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magicalbats · 8 months ago

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Kinktober 2024 Day 12: Harbingers x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 7456

Warnings: Afab!reader, Traveler!reader, noncon, orgy, bondage, sensory deprivation, vaginal fingering, piv, squirting, brief pelvic exam, whatever is going on between Childe and the reader

A/N: I decided to keep this one to just the Harbingers I was familiar enough with so Scaramouche, Childe, Arlecchino, Dottore, Pantalone and Capitano are featured. Six people definitely make for an orgy, right? Right. But a fair warning for the Capitano fans , after taking what I currently know of him into account he ended up largely being a bystander for most of this until the end so I just wanted to be clear on that expectation going into this. I still haven't gotten around to the 5.1 Archon Quest yet 🙈

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The Balladeer is not gentle about the way he steers you down the chilly hall, his grip on your upper arm pinching and tight even through the heavy coat he’d thrown over you to ensure you didn’t succumb to frostbite. You were grateful for that small act of kindness from him since it was the only thing you’d been left with other than your boots, but you were still freezing underneath all that excess of fabric and fur. Hardly any surprise there. Snezhnaya was even more frigid and inhospitable than you’d expected it to be.

As to why he’d stripped you bare, you had no idea. After capturing you inside the old, decrepit Inazuman mansion where the Fatui were operating their Delusion factory out of, he’d kept such a close eye on you that you never would have had the chance to retaliate or escape even if you’d wanted to try. And you did. More than anything else, you wanted to flee from him and return back to the island nation so you could search for Paimon. She was the second person you’d been forcibly separated from in Teyvat and that knowledge stings more than you would have expected it to. You just hoped she was alright, wherever she was.

But as soon as you’d reached the Snezhnayan border, Scaramouche had taken the time to relieve you of all your clothes before replacing them with the heavy cloak you were currently bundled in. Initially you’d assumed he was going to do something truly heinous and disgusting to you but, to your ever growing uncertainty, he’d left you alone after that. You were inclined to think it was just some sort of foul humiliation tactic meant to further solidify your position as a captive and discourage any thoughts you might still harbor about escaping. It was clear that the coat wouldn’t save you indefinitely out in this harsh environment.

Now you’re not so sure though. He’d relentlessly dragged you all the way here from Inazuma, hardly even stopping long enough to let you rest or eat along the way, and had barely spoken more than five words to you over the long journey. And he was clearly proud of himself for capturing you. That was easy enough to see at just a glance, yet he hadn’t gloated about it or dangled it over your head. It seemed more likely that he had an objective in bringing you here like this, in such a vulnerable state of helpless undress, and you were understandably nervous of what awaited you in this magnificent yet eerily cold and silent palace.

“Relax.” He snaps at you when you start to drag your feet, roughly yanking on your arm to keep you in line. “We’re almost there.”

Stumbling alongside him, you have no choice but to comply. You were regretfully powerless to do anything about it when your wrists were tied behind your back with a thick knot of unbudging rope and you can’t even complain about it either. Effectively gagged to silence with the uncomfortable bit of bamboo he’d wedged in your mouth, all you can do is impotently hiss around it as he pulls you along.

Finally you reach the end of the corridor where he leads you straight up to the imposing set of massive, intricately carved double doors that loom up out of the dreary darkness at you. They almost look like something a giant would have used rather than any mortal person and you anxiously wrench back on his hold in an attempt to stop him from taking you any further. Somehow you got the sense you weren’t going to like what awaited you on the other side.

It doesn’t work though, of course, and Scaramouche easily keeps his bruising grip on your arm as he reaches for the smaller, more human looking door built into the impressive structure. The hinges give a vaguely ominous creak when it swings open to grant the two of you entry but he doesn’t even give you a chance to fight it before you’re tripping through the entryway under his guidance.

You immediately understand that your intuition was correct and you were right to fear what was inside as soon as your eyes land on the long, ceremonious table situated within, and Childe promptly shoots up out of his seat at your sudden appearance.

