this interrogation. He despised interruptions. Loathed inefficiency. Yet this was neither wasted time nor meaningless distraction. You were something else entirely. Not a waste. Far from it. You were rare. Cold. Pragmatic. Flexible. Dangerous. And perhaps, above all else… Profitable.

"I have two options for you," he stated, words slicing through the stagnant air with surgical precision—quiet, polished, and utterly final.

Pantalone folded his hands neatly atop the table, thin-rimmed lenses reflecting the dim glow of the interrogation lamp. "Now that I have access to the mora you stole," he paused briefly, his polite smile sharpening just a fraction colder, "—though I must commend your foresight. Concealing your funds in an overseas Fontaine account rather than entrusting them to the Northland Bank… Clever, but ofcourse, that much is obvious to any decent scammer."

He inclined his head slightly, the gesture slow, deceptively thoughtful. "An admirable precaution. Particularly given your ignorance of just how deeply the Fatui’s influence penetrates Fontaine’s financial sectors."

Another pause. A quiet breath—weighted deliberately.

"But cleverness alone was not enough."

He allowed that stark truth to linger, an icy echo between you, before continuing calmly, relentlessly.

"And thus, the first option," he went on, tone unwavering, deadly calm. "Life imprisonment. I sign the decree, leave this room, and never think of you again. You rot quietly within these walls—forgotten, nameless. Merely another lost soul buried deep within the frozen machinery of Snezhnaya’s justice. A file left to gather dust."

His smile was too gentle to be genuine, too composed to be compassionate.

"Just like every other worthless fool this nation discards."

He leaned back incrementally, eyes never leaving yours, allowing the silence to stretch tautly between you—watching intently for the slightest flinch, the faintest crack in your calm, any sign that the reality of his words had cut deeper than the pain already etched upon your face. But he wasn’t finished. Not yet. You would have gotten away with laundering the mora, too—had your opponent been anyone but him. Pantalone was no fool. He had studied your movements the way one might observe a chessboard—methodically, patiently, examining each subtle maneuver until the grand strategy revealed itself. The moment your name had surfaced, he had asked himself the simplest, most dangerous question: If it had been me, where would I hide the mora?

The answer had come instantly, obvious in its poetic irony—Fontaine, the Nation of Justice. With its countless banks, obsessive regulations, and pristine, immaculate façades masking something much simpler beneath: greed. Fontaine, like any nation, was merely a gilded vault—a hundred hidden keys tucked behind a polished veneer of order. Only a select handful of banks could manage such substantial transactions quietly, discreetly enough to avoid undue scrutiny, securely enough to prevent prying eyes from noticing. It had taken him little time. Merely a touch of classic Fatui persuasion—quiet conversations held in elegant drawing rooms, porcelain shattered on polished floors, courteous smiles splattered with blood upon costly imported rugs.

Of course, the bank owners cracked. They always did. And once they did, they willingly surrendered everything: account numbers, transaction trails, and undeniable proof. Fascinating, truly. Your choices had aligned so precisely with his own instincts that he couldn’t help but feel a grudging admiration. The logic, discretion, and elegance of your actions were remarkable. You had moved like a phantom through corridors he himself had once navigated with effortless mastery. It was a testament to the brilliance of your mind—a mirror held up to his own past cunning. A pity, he thought distantly, that such intellect had remained hidden so long.

"That," Pantalone continued, voice smooth, silken as ever, "or—" He leaned forward slightly, polite smile unwavering, "you may choose to work for me. As my personal assistant."

He phrased it as an offer, but both of you understood it was not—it was a command, wrapped delicately in decorative silk.

"Considering your intellect, your... initiative," he remarked softly, voice faintly amused, almost appreciative, "there is significant potential here. Brilliance like yours deserves refinement—sharpened, honed, shaped into something far more... useful."

A pause, deliberate and cruel.

"Unpaid, naturally," he added pleasantly, his cold smile unflinching. "You did, after all, abscond with quite a substantial sum from my coffers. Actions, as we know, always have consequences. Forgiveness, my dear, is never free."

He rose slowly, fluidly, smoothing invisible creases from his impeccable coat, each movement calculated, meticulous. "You will be provided Fatui-sanctioned accommodations. Under strict surveillance, naturally—considering your newfound notoriety."

He turned back to you, his gaze unreadable now, veiled behind the mask of a composed Harbinger, every emotion replaced with ruthless calculation. "And as for your record—the fraud, the scams, the petty misdemeanors—I shall erase them entirely."

He placed a gloved hand upon the door handle, pausing briefly before stepping into the corridor. His voice dropped to a soft murmur, carrying clearly through the silence.

"Your freedom, your past, your very future—all wiped clean, traded simply in exchange for unwavering loyalty."

A beat passed, tense and suffocating.

"Your choice."

Then that same cold, elegant smile returned, precise as a blade drawn from its sheath.

"As always, I would advise you to choose wisely."

You simply stared at him for a heartbeat, then snorted softly, wincing sharply from the pain as a quiet, broken laugh slipped through your bruised lips.

"I see my elevator pitch worked perfectly," you remarked dryly, your tone so confident, so casually self-assured, it was as though you had planned this outcome from the very start. "I'm almost surprised."

Pantalone silently considered the strange creature before him, a fleeting curiosity threading through his otherwise perfectly ordered thoughts. Perhaps there truly was something wrong with you—a crack somewhere in the porcelain of your sanity. Then again, he reflected coolly, intellect seldom came without its fair share of madness.

[constellationguy]

Lies the Genshin Men say

*little explicit here and there*

Explicit sections: Childe, Dottore-ish, Kaeya, Baizhu

The Harbingers

Pierro: He says he prefers to see you in his colors, mainly blues and black. Truthfully he adores you in red. He can’t keep his hands off you when you wear red. He also buys you anything that’s red, dresses, shoes, lipstick, flowers, all because the color reminds him of you. For events he prefers you to wear jewelry with darling bright sapphires but your jewelry case is filled with too many rubies to count.

Il Capitano: He says he prefers his hair straight and unrestrained. The truth is he will fall asleep if you play with or style his long back hair. Capitano feels the most loved when you are braiding his hair or giving him a scalp massage. When he misses you he braids his hair but he starts at the nape of his neck because his big fingers can’t braid from the top of his head like you do.

Pantalone: He claims he doesn’t care what perfume you wear. This statement is partly true. During galas and social functions he tells you to wear sents that are known to be pricey but not oppressive, expensive and understated he says. However at home he loves your natural sent, with out shame he will set you on his lap and tuck his face into your neck and take a deep breath, it seems like a sigh but he really is smelling you.

Childe: He tells you he loves everything about you equally, but it’s clear that he adores your boobs the most. Ajax loves to hug you from behind and squeeze or caress your chest while hugging you and will whine and beg to let him if you deny him. He loves to burry his head in your chest after a long day. When you don’t wear a bra you can persuade him to do pretty much anything.

Scaramouche: He tells you that he doesn’t care if you learn Japanese or not. In reality his knees will buckle if you call him “anata”, after you two got married. When you speak with him in Japanese he is so much more animated and emotional. His heart swells with pride when you two speak Japanese in domestic settings. Sing to him in Japanese and he will cry and or fall asleep.

Dottore: He claims to be dominant, which he is, most of the time. He will boss anyone around and make them conform to his will, but he will burn the world for you if you wanted. You tell him to jump and he will ask how high. He will also be extra pliant if you tug on his hair a bit.

Mondstadt

Albedo: He tells you he doesn’t mind not having a “domestic” relationship. In truth he loves seeing you play with Klee. He loves when you cook for him. He loves coming home to you, if he could freeze time to stay in those homey moments he would.

Diluc: He tells everyone that he doesn’t play any instraments. However at home he will play the sweetest melodies for you on the piano. His playing is for your ears only. The only other people he will play for is your future children.

Kaeya: He promises you that he will never hurt you. However, he will bite, scratch, and suck on your skin all day every day if you let him. He adores leaving possessive marks on you as well as giving you painful pleasure, the best kind of pleasure in his book.

Venti: He claims to be chill and not possessive at all. But he will stare and scowl at people being flirty with you. He will place his hands possessively on your waist when anyone gets too close to you. He would keep you locked up at home if he could, he just could never share you with anyone.

Liyue

Baizhu: Baizhu claims to dislike your bossiness, but in fact in almost any scenario it kinda turns him on. He loves when you use him for your own pleasure. He loves when you tell him what to do to make you happy or to get you off.

Xiao: He tells you that he doesn’t want anymore people in his life. However, he truly wants a few kids of his own running about, helping him make breakfast for you every morning. The thing he wants most is a family with you.

Zhongli: Not exactly a lie but Zhongli doesn’t like you eating non home cooked food. Any food that isn’t made by someone he trusts, he won’t let you eat. However whenever you’re feeling down or kind of out of it he will order food and bring it home to make you smile.

Inazuma

Goro: He tells everyone who asks that he hates his ears and tail touched, everyone is too rough with them. On the other hand, you’re so gentile with him, when you play with his hair that he can’t help but enjoy when you gently pet his ears.

Kazuha: He will tell you that the world is inspiration. He tells you his poems stem from the sights he sees and emotions he feels as he travels. But in truth Kazuha has not written one poem without you on his mind, you have been his muse and inspiration since you met.

Ayato: He says he doesn’t mind what you wear. But he can’t help but feel happy when you wear the expensive silk sets he bought you. Silk just fits you for some reason. To him silk complements your soft skin perfectly, the smooth reflective fabric just radiants and amplifies your beauty.

Heizo: Whenever he is tired he will go on and on about how he “isn’t sleepy” or how he’s “just gonna rest his eyes.” This man is stubborn when it comes to going to bed. He just wants to spend more time with you. You might have to make him tea and scratch his back while he lays on you to get him to fall asleep without a fuss.

Thoma: He claims to be neither here or there on who cooks meals. In actuality in his brain he cries and begs for your cooking. It could be any cuisine and he will be happy. He just loves your cooking and your adoration especially after a long day of taking care of others.

Itto: Itto tells anyone and everyone that he’s married to you. He just loves you so much and fantasizes about your wedding to much sometimes he forgets you’re not actually married yet.

Sumeru

Alhaitham: He tells you that you can sleep by yourself. In reality you and him both know you can’t sleep without each other. If you’re angry with him and you sleep on the couch you two will end up making up in the night when he comes to pick you up and take you back to your shared bed.

Cyno: He claims to not get jealous often but truthfully he craves your attention and gets jealous when he doesn’t get it. He knows how his friends don’t favor his humor so he gets a little insecure when you laugh at their jokes sometimes. Just know he will be clingy behind closed doors to make up for being jealous of his own friends.

Kaveh: Everyday he tells you that he won’t overwork himself, he will take breaks today. He doesn’t, no matter how determined he is he will not take a break until you make him. On days when he’s stuck in his head you have to visit him while he’s at work or at home so he can come back down to earth here and there.

Tighnari: He will complain anyone who will listen about how he hates going into Sumeru city for one thing or another. However he will be giddy when he goes onto Sumeru City to visit you. While he doesn’t like the city, it isn’t so bad when you’re with him.

Fontaine

Lyney: He claims to love all the ways you touch him. However he does have a favorite, he loves when you scratch and massage his back. When you work through his back with your skilled hands he is a happy groaning mess. After a massage he will be like a napping pile of jello. Cuddles with a now loose muscled Lyney are so heart warming.