“Traveler?”

Noising a wordless exclamation at him, you swing your attention around at the rest of the room's occupants. You didn’t know any of the other Harbingers by their looks alone but you could probably guess at some of their identities based on the brief descriptions the Eleventh had given you back in Liyue.

The one with the beaked mask was probably The Doctor and based on the chilly, disinterested look she sends you you’d wager the woman was probably The Knave. You’re not sure about the bespectacled man with dark hair or the toweringly large one with his face covered, but it was probably safe to say that they were just as dangerous as Childe had said they all were.

Your skin nervously prickles as you break out in an ice cold sweat, jerking your attention back and forth over the assembled faces. Where was Signora?

“You really did it,” The beak masked one marvels, sounding really quite pleased by this development. “And the gnosis?”

“Our Fair Lady is taking care of it.” Scaramouche says, making you snap your head around to look at him in surprise. Glancing over at you at the sudden movement, he studies your face for a short beat before he allows his mouth to curl in a mean, haughty little smirk. “Oh, did you not realize she was in Inazuma too? After already running into her twice before you really should have expected as much, right?”

You squawk at him through the gag but there’s too much happening in the room all at once as people start to stand up from their seats for him to pay it any mind.

Swinging his attention back around, Scaramouche looks down the length of his nose at his fellow Harbinger’s like a powerful king might regard his lesser peons. That manages to impress you somewhat, given his ranking as only the Sixth. “Where are the Tsaritsa and the others? I’ve brought back a souvenir for us all to share.”

“Her Majesty is not in the mood to see anyone today.” The imposingly tall man in the mask says, unfolding himself from his chair to rise. Your eyes widen slightly when you realize how much bigger he actually is than the rest of them, but then you register that Childe is coming towards you and he manages to successfully distract your attention from the others.

“What happened to you?” He murmurs as both of his gloved hands reach out to cradle your cheeks between the gloved palms. You’re almost floored by how tenderly he tips your face up at him, looking you over with those depthless blue eyes, but all you can respond with is a weak little mewl through the gag.

It was making your jaw hurt something fierce, unseemly drool threatening to escape from the corners of your stuffed lips. You prayed he at least would be kind enough to take it out of your mouth for you but he doesn’t get the chance.

Aggressively yanking on your arm, Scaramouche pulls you away from Childe so hard you nearly stumble right into him but you manage to catch your balance just in time to watch the taller ginger round on him with a snarl. Surely they weren’t going to come to blows fighting over you … right?

“What do you think you’re doing? Explain yourself, Balladeer. Now.”

“Please. Spare me your weak sentimentality, Tartaglia. It’s enough to make me wretch. The Traveler is my prisoner and I get to decide what happens to her, at least until the Tsaritsa issues her final verdict for her crimes. But until then, I call the shots. Not you.”

“Bastard - -“

“Boys.” The only other woman in the room calls over, drawing your gaze to find she’s also stood up and come around the table to lean against it with her arms crossed. Lifting a somewhat sardonic brow at you, she condescendingly tips her head to one side. “I believe The Balladeer is correct. He captured our little guest which makes her his prisoner. It is not our place to question how any in our ranks accomplishes their goals.”

“That’s hardly the point, Arlecchino!” Childe insists, confirming that you had indeed guessed her identity correctly. “Prisoner or not, she’s - -“

“In safe hands, I’m sure.” The Doctor throws in with a smug, simpering smirk under his mask. “Her Majesty the Tsaritsa only said not to kill her. She never said anything about not being permitted to … play with her a little bit. Don’t you think this is an ample opportunity for us to properly introduce ourselves, Regrator?”

You follow the direction he glances in to see that he’s talking to the one with glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. So that was Pantalone, then.

Huffing and puffing his frustration with all of them, Childe disbelievingly glances around at the assembled Harbingers as if he couldn’t quite believe what they were suggesting. It’s not hard to see he’s the closest thing you have to an ally here, but he was only one in a group of six and the youngest among them at that. There was no way he’d be able to save you from your ultimate fate unless he wanted to take everyone on by himself.

And given the way his hands clench into tight, angry fists at his sides, you’re not so sure he won’t do it.

“And what exactly are you proposing we do with her?” Arlecchino finally hedges, ignoring the murmurs of rising discourse from her colleagues in favor of getting straight to the point of the matter.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Scaramouche clicks his tongue in annoyance as he jostles you forward to stand just in front of him. “We’ve got a point to make now that we have her so why pretend otherwise? None of you are good people so don’t kid yourselves into believing otherwise. Yes, that includes you, Tartaglia.”

Your wide, panicked eyes flicker in his direction to find Childe opening his mouth to snap at the puppet, his body so stiff and tightly braced that you think he might really launch himself in attack. He never gets a chance to follow through on it though as Scaramouche’s unoccupied hand comes up to grab a fistful of your cloak and yank it open with a violent jerk.

All at once your bare body is assaulted with a sudden, merciless rush of cold air, and you squeak a horrified sound around the gag as you jerk in alarm. Your nipples were already stiff and achingly pointed coils, and they just tighten even more against the wafting air to make you tremble a sensitive shudder. Whatever Childe had been about to say dies in his throat, choking on it when his mouth drops open in genuine shock. It’s like he truly couldn’t believe what he was seeing and you whimper a flustered sound at him, pleading for him to help you.

“Don’t even think about it.” Scaramouche viciously hisses behind you, though you can’t quite tell if he’d aimed that at you or his colleague. But it doesn’t really matter either way, because he just shoves you forward to steer you towards the table without giving anyone a chance to say anything more about it.

Openly blinking at the fleshy bounce of your naked tits, Arlecchino slowly unfolds her arms and steps aside to allow The Balladeer room to shove you up against the side of the table. You wildly kick and flail, struggling against the rope keeping your arms bound behind you with every ounce of strength you have left, but it’s no use. After a perfunctory fight for leverage, he manages to get you hauled up on the table and flipped over where he roughly pins you down by the shoulders.

Raggedly panting through your nose now, you peer up into Scaramouche’s leering face. The distant prickle of frightened tears registers somewhere far in the back of your mind but you valiantly force them back, knowing good and well that such display of weakness wouldn’t do you any good here. Not in this particular crowd. Not with these people, and you merely hiss like an incensed cat as you try to squirm free of his hold.

“Mmffh!”

“That’s it, Traveler. Keep struggling. I’m sure that’ll just excite some of us even more.” The Sixth croons at you, laughing a silken, throaty sound under his breath as he crawls all the way up to fully straddle you.

For a split second you can make out a commotion rising up behind him but it’s quickly subdued, and Arlecchino’s soft spoken voice filters through the oppressive atmosphere immediately after. She must be talking to Childe, you think. No doubt trying to talk some reason into him even though he was the only other reasonable person here besides you right now.

Unfortunately you don’t get to linger on that thought for very long because a gloved hand reaching into your space catches your attention, and you squeak a terrified sound as you tip your head back to follow that arm up to its owner. Somehow you’re not particularly surprised to find it’s The Doctor curling his fingers around the meat of your tit to give it a consideringly tight squeeze, making you whimper at the sharp discomfort. He just chuckles a low laugh though, clearly amused by the flash of pain that crosses your face, and he quickly does it again.

“Fret not, little Traveler. If Tartaglia wants you so bad then we’ll be happy to give you to him. After we’ve finished playing with you first, of course.”

“I didn’t take you for the sort, Dottore. Your interests always seemed to lean more towards that of machine than the comfort of human women.” The exceptionally tall one comments in a rather offhand manner considering what was happening right in front of him.