Neuvillette: He hates the taste of coffee, that’s a plain fact. However, he can’t help but enjoy the taste of coffee if it’s from your lips. The quick good morning kiss you give him as you sip on your coffee makes his head dizzy instead of disgusted like he normally is at the taste of coffee.

Wriothesley: He claims he doesn’t mind you going out alone or without him. Truthfully you are never actually without his surveillance. He has a tracker on your phone and he sends one of his coworkers to make sure you are always safe.

[driftawayomnichord]

Genshin characters react to you sleeping on the floor - Part 2

Warning: not proof read; this is pure fluff and crack; (featuring Pantalone; Alhaitham; +Bonus: Jing Yuan)

*THUD*

Pantalone

Dealing with idiotic aristocracy is incredibly exhausting, sadly for Pantalone, that is a part of his everyday routine. Every day he goes into his office and has to stand their behaviour. So his favourite thing do to after a long day of work is to go back home and complain and gossip about said aristocrats. Usually be prefers to do that in bed, in your dark cozy room.

Today was no different, the moment he got home he rushed to find you and let all the built up frustration go. And so he did, at dinner, while getting ready for bed, in bed…he was particularly annoyed today it seems.

And after some time the pair naturally drifted off to sleep. That was until two hours later Pantalone woke up to get some water and after he had his drink he turned around with the intention to hug you.

Where are you.

He stood up and called for you - nothing. Went to check the bathroom - nothing. Living room - nothing. Dining room - nothing. The study - nothing. He went through every single room in that house to find absolutely nothing. Asked every servant if they have seen you - nothing.

He was left standing there, just completely puzzled as to what happened to you. And the first idea that came to his mind is one of his biggest fears. Maybe you never really loved him, were only using him for money and you were cheating on him.

While he wanted to avoid thinking about that possibility it just couldn’t escape his mind. He ordered some of the guards to go look for you around the city and decided to head to his bedroom.

Walking in he went towards the window, closer to your side of the bed when he suddenly hit his foot on-…something.

“Ouch- damn it.” Your voice rang.

He looked down and saw you…on the floor…glaring at him.

“Why did you hit me? What’s wrong with you?” You asked him annoyed. “I was sleeping.”

“You were…here.”

“It’s the middle of the night, of course I’m here, sleeping. Or at least was…”

“Why are you on the floor…” he questioned.

“I’m what-…why am I on the floor?”

He simply chuckled, picked you up, plopping you on your bed and laying down next to you. He shouldn’t have worried.

(( _ _ ))..zzzZZ

Alhaitham

Both of you were preparing to go to bed, brushing your teeth, hair, putting on some moisturiser (that you definitely don’t force Alhaitham to do). You were talking about your plans for tomorrow, or more like you complaining that you don’t want to bother tomorrow.

“After you are done with your presentation we will head out on a walk.” He suggested and headed out of the bathroom into the bedroom to finally relax his body, expecting you to follow him. But you didn’t?

“Are you coming?” He shouted.

You poked your head from the hallway into the bedroom and looked at him nervously. “I forgot about the presentation, you go ahead and sleep and I will join you later.” You told him and ran to the living room to prepare your presentation.

The next morning Alhaitham woke up and noticed that you never really went to bed. So he headed out into the living room to see if you fell asleep there but you weren’t on the couch. He could see documents and papers stacked on the table and the couch but you weren’t there.

He looked for you in the rest of the rooms and still nothing. So he had no other choice but to ask his roommate if h e had seen you.

“Kaveh, have you seen [Name] today or last night?” Alhaitham shouted through the door.

Kaveh opened it and looked at the scribe a little confused.

“Yeah, last night around 4 in the morning. They were in the living room writing something. Why?”

“Well, they are nowhere to be seen.”

“What- let me check.” Said Kaveh, not believing that you would just disappear.

He walked into the living room scanning it when he heard Alhaitham speak up from behind him.

“Do you really believe that I would just miss them?”

That’s when Kaveh’s eyes focused on something - you…on the floor under the table.

“Yes, I believe.” Kaveh replied, pointing at your direction.

Alhaitham walked up to you and called out for you, but you didn’t bulge. So he sighted and picked you up, carrying you into your shared room and plopping you in bed.

(( _ _ ))..zzzZZ

Bonus: Jing Yuan

After working the whole day, not having time to even lift his head up, Jing Yuan loves to just lay in bed under the warm covers with pillows all over the place, hugging his lover.

While there is nothing in the universe that can make him even consider skipping cuddle times, there is one thing that can make you. The scorching heat. It’s warm, and you can’t stand it.

So when you go into bed that night you know that you will have to fight your way into freedom. But he just kept dragging you over to him again and again.

“It’s hot as hell in here I cannot handle the heat, just let me gooo…” you keep on trying to fight him off of you.

“Relax a little and you will cool down.” He whined, just wanting to sleep already.

“Let me go! You are like a heater!” You complain as you try to crawl out of his grasp, but to no avail.

He just grumbled and buried his face into your hair. You stopped moving for a moment and sighed. That’s when you pulled the ultimate move - the tornado. You started spinning in the direction opposite of him and in the process pulling a bit of his hair causing him to let go.

Which wasn’t exactly calculated in your plan…you straight up rolled off the bed and onto poor mimi who was sleeping on the floor right next to the bed.

She jumped and looked at you as if prepared to attack until she recognised your face in the dark and calmed down.

Meanwhile Jing Yuan crawled over and peeked his head to see what happened and started laughing at you.

“Very funny, yes, ha ha. Mimi almost bit my head off.” You said sarcastically.

“Are you really going to blame me for this?”

I felt like another part was needed, but idk if I should continue with this series or start another one. I do know that us fatui fans have been starved of fanfics so maybe I should add even more of them?

And yes we did have a special guest in this one ♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪

[kzrosa-writes]

NSFW BELOW — MDNI

— “p-please– no more!” you would beg, your desperate moans muffled against a pillow. his tip glistening with your arousal and countless orgasms circled and teased your entrance, gently pressing into your tight hole before he pulled it out. you let out a shaky breath, suppressing a whine. he was so cruel, so so cruel to your poor pussy. your mind was hazy and blurry, only filled with thoughts of how well he fucked you. you couldn’t even keep count of how many times he had made you cum in the past hour.

“c’mon, darling… you can handle one more, can’t you?” he would coo as he continued to tease and rub your clit with his tip. gently pressing it into your aching hole before pulling it out, your pussy clenching around him in a desperate attempt to keep him inside. “even your sweet pussy wants me to stay inside of you, love.”

it was the same thing every damn time — promising you that it’ll be the last one, making you cum all over his cock, teasing your clit, and the cycle repeats. you’re surprised just how well you’re taking it, but it seemed like he knew your body better than you did. 

giving him a silent nod of approval, he proceeded to slide fully into you without warning, eliciting a sharp moan from you. you clutched tightly onto the sheets, your belly pressed against the soft plush of the mattress as he continued to fuck you roughly from behind. your moans and gasps were partially muffled against a pillow, drool pooling around the corner of your parted lips. no matter how much he teased you, you could never stay upset at him. not when he has his hard cock pounding into you as an apology. 

thrusting roughly and fervently into you, he slid his hand in between your thighs to rub your swollen clit. you could feel his length pulsating inside of you with each thrust, throbbing and aching for release. soon enough, you felt that familiar knot in your stomach as he brought you closer and closer to your climax. you couldn’t tell which felt better — his sloppy and desperate thrusts or his slender fingers rubbing frantically against your aching bud. 

with a final snap of his hips, you felt your walls of pleasure crash down for the nth time tonight. letting out a whiny moan, you came all over his cock and your thighs, your release soaking the sheets once again. not long after, he came too, filling you up with his familiar warm and sticky cum. the hand playing with your clit brushed against the wet, dripping mess between your thighs, pulling it away before licking his fingers. he savoured your delicious taste, a sweet reward he had earned from making you cum. 

he pushed himself off of you before carefully helping you to sit down on his lap. brushing his thumb against your bottom lip, he gave you a soft, tender kiss, a huge contrast to the rough, berserk fuck he just gave you. he pulled you closer to his chest, holding you in his arms as the two of you basked in the afterglow of your release. leaning closer to you, he whispered those same damn words into your ear.

“think you can handle another one, sweetheart?”

childe, dottore, wriothesley, pantalone, neuvillette, kaeya, zhongli, diluc, scara, kinich, ayato, alhaitham + your faves !! ♡

♡ masterlist ・ navi ・ request rules —

[affableramen]

when you’re hurt

°˖✧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚✧˖° °˖✧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚✧˖° °˖✧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚✧˖° °˖✧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚✧˖°

ᡣ𐭩 incl. kazuha, tartaglia, wriothesley, neuvillette, pantalone, capitano, dottore, alhaitham, baizhu

ᡣ𐭩 hurt + comfort, established relationships

Masterlist

°˖✧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚✧˖° °˖✧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚✧˖° °˖✧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚✧˖° °˖✧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚✧˖°

[bl6ks5wan]

“What beautiful necklaces you’re wearing, my dear. You look so breathtaking with them.” “These are your bite marks…”

A pained groan escapes you as you press your hand against his face, pushing him as much as possible away from your neck, to which he lets out a protesting sound. The distance between his face and your neck stays only for a few more seconds before he manages to press himself back into his rightful place.

His nose softly rubs against the red teeth marks that he’d left on your delicate skin. The soft rubbing against the- by now red- aching area on your neck is shortly after replaced by the feel of his lips. It also doesn’t take long till you feel the familiar heat of his breath ghost over your irritated skin, readying himself for another bite -another mark-, like an predator that is going to sink his teeth deep into his prey. To claim his price and taste his award.

“Stop it-“ your voice commands, yet the words go right through one ear and then back out of the other. Grabbing a fistful of his hair you tug his head back, making him meet your glare. He silently takes in your expression, how the glare seems to lack the actual anger and how your cheeks seem to be covered with an adorable blush.

“Hah… my apologies- but I haven’t finish my work.”, he responds while his gaze drifts back down to the various bite marks and hickeys that were trailing from your neck to your shoulders. In his eyes these were like delicately crafted necklaces, specially made only for you to wear and only him to see. The hickeys were like gems, making the final touches to the already beautiful masterpiece.

His lips part slightly to let his tongue lick over them as his gaze returns to your eyes. His fingers softly squeez your waist before they slide down to your hips and thighs. “I promise, only one last bite and I shall leave you in peace”, he whispers softly as he slides down, down to your -so far spared- thighs. “Only… one last… nibble,” he promises as his lips press a soft kiss on the inside of your thigh while he keeps eye contact. You both know it’s a lie but it also would be a lie if you said you didn’t like it.

He just loves to cover you up with his marks far too much. It’s like an addiction to him. One he doesn’t wish to get rid off.

- DOTTORE, Pantalone, Wriothesley, NEUVILLETTE, Zhongli, AYATO, Dan Heng, Aventurine, JING YUAN, MALLEUS, Jade, Lilia, CROWLEY, Solomon, LUCIFER, MAMMON, Satan

[pandj0ra]

© uvuyai 2024. . . ~ ღ

𝓛𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝑴𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝑾𝒐𝒍𝒇

–tw. Fem reader, size difference, sub!wolf!reader x dom!bunnie!boy, breeding, bratty reader, doggy style to prone bone, overstimulation, hybrid au, kabedoning, tail tugging, eating outz from behind, creampies, brat taming, enemies to lovers, dub-con(???), teasing, mindbreak, masturbation, mention of heats, public sex in a storage room, blowjob,

ღ ~ You never liked this bunny boy that's just roaming around thinking he's the shit. You were pretty sure he's tired of you aswell. Always in his face saying that you could easily break him down, he doesn't take you seriously by your height and just smirks which ticks you off even more.

You always find a way to tease him. Either by tugging on his tail or ears, or sitting on his lap when he's studying or reading, grinding down to get a reaction from him. He doesn't have a popular fanbase so you won't have to worry about girls getting jealous or flocking over him.

He's very quiet too. You've done things to him that would've surely made him whine or moan. You know you can overpower this big guy. But, why isn't he getting affected by any of your methods? You almost want to cry. But you won't show it.

Outside of the building, you hold his arm as if you were his girlfriend. Wrapping your tail around his leg as you follow him to a café or even his home. He doesn't care what you do. You look adorable looking around in his home. He'll even be willing to let you stay a night or two. Even let's you wear his shirts which are really oversized since it hangs low past your knees. You were left with just his shirt, your panties, and thigh highs.

He let you sleep on his bed and he takes the sofa. As you let some time pass, you took a hold of his pillows and hugged it with your arms and legs as if it was a real person you were cuddling. You grind your cunt onto the pillow, your juices seeping onto the cotton filled thing from your panties. You'll just give an excuse saying that you drool a lot. You inhaled the scent that lingered on the pillow and sheets, making your cunt stickier with slick.

You grinded down harder onto the pillow but you grew frustrated with the outcome of not reaching your high. You sat up and pushed your panties to the side. Your underwear was so sticky that slick stuck to it when you pushed it to the side. Your nimble fingers toyed with your clit and pushed some fingers into your cunt. You let out low whimpers and moans so as not to wake him up. You closed your eyes, deep into pleasure as you were reaching your high. Your hands reached that spot you longed to touch for so long, you squirted onto the sheets and on your hands.

You let out a few squeaks and breathy moans before realizing you wet his sheets. You fixed yourself up and wiped the sweat that was dripping down your temples. You ran to his closet and rummaged through them to find another clean sheet. You found one and replaced the one. You threw the other one in the far back of the closet and went to sleep. You hoped you didn't wake him.

Oh but you did wake him. He was just reading when he heard breathy whimpers coming from his room. He crept to the slightly cracked bedroom door and spied on you as you continued your act. He felt blood rushing to his cock and to his surprise he was hard. He palmed himself before taking out his thick and girthy cock out. The tip had a pearl of precum drool from the slit. His hand strokes the base as he continued to pump at the sight of you.

Soon he came in sync with you. His cum falling on the floor. He went to the bathroom and grabbed a towel to wipe it up and threw it in the dirty hamper. He went back to the sofa and went to sleep.

The next day was a weekend. You woke up to see him making breakfast. You tapped his shoulder, saying that you'll need a ride home. He nodded and told you that he had an extra toothbrush in the bathroom if you needed one. You both ate and reluctantly complimented his food while feeling hot in the face with a pout. He chuckled silently.

You brush your teeth with the extra toothbrush and put your work clothes back on, you tie your blazer around your waist and grab your essentials to go wait in the car like he told you.

The whole car ride to your place was very quiet, except you told him which direction to go. You arrived outside of your apartment complex and it was time for you to go. You leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek and left the car. You noticed he didn't leave afterwards and noticed he was looking at you so you blew him a kiss and waved him off. He shyly waved and drove off.

Monday soon came rolling by and you were back to your normal self. The teasing was getting on his nerves today not because he was tired of you, no. He was surprised you didn't kneel at his feet, begging him to take you.

Throughout the week, you were slowing down your teasing and talked to the other employees. On a late Friday, you and him were told to work late hours. The boss gave him the keys as he trusts him to lock up the place. You both were at the end of your shift and you just wanted to get home and relax in a nice shower. He ran off somewhere maybe to the bathroom but you saw he was done.

You yawned and rubbed your eyes and you were finishing up the printing and typing. You took a sticky note and wrote I'm done so I'm taking your keys to your car to wait inside. You packed up your things and took the elevator down.

You tiredly walked to the entrance but your arm got pulled into a storage room. You screamed but the person used their hand to cover your mouth. You ears went flat on your head as your tail fluffed up in fear.

A light turned on and you saw him. Your ears perked up and your tail felt the urge to wag. “E-eh? Why did you drag me here?!” you yelled but he did nothing but glare down at you which made you feel really small. “You been nothing but a brat, little miss wolf.” he crosses his arms as he glares at you more intently.

He started walking towards you and you back away slowly as if YOU were the bunny in this situation. You hugged your tail, hoping he wouldn't hurt you. You saw his shadow hovering over you. You peered up and saw him with his hand placed above your head. “I know what you did in my bed, little wolf.” you looked at him as if he was crazy but your eyes widened as the thought came back to you. “I-I can explain y'kn-” “There's no need for it.” and with that he swiftly lifted your woke skirt up, revealing your drenched panties and slick thighs.

You gasped and tried to cover it but he took your wrists into his hands and pinned them to the wall. “Don't try to cover up now since you didn't think about it while fingering yourself in my bed,” your ears went flat and you felt your face go hot and meekly apologized.

“Get on your knees.” you were about to ask him why but met his sharp gaze and it said otherwise. You got on your knees and waited for something to happen. His hand reached the zipper of his pants and unzipped it. He pushed his underwear down to reveal his thick, long, and girthy dick. It nearly smacked you in the face but you backed up, you gave his dick a scared look of terror. How could he, a bunny, have such a big thing like that?

He nudged his cock to your lips and you gave it a kitty lick. You let your lips engulf the tip of his dick and slide your tongue on the underside. You inched his cock further down your throat but your tongue could barely lick the underside. Your head moved faster with the motion to grant him his release. Breathy moans came from above you as you didn't notice his hand itching its way to the back of your head. His palm grasped your head to push you down further on his cock, you nose touching his pubic area as he blew his load in your throat.

You tried to move away but his hand kept you there as cum kept pumping from his dick. Some were already leaving your mouth even though you hadn't moved away. Some cum dropped on the floor and some landed on your face.

He finally released your head and you coughed when, trying to catch your breath. You noticed he undressed himself from his blazer and dress shirt and placed it on the ground in a neat way. “On all fours, now.” he pointed at the clothes and you shyly moved the clothes, positioning yourself on all fours. His hands moved all over your body to undress you fully. He only left you in your thigh highs as he thought it was cute to see your legs thrashing with the tight material squeezing at your thighs.

His hands grab at your thighs and move himself to your sticky and dripping pussy.”Pleasepleaseplease. . .” you begged. He dove his tongue in your cunt, your juices hitting his tongue. Your eyes widened as your thighs started to shake and tremble. He flattened his tongue on your cunt which made you get closer on the edge as he thrust his tongue in and out your pussy. His tongue thrust into that spot that made you squirt on his face. Your arms collapsed under you and your ass was now in the air.

You were embarrassed how you wet his face. Your ears and tail drooped and he noticed but just gave pats to your head. You snuggled your head up into his head and didn't notice how his cock head was basically breathing on your pussy.

He thrusted in while gripping your waist. Your hands clawed at the clothes beneath you that were protecting you from bruising your hands and knees. You mewled as he hit right on the spot, making you gush all over his dick. Your pussy was slightly struggling to take him fully in. Just pushing your pussy past its limit was a life achievement for him. He pulled at your tail so you can meet with his thrusts. You whined and yelped due to how sensitive your tail was.

Your tongue was sticking out your mouth in the most lewd fashion. You tried to crawl away but he grabbed your arms and pulled them behind you to further thrust into your pussy. You dove your face into the clothes beneath you and bit them between your teeth to muffle your high pitched moans and whines. His cock aimed at your cervix so much it made you feel dizzy. He could see the stars swirling above your head and your hazy eyes.

He leaned closer and started peppering soft kisses on your face. You were the smallest thing he's ever seen that even when he leaned forward you were still in the doggy position. He bit at your fluffy ears and moved his hand down to play with your clit. As he kept thrusting at your womb, he noticed your stomach kept stretching outward. He moved his hand up and felt his cock punch at your cervix which showed on your stomach. He stopped thrusting which made you look back. “I-is something wro- OOmph!” his wild thrust back into made you get pinned to the floor. His shadow hovered over you as he pinned both his arms beside you.

You whined as the mushroom tip dove back into your cervix. If he went hard enough, he would burst through. Your legs thrashed behind you as he kept hitting the spots that you loved deep inside. Your tongue stuck out your mouth with some saliva sticking on your tongue and some drooling from your chin. His finge pinched at your tongue which made you grimace and struggle to put it back in your mouth. Your breathing got heavy and started to squirm. You pushed your hips back with all your strength to meet his thrusts. You squirted onto his dick, some splashing on his pubic area.

A few more thrusts into you and he came inside you. He creamed deep inside your womb that it made your stomach bloat which he was proud of.

Your body collapsed to the ground as you were finally tired. He got up and looked at your form. Sweat glistening on your skin, the white substance leaking from your bruised hole, and your trembling body. He grabbed you by your waist and cradled you in his arms. He grabbed his and your clothes and left the storage room to finally go home and lock up the place.

The dommy bunny boi :3 /Blade, Jing Yuan, Dr. Ratio, Aventurine, Gallagher, Boothill, Sampo, Welt, Pierro, Capitano, Pantalone, Wriothesley, Neuvillette, Alhaitham, Choso, Toji, Gojo, Nanami, AND OTHER CHARACTERS THAT FIT!!

ღ ~ DO NOT PLAGIARIZE, COPY, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE MY POST W/O PERMISSION. DO NOT COPY MY LAYOUT. YOU MAY TAKE INSPIRATION BUT MAKE SURE TO CREDIT ME.

[ I hate writing dialogue 😭]

[iiotic]

HOW VARIOUS GENSHIN MEN WOULD CALL YOU; PETNAMES

includes: kazuha, venti, wriothesley, neuvillette, pantalone, dottore, pierro, scaramouche, zhongli, lyney, wanderer, kinich, alhaitham, sethos, tighnari, childe, cyno, xiao, venti

masterlist | navigation

── ꒰precious, angel, pretty. ｡˚ ꒱

he sees you as an angel. everything about you is so precious, so pure, at least he thinks so. you're a walking perfection in his eyes. you'd think you'd melt on the spot hearing him call you so delicately.

kazuha, venti, wriothesley, pantalone

── ꒰dear, dearest, darling. ｡˚ ꒱

some might call it old fashioned, yet in your eyes it's extremely romantic. you always feel so warm and loved whether you hear him call you that and he'd never stop calling you that, even during a fight. it's a win, win.

neuvillette, pierro, zhongli, lyney, kinich, alhaitham, dottore

── ꒰babe, baby, honey. ｡˚ ꒱

it's standard, yet it doesn't bother you. your grateful that he didn't make up an ugly petname like other couples do; like lizard. you feel so loved and seen everytime he calls you that, which is all the time.

childe, wriothesley, sethos, wanderer, tighnari

── ꒰calls you by your name. ｡˚ ꒱

he doesn't understand nor know what petnames are for, he just doesn't like them. he thinks that it's the affection that matters, the quality time or gift giving.

wanderer, xiao, cyno, scaramouche, kinich

── ꒰gives you an unique petname. ｡˚ ꒱

he would either call you by your name or give you a unique petname, he wouldn't want to call you boring, common petnames. he'd call you after your favourite flower or something that reminds him of you.

venti, dottore, pantalone, neuvillette, pierro

© 2024 iiotic. — do not steal, translate or repost any of my content onto any other platform

thank you sosososo much for almost 800 followers, I rlly rlly love y'all and appreciate your support even though I don't post as much!!