“Oh, but you wound me, Captain. I’m always a scientist first and foremost before anything else, and I’m quite curious to find out how human this one really is.”

You noise an equally confused and startled sound at that, brows furrowing up at his awful beaked mask. If Scaramouche hadn’t been pinning you down with the full brunt of his weight, you would have happily flung your foot through the air to kick him right in his smug face and you would have taken a great deal of satisfaction in doing so. Something told you he probably deserved it more than anyone else here.

But then the sensation of another hand slipping over the opposite side of your chest startles you back into the present, and you glance over to find Pantalone gently groping at the weight of your breast. At your helpless wail through the gag, he just smiles a deceptively saccharine look at you, head tipping to one side almost inquisitively.

“It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you, you know. I’ve heard so many good things about you but I wasn’t expecting such a formidable swordswoman to be quite this pretty. You’re a lovely little thing, aren’t you?”

Working his fingers a bit higher, Pantalone rather unceremoniously grabs hold of your pebbled nipple to give it a thoughtful tug. The immediate burst of sharp, hyper sensitive sensation makes you twist on top of the table but it’s no use. They’ve got you so thoroughly pinned down and trapped between them that no amount of effort on your part was going to get you out of this. Your only hope was Childe and he’d gone mysteriously quiet wherever he was in the room, if he was even still here at all.

The thought that he might have left you to the wolves scares you more than it has any right to, and you try to call out to him through the bamboo gag. This, too, is an effort in futility though. Even you’re not quite sure what you’re attempting to say.

Humming a thoughtful sound, Dottore gives your aching tit one last, lingering squeeze before dragging his hand further down your body. Your stomach wildly flexes under his palm, fast pumping fear making you inch dangerously close to full on panic, but he just keeps going. Lower and lower.

Scaramouche is quick to take his empty spot and, leaving his hands pressed into your shoulders to keep you down, he bends his head over your chest to take that abandoned nipple in his mouth. You outright jolt at the sensation and suck in a startled breath but there’s too much happening all at once for you to focus on any one thing. It’s hard to say if you should be more concerned about the Sixth Harbinger enthusiastically suckling at your sore teat or the way Pantalone is insistently tugging on the other to stretch the pliant skin.

Even worse is the vague sense you get of Dottore stepping into the space at the bottom of the table where he rather forcefully shoves your legs apart in a wide spread. Your cunt is the only part of your chilled body that feels in any way warm at this point, but that natural heat seems to quickly leave you without the press of your thighs there to keep it in. The end result makes the fleshy seam feel indescribably bare and exposed in a way you’d never known before, like you were overly aware of every tiny little sensation that courses through it, and you wildly buck underneath Scaramouche in an attempt to dislodge him.

“Keep her still, won’t you?” The Doctor coos as one of his gloved hands slides inward to lightly tease over your pussy. “I’d like to find out what sort of state her reproductive organs are in.”

You squawk a startled sound at that but Pantalone just tweaks your poor nipple harder for it.

“Now, now,” He murmurs in that liltingly soft voice. “If you don’t behave yourself, we’ll have to resort to doing something that will make you feel a bit more inclined to cooperate. Surely you don’t want it to come to that, do you?”

The pointed, deliberate way he pinches down on the teat between his fingers makes your stomach twist itself into knots for reasons you can’t quite explain. Despite his arguably polite and handsome facade, you suspected he was just as dangerous as Dottore probably was. It wouldn’t be smart to test your luck with either of them.

So you simply lie there and take it, wincing as The Doctor sedately works your cunt lips open and slips two long digits in to apply pressure just at your entrance. You let out a smothered cry when your body tries to reject him, not even close to being excited enough to make the penetration smooth and easy. But he simply keeps pushing in on that vulnerable spot until he can slowly inch his way into you down to the knuckle. It’s uncomfortable and borderline painful, especially with the material of his glove adding another layer of friction that didn’t need to be there, but he doesn’t care. None of them do, except maybe Childe, and all you can do is noise a shrill sound around the bamboo when Scaramouche suddenly bites down on your nipple none too gently.