[rockingbytheseaside]

Hey 👋 there just wanted to say I really like your art and how you flesh out the characters of the fatui.

Especially pierro

I was wondering if you’re taking requests, if you could make one about how reader is deeply injured to the near point of death and the fatui (separate)

Have different reactions to seeing their beloved almost dying and find the culprit or culprits involved and have them tortured or whatever their reaction is. And they later on stay by their side making sure they return to full health not knowing what they did for them.

(but in way I like seeing their cruelty for their reader getting hurt come to light and how they would feel.)

You don’t have to acknowledge this ask but it’s just something I think about

This request was asked by several anons and @ghost3029 ages ago. Apologies if I can’t tag all the lovelies here

✦ Someone hurt you, and how they take care of the matter

(Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone, Tartaglia) 

(Slight tw: mention of injuries, blood, violence.) 

To be the enigmatic beloved of a Harbinger means to have eyes on you - some in awe, while others with ill intent. Luckily for you and your dear Harbinger, privacy is paramount no matter what his job entails. However, what happens when you venture too close to harm’s grasp, whether by accident or by someone’s design?

✧ When Pierro saw the dangerous glint in your eyes, he knew two things were happening: you had just been embroiled in a lethal fight, and you would faint in any second due to immense fatigue. He doesn’t call out your name or contort his expression into shock or trepidation. Because in split seconds, he sprints towards you, catching your collapsed form right into his arms. 

Limp and marred with wounds, even your unconscious state looks worn out as The Jester swiftly lifts you in his arms. He was undeterred by the sight of your blood slowly seeping out onto his immaculate white suit. No, the Fatui Director is a calm but unfazed man. 

“You always took matters into your own hands, my divine. Ever so willful, always overexerting yourself.” - Pierro murmured to himself, before turning to face the monstrous culprit who dared to harm you, a remnant of Abyssal Corruption. “However, for someone to raise their hand at you is a sin. My beloved might be merciful when granting death, but I – don't.” 

You didn't hear or register anything; the last thing you remember is Pierro's hand shaking as he held you tightly. When you woke up groggy, wrapped in the ache of healing wounds, you weren't shocked to see yourself clad in clean clothes, resting by a spacious, comfortable bed. Beside you was Pierro; unmoving, sitting. He never once left your room.

“For… How long was I out?”

“For a whole day, dear. Do not fret, the best doctors and healers in Snezhnaya worked swiftly to patch you up.” – his palm gently rested on your forehead, brushing your hair aside as he ensured your temperature was stable. Even his gaze, so often sharp with command, had softened, devotion etched into every touch or glance.

“A-and the Abyssal monster I fought? Is everyone safe…?”

“Hm? You still concern yourself with that? This dread is not yours to bear, my divine. How many times must I remind you that it is not your duty to dirty your hands? Rest easy instead. No filth will tarnish the peace I have built for us.”

✧ Il Capitano is aware you can defend yourself. He respects your might; he doesn't doubt your cunning strength. However, can he stand idle when the clash of steel begins and the threat of violence dares to draw near you? Can his heart bear witness as you endure blow after blow, even in triumph?

No, he cannot, and this is his weakness. His body cries out to quickly shield you whenever an enemy gets too close. Even when you're amidst the roaring chaos of a battle, he intercepts those who venture too close with relentless force. You were expecting that, but you groan in frustration either way:

“Capitano, this is not your battle. I can manage myself!”

“I will not let you barge into danger recklessly,” – he retorted. The Antumbra held steadily in his hands. “You're moving too fast.” 

He refused to move between you and the onslaught of corrupted abyssal monsters. For a man who often reprimanded you about being reckless, your beloved hypocritically used his body as a shield whenever you were in danger. 

“Thrain-!” 

He rarely hears your stern voice. But the call of his true name rendered him motionless for a minute, a tense silence riveting between you. Before either of you could add another word, an abyssal mimic wielding the form of a Ruin Guard aimed straight at Capitano’s back. However, you were quicker in blocking the massive creature, taking the blow instead.

After the waves of monsters dissipated, the battlefield was left in ashes. A few of the Harbinger's soldiers scavenged the aftermath in search of any injured. You, however, clutched your disheveled wounds. Turning to face Capitano, you were met with his eerily silent and pitch-black expression. 

“Listen, Capi,” - you began quietly, voice laced with guilt. “I'm sorry for… raising my voice like that. I only meant t-”

Before you could finish your mumbles, Capitano hoisted you up onto his broad shoulders and started moving away. 

“Hey, hey! Put me back! I was in the middle of an apology,” - you thrashed, wiggling against his back while he kept a very resolute grip on you. Being slung like a sack of potatoes after a harsh battle only doubled your shame. Especially when he gave you a tap on your hip to keep you still. 

“Shush. I've heard enough. I am dragging you to the infirmary myself,” – he added sternly, one hand holding you while the other carrying his sword. “And if it means throwing you over my shoulders and reminding you how to be inert, then so be it. Either your recklessness will kill you, or my heartache will end me instead.” 

✧ For a man like Il Dottore, dissecting near-lifeless forms beneath sterile light was a ritual long devoid of novelty. But when fate laid his beloved upon that same table, the clinical detachment in his gaze curdled into something far more lethal.

Your cuts were sutured and your bleeding staunched by the deft encirclement of his bandages. As your shallow breathing mellowed down, teetering on and off your consciousness, you scarcely perceived the taut silence in the lab, or the meek voice of the Fatui soldiers that brought you back: 

“We have delivered them safely, Lord Harbinger. As per orders.” 

“Brought them you did, indeed. But safely…?” – his gloved grip retracted from your bandaged limbs, like a coiled snake slithering back. “Spare me your excuses, this is nothing but a horrendous job done. One command, and you botched it: return them to me unharmed.” 

The Fatui soldier stood rigid, hands clasped behind his back, though his head hung low. The Harbinger's eyes remained hidden behind the gleam of his mask, but the venom in his voice alone was enough to conjure the hell that would follow should any wretch dare to utter defiance.

“Tell me, if I shattered one of your bones for every drop of their blood spilled, would that seem just? Or maybe,” – he drawled, each syllable an iron weight, “For every stitch I had to use on their skin, and every roll of bandage used, you compensate by skinning your own limbs-”

The murderous tension was interrupted when your coughing echoed in the room – “... D-dottore?”

A single word, a call of his name, yet one that made The 2nd drop all his threats in an instant, kneeling on the cold stone floor beside your medical cot. “Yes, my dear, yes. Shh, I am here now. You're safe.” 

Your eyes fluttered toward him, the weight of exhaustion rendering your limbs motionless. Yet even then, you smiled faintly, reassuring him to keep his anger at bay, your fingers meekly reaching for his hand. You didn't say much, too drained to squander air that your body so dearly needed for healing. And Dottore didn't mind. Holding your single palm in both hands, he clasped it close and brought it to his lips. 

Like a heretic clutching an unworldly relic, he stayed there and held your wrist close to himself in a reverent prayer. As long as he could feel the quiet thrum of your pulse beneath his fingers, he would call down ruin upon Teyvat itself for every wound carved into you.

✧ Pantalone leaned closer in his seat, hand deftly reaching for the vial of saline as he pressed a dampened cloth to your wounds with deliberate tenderness. The Harbinger, ever composed in his peculiar cheer, wore his usual merry smile, opting to dismiss the servants and tend to your injuries with his own hands.

“Walk me through it again, darling, how ever did you end up with such dreadful scrapes?”

“Well, I'm telling you!” – you began with animated exasperation. “I was on my daily expeditions, doing my usual exploration around Jueyun Karst. A nice farmer on the way pointed me to where to harvest fresh Qingxin flowers. So I went on, but a group of Treasure Hoarder bandits ambushed me.”  

As Pantalone listened patiently, he continued to clean your wounds, ensuring even the smallest cuts were secured underneath a band-aid, his thumbs softly gliding over the bandages to ensure they seal onto your skin tenderly.  

“And- And then…! I went Pow! And then slash! I defended myself because they tried to steal all of my Mora. Thankfully, some local heard the ruckus and came to my aid. So, all in all, I got out of it with barely a scratch, in my humble opinion.”

The Harbinger shook his head, tidying up the bandage wraps before reaching to pat your hair – “Tsk, tsk, tsk. This won't do, you silly. You must be more careful when adventuring in the wild like that. No matter how minor the danger may seem.”

You could only exhale a sigh of reluctant surrender. You knew he had a point, and you did feel the fatigue catching up on you now that you were back home safely. Thus, with a loving embrace and a goodnight kiss, you decided to retire for the night. Pantalone waved a cheerful goodbye, watching your personal servants following dutifully in tow as you left his study room. 

You’d sit and sulk, like a child reminded for the tenth time to be careful when playing outside. Even when you reminded Pantalone of the time you'd bested a Stonehide Lawachurl single-handedly, he'd merely sigh wistfully and kiss your cheek.  

“Oh, I know, I know, my love. But still, take it slow for a couple of days, will you?” - he kept his thumb gently running down your cheek, his smile imbued with quiet reassurance. “I’ve no desire to see you crossing paths with bandits again. Rest easy, darling.”

And the moment you departed? His charming smile immediately vanished. 

Without turning to face the bowing servant, he ordered courtly, his voice lacking the usual innocent warmth he used with you – “Report. Now.” 

“The intel came in from the operatives we stationed on route. The treasure hoarders they spoke of are being tracked as we speak, Lord Harbinger.” 

Pantalone drew in a measured breath, quelling the fire rising in his veins. Before you even made it back home to his arms, he had already received news of the attack. How was he informed so quickly? Simply because he stationed the best spies to blend into the backgrounds and keep track of your safety, so-called invincible bodyguards all bound by oath and coin to the Regrator himself.

The nice farmer you met in Jueyun Karst? The kind local who noticed the commotion when Treasure Hoarders dared to attack you? All Fatui Agents, steeped in stealth, honed in combat, disguised perfectly to serve as his eyes while you kept living the best of your life. Even the personal maids who help you with your usual nightly routines – the best of Fatui Operatives from the House of the Hearth, ordered personally to function as your closest bodyguards by the 9th.

Pantalone was no fool. He would never let his suffocating devotion eclipse your freedom, especially when you sought nothing from the Fatui. You deserved joy, unshackled and luminous, filled with wild adventures and quiet victories of your own making. He would never command the course of your life, instead, he would love you as you are, unperturbed by his status as a Harbinger.

But you don't deserve this worry. He would shoulder this dirty burden on his own.

“The Agents acted sufficiently,” – he noted dully, his ringed fingers intertwined elegantly. “Instruct them to continue tracking the Hoarders. It's clear they tried to use my beloved as leverage to get to me. Ensure each and every single one of them disappears. Make it quick and make it clean.” 

✧ Smash. Tartaglia raised his arms up, the club-like piece of wood was but a crude piece of a fence he grabbed on the go. Smash. He didn't even register when he picked it up instead of his Hydro Riptide swords. No, his set of weaponry would've been much more precise. Too clean for this job. Smash. This club is slow and would deliver a much messier message. Smash.    

When did blood get on his face? 

The Harbinger had already forgotten the face of the person he had just clubbed to the ground, their limbs broken; crimson blooming in grotesque contrast against the pristine white of snow. The cries and pleas went unheard, like a static buzz behind his temples, drowning out everything but the pounding pulse of rage. All he could think about was how warm the vivid red looked against white.

That is until your voice pulled him out of his haze – “Childe… Childe!”

He turned to face you, disoriented as to why you're looking at him in exasperated horror, your eyes widened, and your voice breathless. Ah, he remembered now. Someone called you the 11th’s lapdog, had dared to treat you like a gutter-born wretch, and seized your wrist with rough, presumptuous fingers. That's why he chose a random piece of a wooden log. And that's why he delivered a slow, painful message to this person over a merciful end. 

“... Oh.” – Harbinger stated simply, leaving the club to sink into the snow with a dull thud. “I'm sorry, sweetie. Did I take too long?”

Walking away, as if the whimpers of a bleeding man on the snow did not reach him, Tartaglia smiled at you. The luster in his eyes is still absent. 

“I apologize, sweetheart, you shouldn't have seen most of that. I got too distracted.” 

You remained speechless. Your silence clung to you like frost, your body still trembling not only from what happened, but from the visceral sight of it. Even when your beloved noticed that, trying to soothe you by wrapping his arms around your shoulders, he failed to realize you were probably shaken from the blood around his hands. 

“Come here, let's go home for now. I'm sorry, dearie, I'm sorry.”

Red, he thought again, warm like you against his cool skin. 

[localplaguenurse]

Pantalone in private be like:

LITERALLY omg I said it before in some of my old Pantalone headcanons but I imagine part of it is he's genuinely really touch starved as a result of his impoverished youth. When he's in public he keeps it on the down low, mostly keeping it to some scandalous hand holding or, god forbid, something as raunchy and debauched as a peck on the cheek!

In private though, he always needs to be touching his partner in some way. Not even in a sexual context, something like sitting next to each other on the couch and having your legs touch is enough, though Pantalone is inherently a greedy man so he will be wanting more. He'll tilt his head, and that's your cue to lean against him, or if he catches you reading his book, he'll pull you onto his lap so you can read along easier.

I think it's something he's aware of but tries to downplay in order to maintain this intimidating reputation he's built for himself. There are a few things he'd be willing to admit to, like how he just sleeps better when you're right there next to him, or that his favourite part of coming home after a trip is how warm your hugs are. No one bats an eye at that. They don't need to know that he will literally crawl on top of you when you're in bed so he can rest his head on your chest, or that sometimes he prefers to be the little spoon when you're sleeping, or that playing with his hair will have him in the palm of your hand.

[aeferfckr]

i dont even watch porn like that guys but i found this absolute GEM like i haddd to share with the class

fem/afab!reader, impact play (slap dat ass🙌), nicknames (baby, princess, lwk good girl)

the sounds of skin against skin fill up your boyfriend's bedroom as he rams into you from behind, his hand slapping your ass for a dizzying mixture of pleasure and pain.

you scream into the pillow below you - the only thing semi-grounding you on your trip to pound town -, taking in full force how his pillows smell just like him. this only added to the allure, for all of your senses are full of him and him alone.

the thought makes you mewl, your cunt squeezing around him impossibly tighter as he grips into the crumpled up blanket holding your ass up.

"fffffuck, you're so tight baby." his voice deepens as he rocks into you even faster. you could only respond with open-mouthed moans as his tip grazed the parts of you that had you seeing galaxies.

you were cumming soon, and he knew that.

"you g'nna cum for me, princess?"

",,yes,," you manage to say from the top of your high. looking back at him, his furrowed face meeting your teary eyes and drooling lips, you ask him, "can i?"

he almost stops entirely. he wanted to launch himself onto you and kiss that blissful expression on your face, but he had to finish what he has started. with one last slap to your ass he commands,

"cum."

and like the goodest girl in the world, his princess, you obey.

CHILDE, WRIOTHESLEY, wanderer, kazuha, kinich, pantalone, CAPITANO + ur favs <3

[quimichi]

NSFW - MDNI

He's obsessed with your voice. He loves the way you whimper and just struggle your words out. He loves to to tease, he LIVES to tease you. He's so mean whe he asks what you want, just so he can deny it and command you to beg for it.

He's buried deep inside of you, barely able to hold himself up, panting heavily. He looks down at the pretty face you're making and he can't help but think that the only thing that would make it better is the sound of your beautiful voice.

"Tell me what you want, baby" he breathes in your ear, dropping his head down to your neck. He stopped moving. His hot breath hitting your heated skin. "I asked you somethin'~" he hums leaning back down to press kiss over your shoulder. You can practically feel his smirk in his voice.

"Please-" is all you're able to stutter out at first and it makes him grin onto your skin as he lifts his head to shake it at you. "Naw, I couldn't quite hear you princess,.. you should use bigger words for your needs?" there's this pout on his face, he's mocking you. Out of desperation you kiss him, in hopes that he could possibly forget about your loss of words.

He indulges you for a few seconds before pulling away and raising his eyebrow at you. That's when you realise he's serious; he really won't move an inch until you tell him exactly what you want. "Please-, just.. fuck me" you whine, you know it won't be enough for him but you hope it is because if he doesn't move in the next thirty seconds you feel you might combust. You honestly don't know what will combust, but something is definitely blowing up and its also gonna be you.

"Good start, baby, but it's not enough" he chuckles at your responding whine and buries his head into you neck chuckling. Although this is more than entertaining, he also has to hide the fact this is just as agonizing for him like it is for you. "How do you want it, hm? Tell me how you want me to fuck you." "Please, just fuck me. Fuck me hard. Fuck me dumb. Fuck me so hard you break me, the bed or the wall. I don't care just please fuck me" you desperately shout out in embarrassment.

He lets out an elated laugh, this is exactly what he wants to hear. He leans in to kiss you and ends up muffling the happy whine you let out when he finally starts moving. But quickly you feel dizzy, you're beyond coherent words at this point. You can't even think straight. He feels so good inside you that you almost go crazy. You instinctively grab at his skin, raking your nails over his shoulder blades. He loves being able to get you like this, he loves listen to you break like this. You and the pretty noises you make are all his to enjoy....

Kageyama, Tsukishima, Matsukawa, Kuroo, Atsumu, Suna, Tendou, Terushima (haikyuu)

Kaeya, Al-Haitham, Ayato, Itto, Scaramouche, Wriothesley, Dottore, Pantalone (genshin)

Geto, Nanami, Gojo, Toji (JJK)

Hisoka, Chrollo, Feitan, Phinks (HxH)

Rafayel (love and deepspace)

Leona, Lilia, Jade, Floyd, Ace, Trey (twst wonderland)

[kzrosa-writes]

— men who are absolutely head over heels for you. he doesn’t hesitate to hold you every single chance he gets, pulling you into his lap as he works. nuzzling his chin onto your shoulder as he mindlessly scribbles on his documents, the only thing in his mind being you. holding onto your hand, your waist, or your shoulder, he doesn't care where the hell he is. all he cares about is holding you and showing you off to the world. he never fails to flaunt you to everyone he knows, always pulling you to his side as he talks to people, while he goes on about how much he loves you. no matter the topic, he would always make it about you, because he is just so in love with you !!

wriothesley, dottore, ayato, pantalone, diluc, childe, zhongli, neuvillette, kaeya, alhaitham + your faves !! ♡

[genshinluvr]

Marks of the Dragons

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader, Neuvillette x Isekai'd!Reader, Zhongli x Isekai'd!Reader, Zhongli x Isekai'd!Reader x Neuvillette

Summary: Zhongli and Neuvillette marked you— they marked you by biting you. What lead up to that situation? You went on a trip to Chenyu Vale with the Chief Justice of Fontaine and Funeral Consultant of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.

Note: My work schedule has been very inconsistent that I wasn't able to work on anything :< This smut is probably awful since I haven't written smut in so long. Before anyone new asks, yes, Kinich, Sethos, and Ororon are officially in the harem! Since I unknowingly manifested both Zhongli and Neuvillette's banners have a rerun together, I had to write a smut with the two finest men in Genshin. This idea is partially from the unpublished Zhongli smut I had in mind two years ago, so I had to make it a thing for both Zhongli and Neuvillette >:3 MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT. Anyway, I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (also Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warning: Horribly written smut, anal, oral, double penetration, blowjobs, hair pulling, choking, Zhongli and Neuvillette have two dicks, biting, marking, maybe mating???

Word Count: 7.1k

Everyone is lounging in the living room, sitting close to the fireplace, taking in the heat and cozy atmosphere—except for you. There’s an empty spot beside every man in the room, hoping you’ll cuddle up beside them. You’re still in your bedroom, preparing for the hangout. It’s freezing in the abode, which surprises everyone because who knew it could become freezing in the teapot? Heck, it looks like it might even snow by the looks of it. 

Scaramouche sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What’s taking [Y/N] so long? We’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes, and they still haven’t left their bedroom.”

“Maybe they fell asleep?” Venti suggests, looking around the room.

The lights in the living room are off. The only source of light illuminating the dark room is the fireplace, casting a warm glow. 

Kaeya yawns, stretching his arms before sprawling out on the couch, rubbing his eye with his knuckle. “If [Y/N] doesn’t come out of their room by the time the clock strikes eight, I’m going to fall asleep,” Kaeya mutters, leaning over to snatch the fluffy blanket from Diluc’s lap, earning a glare from the redhead.

Diluc sharply exhales from his nostrils, pinching the space between his eyebrows. “Why can’t you get your own blanket instead of taking other people’s belongings?” Diluc grumbles, reaching over to yank the blanket from Kaeya’s body.

Dainsleif rolls his eyes before getting up from his spot and heading towards the staircase. The men stop what they’re doing, watching the blond man walk up the stairs. “Since everyone is impatient, I’ll check on them myself.”

Upstairs in the estate, you stare at your reflection in the mirror, pulling up your turtleneck. You rarely wear turtlenecks, but since it’s freezing in the abode, you might as well wear one. You leave your bathroom and grab the nearest jacket. Your neck is aching, and it hurts each time you twist or tilt your head. You zip up your jacket, making sure the bandage is hidden beneath both your jacket and turtleneck. 

You peek at your reflection in the full-length mirror, eyeing yourself from head to toe as you walk to your dresser for your fuzzy socks. You dig through the dresser, searching for the specific fuzzy sock you cherish (it kept your feet warm well because the men would complain about your feet being cold every time it brushed against their legs).

A gentle knock from your bedroom door pulls you out of your thoughts. You quickly put on your socks before rushing to answer the door. You take a deep breath and open the door, your heart thundering in your chest when you see Dainsleif in front of you.

You smile at the blond man. “Hey, Dainsleif! Sorry for taking so long. I was looking for a comfortable jacket to wear along with these fuzzy socks, " you say, looking down at your sock-clad feet. 