And to think he’d had you completely at his mercy this entire time but decided to hold off until he could really humiliate you and drive the point home with the other Harbingers. It was astoundingly petty of him.

“There, that’s a good girl.” Dottore croons at you as if you were nothing more than a dog for him to bring to heel in his eyes. It’s an impression he only further solidifies when he gives your tender inner thigh a series of companionable pats before taking that hand and sliding it up to brace along your lower stomach. “You might feel some pressure but it’s nothing to worry about. Take a deep breath now …”

He starts to push down then, surprising an undignified squawk out of you as he presses right in on your uterus. At the same time he angles the fingers in you upward to feel along your inner sleeve and gently massage against you, alarming you even more when you feel your cunt reluctantly respond to the clinical stimulation. It feels like your heart is going to jackhammer right out of your chest as you stiffly writhe against the top of the table, struggling just to keep drawing oxygen into your lungs while he rudely violates you like that.

“Hmm. Everything certainly seems to be in order. I suppose you really are just a girl after all. Lucky you.”

“Isn’t that good news?” Pantalone teases you, tauntingly walking his fingers down the length of your shuddering body to crowd in next to Dottore’s between your thighs. “The Doctor has given you a clean bill of health, which means we can play as much as you’d like.”

You give your head a terse shake, trying to tell him you didn’t want to play at all. But of course he doesn’t listen, slyly curling his fingers inward to lightly rub over your clit and help Dottore in his effort of turning your own body against you. The two of them work in shockingly perfect tandem with one another, almost like they’ve done this before. While one thrusts in and out of your cunt to encourage the production of sticky slick, the other caresses over that sensitive pleasure button to ensure you were feeling just good enough to help the process along. It was insidious and cruel.

Not nearly as cruel as the way Scaramouche can’t seem to detach himself from your aching breasts though, and now that Pantalone has vacated his spot he quickly redirects his mouth to slurp on the opposite nipple instead. Except it’s already so raw and sensitized from the bespectacled man’s merciless tugging and pinching that the puppets mouth shocks a ragged gasp out of you.

Your head spins wildly from the total onslaught of stimulation as you blindly kick your legs in a desperate bid to at least push Dottore away enough to give your pussy a short reprieve. But he’s situated too firmly in the space between your legs for you to budge him from this angle, and the heel of your boot just harmlessly slides right off his hip.

Clearly realizing what you’re trying to do, Pantalone reaches down to hook his free hand in the bend of one knee and tug it out the side so you wouldn’t be able to find enough leverage or try to close your thighs from The Doctor’s concentrated attack. The sound of your cunt wetly clicking under the vigorous force of his hand seems to echo endlessly in the space between your ears and you valiantly try to fight it when the internal pressure steadily builds under his ministrations.

There’s nothing you could do to stop it though when Dottore seemed to know exactly where to jab his fingers at inside your body, making your pussy scream in agony at the rough treatment. But against all odds you suddenly feel the dam break and your cunt let’s down under the insistent pressure, spraying slick all over his wrist and along your shuddering inner thighs. Outright wailing in horror, you mindlessly renew your effort to thrash yourself free but, still, it’s no use.

You were completely, utterly trapped.

“That’s a good girl, Traveler. Such a sweet, obedient little cunt you have.” Dottore croons at you, his voice laced with sharp edged malice. “I haven’t had need of a woman in at least two-hundred years now, but for you I think I’ll make an exception.”

“Wait.”

You startle at the sound of Arlecchino’s voice coming from right beside you, blearily glancing up to find her standing just next to your head. Somehow you’d almost forgotten she was there at all.

“Wait for what?” The Doctor impatiently snaps at her.