Before Dainsleif can say anything, Childe pops up from the corner, placing a rough hand on Dainsleif’s shoulders, causing him to grunt and glare at the Harbinger. “You took your sweet time, snookums. Were you trying to look pretty for me?” Childe teases, winking at you.

You playfully roll your eyes, shaking your head, only to stop abruptly and let out a sharp breath. Dainsleif and Childe look at you worriedly, scanning you from head to toe for any injuries. You clear your throat, plastering a fake smile on your face.

“You two have nothing to worry about, I promise. I’m done getting dressed, and we can all go downstairs now. Let’s go before the others become restless,” you say, stepping out of your bedroom and walking past Dainsleif and Childe. 

As you’re descending the stairs, both Childe and Dainsleif trade looks with one another before following behind you. Once the three of you reach the living room, everyone sighs in relief and gestures for you to sit beside them. You raise your eyebrows, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“I’m not sure if I can sit with every one of you at the same time.” You say, waddling farther into the living room. “Who am I sitting with first?” You ask, sitting on the armrest where Dottore is seated. 

Dottore chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you onto his lap. “It looks like you subconsciously made your decision already, kitten. The others can wait.” He states, smirking at the other men in the room.

Itto shoots up from his spot. “Hey, that’s not fair!”

Dottore shrugs, shooting a shit-eating grin in Itto’s direction before continuing to have you wrapped up in his arms. When Itto opens his mouth to protest once more, Thoma pats his shoulders and shakes his head as if he’s telling Itto to let it slide for now. Itto grumbles and slumps in his seat, hugging the plush onikabuto to his chest with a pout.

Ayato clears his throat. “How about this? Each of us gets to have our turn with [Y/N] for twenty minutes,” Ayato suggests.

Ororon sighs, resting his head on the armrest. “There’s over thirty of us in the room. Do you really think we’ll be sitting here for hours just to have our turn to snuggle with [Y/N]?” Ororon grumbles, narrowing his eyes at Dottore.

Sitting near the fireplace, Sethos props his feet on the ottoman and chuckles. “Heck, if that means I get my chance to snuggle with my cuddle bug, I don’t mind waiting for my turn,” Sethos says, winking at you.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you sink farther against Dottore’s chest. Dottore’s chuckle rings in your ears, causing your face to feel even hotter. Kinich sighs, leaning back against the sofa while Ajaw nags his ears off about who knows what. Kinich briefly glances at you before something catches his attention. Kinich suddenly sits up straight, leans forward, and squints at you for a moment.

You can’t help but squirm under his gaze, feeling slightly awkward now that the others are starting to realize what Kinich is doing. Everyone’s eyes are all on you, trying to see what Kinich is staring at aside from you. 

You awkwardly clear your throat. “Is there something on my face?” You mutter, subconsciously reaching up to your face, feeling around for anything. Aside from the skincare products Xiao and Zhongli bought for you a few days ago while in Liyue, you feel nothing. 

“Are you alright by any chance?” Kinich asks, now standing in front of you and Dottore.

You blink up at Kinich owlishly before nodding your head. “Yeah, I’m okay! W-Why did you ask?”

Kinich continues to scrutinize you, his eyes scanning you from head to toe— looking at the smallest details on you. Kinich reaches forward and caresses your face in his hands, catching you off guard. You gulp, internally praying that he doesn’t notice the bandaids hidden beneath your turtleneck.

Kinich tilts your head up and turns your head from side to side while inspecting every little thing about you. Your heart continues to race in your chest, and your face gets hotter and hotter by the minute. Due to the excessive movement, the collar of your jacket and turtleneck conveniently slide down, making the bandages visible to everyone. 

“What happened to your neck?” Thoma gasps as people start to gather around you.

Kinich lets go of your head and takes a step back when Capitano brushes him to the side. Capitano kneels before you, caressing your face with one hand while unzipping your jacket with the other. Dottore hooks his finger underneath the collar of your turtleneck and pulls it down, revealing more of the bandage wrapped around your neck.

Baizhu furrows his eyebrows, inspecting the bandage. Capitano moves to the side so Baizhu can take a closer look at your supposed “injury.” You nervously peek from Baizhu’s shoulders, locking eyes with Zhongli and Neuvillette. The two men stand side by side, not saying a word. Are they going to let you handle this situation alone!? How are they so calm when you’re internally panicking?!

Baizhu pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs softly. “[Y/N], sweetheart, if you’re injured, you do not need to hide it from any of us— especially me. Your wounds could get infected if they’re not treated properly,” Baizhu chides, sitting at the edge of the seat beside Dottore while eyeing your bandaged neck.

“I’ll remove the bandages so Dr. Baizhu can properly treat your injury,” Capitano says, reaching for the corner of the peachy-beige bandage, ready to peel it off when you suddenly grab his wrist, stopping him.

You shake your head, eyes wide. “You don’t have to! I’m fine, I promise!” You squeak.

Pierro crosses his arms over his chest, scrutinizing you. “If you’re fine, then you would be okay with us taking the bandage off to inspect the wound,” Pierro says gruffly.

You swallow the lump in your throat, hesitantly releasing Capitano’s wrists and letting your hands fall onto your lap. Capitano proceeds to peel off the bandage, only to reveal another layer beneath. Capitano pauses and looks at you, not saying anything.

Xiao huffs. “If you were truly okay, then you wouldn’t need to have more than one layer of bandaid around your neck,” Xiao grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

Capitano continues where he left off, gently removing the bandage from your neck. You squeeze your eyes shut, knowing you will not be able to handle the other’s reaction to the marks on your neck. Once the bandage slowly reveals what’s underneath it, you hear sharp gasps from the men in the room.

Kaveh pushes Capitano out of the way while muttering an apology before ripping the bandage off completely, revealing two bite marks on each side of your neck. Kaveh gasps in horror, his eyes bugging out of his head.

“What kind of monster did this to you!?” Kaveh screams, cupping your cheeks in his hands as he forces you to look at him in the eyes.

Al Haitham sighs, pinching the space between his eyebrows while shaking his head. “For once, can you relax?” Al Haitham mutters, glaring at the blond architect. 

Kaveh ignores Al Haitham’s comment as he continues to examine the bite marks on your neck. Kaveh gently brushes the marks on your neck, causing you to wince and softly hiss at the contact. Kaveh looks at Baizhu, giving him a pleading look. 

Pantalone adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “I’m no doctor, but the bite marks look fresh. It looks irritated,” Pantalone mutters, stroking his chin.

“Who did this to you?” Tighnari asks.

You swallow the lump in your throat, heat rushing to your cheeks as you try to muster up an excuse. Surely, if the others knew who did this to you, they wouldn’t be too upset, would they? How are you supposed to explain this to the others when the perpetrators don’t look apologetic in the slightest? Heck, they look smug that the others found out about the bite marks on your neck. 

“Those look like deep puncture holes. I don’t believe normal human teeth could do this,” Cyno mutters, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

Gorou’s eyes widen as he nods. “You’re right! There’s no way any of us could have inflicted this type of… injury on [Y/N]!”

Heizou’s eyes light up as he walks toward you, his eyes remaining on your neck. “If you look closely, the teeth marks aren’t the same. One bite is larger than the other, and the canines don’t exactly match up. However, they seem to have a specific intention when leaving said bite marks on [Y/N]’s neck,” Heizou says, stroking his chin. 

For the next five minutes, the men talk among themselves, trying to figure out who or what could have given you the bite marks. They continue to look and examine you, making you feel like a strange phenomenon they have ever laid their eyes on. Well, technically, you sort of are one because you’re not from their world. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get those marks on your neck?” Aether asks, plopping down beside you.

You shift on Dottore’s lap, clearing your throat. “Uh…” you trail off, rubbing the back of your neck while subconsciously looking over at the two refined men two feet in front of you. For once, they’re not avoiding each other (well, Zhongli was the one avoiding). They stand beside each other, gazing at you intently, their eyes occasionally shifting to the marks on your neck. Of course, they’re not speaking to each other. They’re trying to keep up an act.

Wriothesley raises his eyebrows. “Why do you keep looking at Monsieur Neuvillette and Mister Zhongli? Surely they’re not the ones who left those marks on you, are they?” Wriothesley sarcastically asks, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“So? Are you going to tell us how you got those marks on your throat?” Aether asks, shaking his head.

You have an inkling feeling that Aether knows who the culprits are but doesn’t want to say it. You look elsewhere, trying to come up with an excuse. While trying to find the excuse, you start to think about what led to you getting marked by the Chief Justice of Fontaine and the Funeral Consultant. 

- Less than 24 hours ago -

Zhongli has offered to take you to Chenyu Vale after hearing you rave about the tea set Shenhe and Ganyu have gifted you when visiting the abode. Of course, the trip Zhongli initially planned was going to be just you and him. However, the Chief Justice of Fontaine wanted to tag along, and since Zhongli didn’t want to be rude, Zhongli reluctantly agreed to turn the trip for two into a trip for three.

“Ooh, twenty Chenyu Adeptea for fifteen hundred Mora?” You murmur, stroking your chin while the vendor talks your ears off. 

Neuvillette grabs you by the shoulders before steering you away from the stall while clearing his throat. “While it may seem like a great deal, I wouldn’t recommend it,” Neuvillette mutters, ignoring the glare the merchant shoots in his direction.

“But it’s the same tea that Ganyu and Shenhe gifted me!” You protest, attempting to look at the stall, but Neuvillette shakes his head, turning your head to make you face forward.

Neuvillette sighed, muttering about merchants trying to lure unsuspecting victims into a scam— a scam he had once fallen for a year prior during Lantern Rite. Neuvillette looks around, searching for a certain idiot Archon Funeral Consultant around the area. Footsteps approaching you and Neuvillette grab both your and the Iudex’s attention. 

Zhongli raises his eyebrows upon seeing the expression on Neuvillette’s face. “Is everything alright?” Zhongli crosses his arms over his chest.

You point at the stall behind you and Neuvillette. “Someone was selling packs of Adeptea for a great price! I was about to buy some, but Neuvillette steered me away from the merchant!” You explain, visibly upset.

Zhongli opens his mouth to scold Neuvillette, only for the Iudex to move out of the way to show the merchant and his stall. Upon laying his eyes on the familiar stall, Zhongli sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. For once, Zhongli is glad that Neuvillette decides to tag along on this trip. Who knows how much Mora you’ll end up spending and getting scammed in the end?

You continue to pout at Zhongli and Neuvillette, muttering about wanting to return to the abode with large quantities of Adeptea. Zhongli gestures to Neuvillette, letting the Iudex know that he’s got this handled. 

Zhongli approaches you, grabs your hand, and tucks your hair behind your ear with a small smile. “Dearest, we’ve been out and about in Chenyu Vale for quite some time now. Are you hungry by any chance?” Zhongli asks, gazing at you intently. 

“Huh. Now that I think about it, I am a little bit hungry…” you trail off, feeling your stomach rumble. “Yeah, I’m hungry.” You turn to Neuvillette, “What about you? Are you hungry as well, Neuvillette?”

The Chief Justice of Fontaine nearly cries with happiness. Not only is your attention taken away from the scam of a merchant, but you three are finally eating something after being away from the abode for hours. Granted, he did eat something prior to the trip, but walking around for hours can make a person hungry. 

Neuvillette nods, “Yes, I am feeling quite peckish myself,” Neuvillette replies.

Zhongli ignores Neuvillette’s response to your question as he smiles and caresses the back of your head before slipping his hands into yours and pulling you towards a small pavilion. “I know just a place to satiate your hunger.”

Neuvillette sighs, rolling his eyes. Even though the idiot Funeral Consultant reluctantly agreed to have Neuvillette join in on this trip, Neuvillette does not appreciate the fact that he was the third wheel on this trip. Being the angel that you are, you make sure that both Neuvillette and Zhongli get the same shared attention.

Everything else after ends up being a blur for you. You don’t remember what you ordered at the small restaurant, but you do remember drinking a particular tea that is not of Chenyu Vale origin— well, it’s not grown locally. The tea has an earthy taste with a hint of sweetness to it. It’s not your cup of tea (hehehe, get it? Cyno would be so proud of you), but it’s not like you hate it.

After eating and taking a small break from your once-in-a-century exercise, you, Zhongli, and Neuvillette stop by various stalls around Chenyu Vale.

Despite the beautiful region being known for its tea, the three of you ended up coming across an interesting stall. The merchant is selling fragrances from all over Teyvat. Neuvillette and Zhongli have no interest in fragrances, but they’re quite intrigued by the ones you would pick up and examine with curiosity.

“Ah! I see you’re looking at the Glaze Lily and Rainbow Rose fragrance! It’s quite popular among the female population in Chenyu Vale!” says the merchant, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

You grab a slip of white paper from the stand and spray the perfume onto the paper before taking a whiff of the popular fragrance. You close your eyes, taking in the scent. It smells lovely. The Glaze Lily and Rainbow Rose scented perfume reminds you of the two men standing behind you— not because the flowers are from the two men’s respective regions, but because they go well together, if that makes sense. 

The merchant leans on the stall, gazing at you curiously. “According to my customers, the scent varies from person to person. One customer told me she can smell Glaze Lily more than the Rainbow Rose. On the other hand, a recent customer informed me that she can smell the Rainbow Rose more than the Glaze Lily!”

You open your eyes and tilt your head, confused. You can smell both the Glaze Lily and Rainbow Rose— none of the scents were overtaking the other. While the perfume is quite fragrant and lovely, you don’t think this is for you. Plus, it’s pretty popular among the Chenyu Vale women, and you want something a little more… original. You want a signature scent that no other person on Teyvat can mimic. 

“I can smell both the Glaze Lily and Rainbow Rose just fine. However, this fragrance isn’t for me. Do you have something unique? I want something original, something people cannot mimic,” you say, placing the perfume down on the stall.

The woman strokes her chin before squatting down, digging through the stall while you rock back and forth on the balls of your feet. Even though this trip is initially for the Adeptea, you couldn’t help but feel drawn to the fragrance stall. Something about it captivates your attention and makes you want to buy something— definitely not because the fragrance bottles are beautiful (it is).

You peek at Neuvillette and Zhongli, scratching the back of your head with a sheepish smile. “Sorry if this is taking a while. I wanted something unique for myself,” you mutter, feeling heat rush to your cheeks.

Neuvillette smiles and strokes your hair. “There is nothing to apologize for, my dear. It’s not like we’re in a rush to return to the estate,” Neuvillette replies.

Zhongli nods, approaching you and Neuvillette. “I have booked us an inn for the night. We will not be able to return to the abode around this time, especially in weather like this,” Zhongli says, gazing at the now gray skies.

Your eyes widen at the realization. If the three of you have to stay at an inn for the night, how is that going to turn out? Speaking of the inn, will you three have separate bedrooms? Since Zhongli booked the room, are you sharing a room with Zhongli, and does Neuvillette have his own room? Or—

The merchant’s head peeks from the stall, her eyes wide with excitement. “I have found just the scent for you, my dear customer!” The woman fixes her disheveled hair before handing you a round perfume bottle. 

The bottle is a periwinkle color with gold and silver flecks scattered around the bottle. Silver vines wrapped around the bottle, and on those vines are cor lapis and noctilucous jade carved to look like blooming flowers. Zhongli raises his eyebrows while scrutinizing the bottle in your hands.

“If you don’t mind me asking, miss, what makes this fragrance special out of all the fragrances you sell?” Zhongli asks, never taking his eyes off the bottle.

You continue to examine the perfume bottle, enchanted by the appearance of the bottle. It has a sparkly squeeze bulb, tempting you into spraying it onto yourself. You and the merchant make eye contact. The woman grins and gestures to you to try it out yourself. You shrug, not thinking much of it, before pointing the perfume bottle at yourself and squeezing the squeeze bulb. You wince when you realize you sprayed way more than you intended.

“This fragrance is unique because whoever is wearing this scent will not only smell enchanting on the wearer, but only a small handful of people will be… charmed by the scent and the wearer,” she says, nodding with satisfaction.

You sniff the perfume, trying to figure out what the notes are. You’re no perfume expert, but it does have a bit of a unique smell to it. Zhongli and Neuvillette raise their eyebrows at the woman’s strange explanation of the so-called “unique” fragrance. 

“I don’t think this perfume is something I was looking for. Perhaps it’s not meant to be,” You sigh, handing the bottle back to the woman.

The woman frowns, taking the bottle from your hands and storing it in the cabinet of the stall. You, Zhongli, and Neuvillette bid the woman goodbye before heading to the inn. What a shame. You thought you were going to return to the abode with new perfume to wear, but you weren’t too fond of the scent of the perfume. It has an earthy scent, almost reminding you of what the air would smell like after heavy rain. If you remember correctly, there is a hint of mint and maybe Qingxin, if you’re not mistaken.

Zhongli wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. “Mora for your thoughts?”

“Oh, it’s nothing! I’m just a little disappointed that I ended up not buying anything from the fragrance merchant. It’s a shame the ‘unique’ fragrance isn’t as nearly special as what she made it out to be,” you reply, allowing Zhongli to steer you to your next destination as the skies get darker.

Neuvillette walks beside you, almost sandwiching you between him and Zhongli. The Chief Justice of Fontaine drapes his arm over your shoulder, giving them a comforting squeeze. “I understand that you’re disappointed about the outcome, but think of it this way: you have plenty of Mora to spend before we return to the estate tomorrow afternoon,” Neuvillette says.

You stop in your tracks, letting his words sink in. Neuvillette’s not wrong, and besides, you still haven’t bought the Adeptea you’ve been wanting to buy. After all, that was the point of your trip to Chenyu Vale, but the three of you were sidetracked by the things around you. You guess this is what happens if you travel with men older than Teyvat. 

You take three steps forward before turning to look at Zhongli and Neuvillette. “What you said is true, but I guess that is tomorrow me’s problem,” you shrug, “anyway, let’s go to the inn! It’s starting to sprinkle out here!” You grab their wrists before dragging them towards the large building.

The gust of wind allows both men behind you to catch a whiff of the perfume you sprayed on yourself. They freeze in their tracks, and the grips on your hands tighten, causing you to stumble back into them. 

You blink, craning your head up to see what they’re doing. Zhongli and Neuvillette bend down to sniff your neck. Goosebumps appear all over your body when you feel them hover near your neck to smell the perfume you have on. The tip of Neuvillette’s nose pokes your neck, making you involuntarily freeze. Their hot breaths fan over your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you try to remain calm while they continue to sniff your neck like a bloodhound. Without realizing it, Zhongli grabs underneath your chin and tilts your head up, exposing more of your neck.

Zhongli presses his nose against your neck, taking in deep breaths and breathing in the intoxicating scent of the perfume. Neuvillette closes his eyes, burying his nose into your collarbones and letting the smell of the perfume flood into his nose. You gulp, your heart thundering against your chest the more the two men press up against you.

“What’s gotten into you two?” You breathe, letting out a shaky sigh. 

Neuvillette and Zhongli ignore your question as they continue to bury their faces into your neck, occasionally licking and biting your neck. You lay your head on Zhongli’s shoulders while he continues to keep your head tilted back as he peppers kisses from your jawlines to your shoulders. 

“If you two want to have your ways with me, at least do it indoors and not where people can see,” you sputter, feeling heat pool into your lower regions. 

Upon hearing your words, Zhongli and Neuvillette stop what they’re doing and pull you to the inn. Zhongli checks you three into the inn and grabs the keys from the innkeeper’s hands before dragging you to the elevator with Neuvillette at your side. Once the elevator door closes, both men proceed with what they are doing.

Neuvillette stands behind you, his left arm around your waist while his right hand slips underneath your shirt. Zhongli stands before you, cupping your cheeks with both hands and pressing his lips against yours, devouring your lips. Zhongli grabs your right leg and wraps it around his waist, grinding against you. Your jaws drop, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Zhongli takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, grinding harder against your heat.

Before things can escalate, the elevator bell chimes, alerting the three of you that you have arrived at the floor where your rooms reside. Neuvillette and Zhongli drags you out of the elevator and to the room where you three will be staying. Now that you have some time to process what happened in the elevator, you can’t help but notice prominent tents forming in Zhongli and Neuvillette’s pants.

Neuvillette tosses you over his shoulders while Zhongli unlocks the door to the room. Once the door unlocks, Zhongli and Neuvillette step into the room. Neuvillette closes the door with his foot and locks the door without looking. You lay limp over Neuvillette’s shoulders. A wave of embarrassment washes over you when you feel how soaked your panties are.

Neuvillette tosses you onto the bed, making you bounce. You scan the room of the inn you’re staying at, realizing there’s only one bed in the room. Now that you think about it, Zhongli didn’t hand an extra key for another room at the inn. It seems like Zhongli never booked extra rooms— the three of you are going to sleep in the same bed for the night at the inn.

You prop yourself up on the bed, gazing at both men with wide eyes after seeing that they have removed their coats and are in the process of taking their gloves off and rolling their sleeves up to their elbows. 

“What has gotten into you two? You two are acting like you’re in a rut!” You squeak.

Neuvillette chuckles, shaking his head. “There’s nothing to worry about, dearest. Are we, your lovers, not allowed to savor this moment between us?” Neuvillette asks.

You warily look at Neuvillette. “I’m not against having intimate moments with both of you, but you two are acting strange,” you murmur. “It’s not like you two to display such affection in public. I am not against it, but you two are usually composed.”

Zhongli clears his throat, unbuttoning his shirt to expose his bare chest. “Forgive me, my dear. The perfume you have on is quite intoxicating. I cannot help but feel like I’m under a spell when I catch a whiff of the fragrance,” Zhongli says, now standing at the edge of the bed.

Zhongli rests one knee on the bed before grabbing you by the ankles. Without warning, Zhongli yanks you towards the edge, emitting a surprised squeak from you. Zhongli chuckles and rubs your cheek with his thumb before leaning down to pepper your face with gentle kisses. Zhongli grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours before pressing his lips against yours.

While you and Zhongli kiss, Neuvillette kneels before you and spreads your legs apart. Neuvillette slides his hands underneath the bands of your shorts before roughly tugging them down to your ankles and tossing them behind him. The Chief Justice of Fontaine then loops his index and middle finger around the bands of your panties, sliding them down your legs, gulping at the sight of your dripping entrance.

Neuvillette licks his lips before spreading your legs wider, leans forward, and latches his lips onto your entrance. You break your and Zhongli’s kiss, gasping when you feel Neuvillette’s warm tongue lapping and swirling at your entrance. Zhongli takes that as an opportunity to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. You softly whimper when Neuvillette penetrates your heat with his tongue while pressing his nose against the engorged and throbbing nerve.

Zhongli groans after freeing his throbbing cocks from his underwear. Your eyes grow wide, completely forgetting that Zhongli has more than one cock. Fuck, how could you forget so easily? Wait, if Zhongli has two of them, does that mean Neuvillette also has two cocks? What if he has more than two?

Zhongli taps your lips with the tip of his cock, signaling you to open your mouth. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out. Zhongli slides his cock into your mouth, moaning when the warmth of your mouth engulfs his cock. While sucking Zhongli’s cock, you reach for his second cock and begin pumping it at a steady pace. 

You nearly choke on Zhongli’s dick when you feel something penetrate your wet heat. You turn to see Neuvillette gently sliding his index and middle finger into your entrance, slow enough not to hurt you. He stretches your entrance, making sure you’re ready for what’s to come. Zhongli pushes your head down on his cock, making you swallow more. You wince, nearly gagging. You pause for a moment and close your eyes, trying to collect yourself.

You pull away from Zhongli’s cock before bringing the other one into your mouth to continue where you have left off. Zhongli wipes the stray tear in the corner of your eyes, pressing a kiss on your head as a silent apology for being a teeny bit rough on you. Even though he wasn’t rough on you in the slightest, he didn’t want to cause you any discomfort while doing anything intimate with you.

Neuvillette pulls away from your groin, pulling his fingers out of your entrance. Neuvillette sucks on his soaked fingers, maintaining eye contact with you while your mouth is occupied with sucking Zhongli’s second cock. Neuvillette stands up and unbuckles his belt, unzips his pants, and pulls his pants and underwear down. Unsurprisingly, two cocks spring from the confinement of his pants, slapping his lower abdomen. The mushroom tips of his cock are bright red and leaking with pre-cum. 

Oh, you are not going to make it out alive. Hell, someone’s going to have to carry around Chenyu Vale and back to the abode after today. You subconsciously pull Zhongli’s cock out of your mouth and glance at Zhongli’s cocks, then at Neuvillette’s cocks. Who has bigger dicks between the two of them?

Zhongli raises his eyebrows at you, pulling your hair into a ponytail and tilting your head up. “What are you thinking about?” Zhongli mutters, his voice thick with lust.

You stare at Zhongli, trying to come up with an excuse. Neuvillette chuckles, rubbing his hands on your thighs as he parts your legs. Neuvillette grabs one of his cocks and rubs them against your folds, coating his aching cock with your slick. 

You shake your head, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I wanted to know what’s causing you two to act this way, that’s all,” you finally sputter out an excuse.

Zhongli continues to gaze at you with a raised eyebrow, tapping your bottom lip with the tip of his cock. You reluctantly open your mouth, still hoping that Zhongli bought your poor excuse of a response. While you are curious about what made Zhongli and Neuvillette act so strange, like an animal in a rut, you don’t want the two men to get competitive over who has a bigger package. 

After a few minutes of Neuvillette rubbing his cock between your folds, Neuvillette nudges your entrance with the bulbous tip of his cock. You’re too busy sucking and licking Zhongli’s cock to notice that Neuvillette is about to bury his cock inside you. Without warning, Neuvillette slides his thick cock into your pulsating entrance. The smooth and moist walls of your entrance clenches around Neuvillette’s cock, making him tense and bury his face into your neck, groaning. After Neuvillette is balls deep inside you, he relaxes and reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. 

“You’re very tight; relax for me, dearest,” Neuvillette murmurs into your ears, his chest rapidly rising and falling. 

You whimper, taking Zhongli’s cock out of your mouth while writhing beneath Neuvillette’s body. “It hurts, Neuvillette,” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut as you dig your nails into his back.

Neuvillette kisses the side of your head as he reassures you. Neuvillette reaches down and starts pinching and rubbing your swollen bundle of nerves. You squeeze and pulse around his cock, both legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to you. You and Neuvillette groan when Neuvillette is now buried at the hilt. 

Neuvillette wraps his arms around your waist before pulling you farther up the bed. Neuvillette lays on his back with you lying on top of him. He tangles his fingers in your hair before crashing his lips against yours. While you and Neuvillette are messily making out, Zhongli completely strips off his clothes and comes up behind you.

Zhongli lifts his hand and slaps your right ass cheek, causing you to jolt and break the kiss between you and Neuvillette. Zhongli chuckles and shakes his head, placing both hands on your waist before gently bouncing you on Neuvillette’s cock. You softly moan, slowly riding Neuvillette’s cock with the help of Zhongli. 

Once you’re used to Neuvillette’s size, you start to take over, increasing the speed. Neuvillette wraps one arm around your waist while the other is on your shoulder, forcing you to stay in one place as he pistons his cock into your wet heat. 

Your slick trails down your leg, soaking Neuvillette’s pubic hairs and lap. Neuvillette takes the opportunity to slide his second cock into the same hole, causing you to tense and dig your nails into his shoulders.

Zhongli spreads your ass cheeks and spits. He reaches down and gathers your slick and rubs your ass hole. You knew this day would come, but you didn’t know that it was going to happen today. You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face in Neuvillette’s neck after feeling Zhongli’s cock probing at your ass. 

Zhongli slowly inserts his cock, stretching out your ass. You groan and bite down on Neuvillette’s shoulders, sending shivers down Neuvillette’s spine. As Zhongli continues to slowly sink his cock into your ass, Neuvillette licks your neck and takes a deep whiff of the intoxicating scent of your skin and the perfume. Neuvillette continues to thrust his cocks into your entrance; the sound of skin-to-skin and squelching fills the air, accompanied by occasional moans and whimpers from the three of you.

Zhongli gathers your hair into a ponytail and tilts your head to the side, revealing your neck to him. Zhongli leans down and presses his nose against your neck, taking deep breaths before letting out a breathy moan in your ears. Zhongli squeezes your chest with his unoccupied hand, rutting into your backside.

Zhongli and Neuvillette make eye contact and glare at each other. Zhongli looks away, gritting his teeth while Neuvillette continues to hammer his cocks into your heat. Zhongli stares at your neck for a moment, gradually slowing his pace. 

Should he do it? Zhongli shakes his head, trying to ignore the voices in his head that are trying to convince him to mark you— claim you as his and only his. Zhongli thrusts hard, causing you to jolt forward and moan like an absolute whore. 

“Fuck, Zhongli!” You whine, blindly reaching behind you to grip his bicep.

Fuck it. Zhongli buries his face into your neck and bites down on your neck. Your eyes widen, and you let out a strained gasp, whimpering in pain. Tears pool in your eyes the harder Zhongli bites down on your neck, drawing blood.

Neuvillette glares at Zhongli before mimicking Zhongli’s actions. The Chief Justice of Fontaine gently kisses the other side of your neck before biting your neck just as hard as Zhongli. You wail, thrashing in Zhongli and Neuvillette’s arms as they refuse to let go of your neck. You feel warm liquid gushing from your neck and streaming down your collarbones and chest.

It takes you approximately five minutes to realize that there’s a tight knot forming in your lower abdomen the more Zhongli and Neuvillette continue to piston their two cocks into your holes while biting your neck like a feral animal. Before you know it, the knot in your lower abdomen snaps, sending you into momentary bliss as you cum around Neuvillette’s cocks.

You don’t remember what happens after that. If you have to think hard, you’re certain that Zhongli and Neuvillette switch places to continue to rail you through the night at the inn. Whoever’s in the nearby rooms, you sincerely apologize for causing a disturbance with your two lovers. You really hope you won’t get a complaint letter or call from the innkeeper. 

- Present -

Kazuha waves his hand in front of your face after you blanked out for who knows how long. “Hello? Are you still here with us?” Kazuha teasingly asks, chuckling.

You snap out of your thoughts and clear your throat, looking away. There’s no way in hell you’re telling them the truth about how you got the bite marks on your neck. Albedo and Baizhu nudge the others away from you to give them room to inspect the bite marks on your neck. Baizhu sighs and tilts your head side to side to get a better look while Changsheng scrutinizes you— oh, the snake knows the perpetrators. You give the snake a pleading look, hoping she won’t rat Neuvillette and Zhongli out.

Changsheng shakes her head with disapproval. “It’ssss quite obvioussss how [Y/N] received thosssse markssss on their neck,” Changsheng says, twisting her head to glance over at Neuvillette and Zhongli, narrowing her eyes at them.

“Oh? And who do you think it could be, Changsheng?” Lyney asks, raising his eyebrows at the white snake draping over Baizhu’s shoulders with interest and curiosity. 

You contemplate whether you should lunge at Changsheng to keep her mouth shut, but you decide not to do it because you know that will make you look suspicious— well, even more suspicious than you already seem. Albedo hums, cleaning the bite marks on your neck before briefly pausing.

You look at Albedo, worried, “What’s with that look on your face?”

Albedo chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s nothing to worry about, [Y/N]. But the bite marks around your neck should be healed within a few days to a week. Depending on how deep the bites are, it could take up to almost a month for it to be healed,” Albedo says, handing the white gauze to Baizhu.

You’re not entirely sure if the bites will heal because when you glanced in the mirror, the bite marks were glowing. Even though the ache didn’t last as long, it does ache a lot— probably not as much as yesterday, but it’s aching. 

“The two of you bit [Y/N], didn’t you?” Wriothesley asks, raising his eyebrows at Zhongli and Neuvillette, the corner of his lips quirking up.

Neuvillette clears his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. “I would do no such thing,” Neuvillette replies.

Everyone in the room raises their eyebrows at the Chief Justice of Fontaine, not believing his response. Zhongli, on the other hand, sighs and chooses not to reply to Wriothesley’s comment. Despite choosing to stay silent, the red ears and cheekbones say another.

Childe pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, glaring at Zhongli and Neuvillette, steam practically coming from his ears. You shut your eyes, hoping no one will start a fight after discovering who marked you.

“I can’t believe you two marked [Y/N] before I did!” Childe exclaims. “I should be the first one to do it, not you two!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, temples beginning to throb as more people start to shout in agreement. Great, now your body is going to be littered with marks from these men. It’s not like you mind it… you’re just worried about who will try to make theirs more prominent for other people to see. You peek at Zhongli and Neuvillette, only to see them subtly smile at each other. Your mouth is agape after realization dawns on you. 

They planned this entire thing.

Note: I understand that Neuvillette is probably not older than Teyvat like Zhongli, but for the sake of this fic, he is now. Wow, this is the final fanfic of the year and the first smut in forever. My goal for 2025 is to hopefully write and post more fanfics! And catch up with Genshin and HSR quests. The next fanfic I will be posting after this one is a Love&Deepspace one! Oh! Before I reopen my Discord server, I am looking for new moderators for my server! So, if you are interested in being a moderator for my server, here is the link to the form [HERE]! The deadline is January 7th, 2025! ^^ If you are chosen, I or one of my moderators will contact you through either Tumblr, Discord, or AO3 before the server is reopened! Anyway, To all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist: @uniquecutie-puffs, @rubyninja1, @loveariel

Read more of my works on my Grand Masterlist, which contains every masterlist I have created! | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories there, too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^