“Let Childe have her first. He’s the youngest so it doesn’t seem very polite to make him wait until after you’ve already used her up, and … he’s still not particularly happy about what’s happening anyway. It should make him feel better if he understands what we’re doing to her.”

A faint growl rises from Scaramouche when he finally brings his head up from your aching chest, leaving the nipples feeling flushed and raw in the wake of his mouth. “Watch it, Knave. I thought we already agreed she’s my prisoner.”

“No one is disputing that, Balladeer. I’m only suggesting what I think will benefit us the most. Besides,” Cooly dragging her gaze over to regard you, she studies your frazzled, wide eyed expression for a short moment. “I suspect she will appreciate that consideration as well. After all, their rapport with one another is a fascinating development that I don’t think any of us saw coming. It only makes sense to capitalize on it, no?”

Scaramouche draws a quick breath to snap back with something no doubt sharp and biting, but Dottore cuts him off with an abrupt laugh.

“She's right, puppet. This should at the very least be an interesting show to watch.” Abruptly slipping his fingers out of you with a tiny wet slurp to leave your pussy weakly contracting around nothing, The Doctor steps to the side to presumably make room for the Eleventh Harbinger. “Go on then, Tartaglia. I’ve already got her warmed up for you. Surely at your age you don’t need any instruction on how to fuck a woman, do you?”

You can’t quite make out what’s happening behind Scaramouche aside from a briefly heated exchange that makes you foolishly hope he won’t go through with it. Childe could still put a stop to this if he just didn’t give in to Dottore’s jeering peer pressure and instead used his brain to think of a way to get you out of here.

But when The Balladeer pushes up to sit on top of you, throwing a vaguely disgusted scoff over his shoulder before he grudgingly moves to climb down, you implicitly understand that this is not going to work out as you’d hoped it would. He would have no reason to dismount otherwise when he’d seemed perfectly content nuzzling into your breasts like little more than a newborn.

Sure enough, once everyone has moved aside enough for you to lift your head and glance down at the foot of the table, you find Childe standing there with a truly tortured look marring his youthful face. He’s visibly torn and conflicted about the situation, whatever feelings he had for you clashing with his duty as a Fatui Harbinger. You had no idea what Arlecchino had said to him but it must have been sufficiently convincing if he was even considering this.

“Mmffhh! Mmm mmnngghh!”

Slowly lifting his head at your wordless cries, Childe looks down at you with a truly regretful frown tugging at his expression. And for a drawn out moment he just stares at you, spread out on the table completely naked save the tall boots on your feet and the heavy cloak spread out underneath you. It was something you probably would have been happy to show him under better circumstances, but better circumstances would not have found five of his peers standing around you in a loose circle watching on in rapt, fascinated silence.

It was enough to make anyone cry, and you sniffle rather sadly when he at last gives his head a solemn shake.

“I’m sorry, Traveler. If you hadn’t been caught … if you hadn’t let Scaramouche defeat you and take you prisoner we wouldn’t have to do this. But you’re a threat to our plans only as long as you can back it up, so we have to show you just how powerless you really are.”

As if you really needed to have that demonstrated to you like this!

Indignantly squawking, you try to push yourself upright to sit but Arlecchino is quick to grab your shoulder with a clawed hand and shove you back down. Even realizing for the upteenth time that you were thoroughly at their mercy like this, you still weakly kick your legs in the air in an attempt to dissuade anyone from slipping between them again.

But Childe just shuffles forward to grab your ankles easily enough despite the flailing, forcing them to bend towards your chest as he steps right up against you. The front of his pants presses into your bare cunt like this and you immediately squeal at the weight of him pushing in on your body. For a split second you almost don’t believe it. That he would really get this achingly stiff from watching you be defiled by other men, but he was young and hot blooded enough that it made a certain amount of sense. Of course the fight to subdue and dominate would get him worked up.

“Mmffhhh!”

“Shh, shh. Just relax, Traveler. I promise I won’t hurt you, okay?”

That hardly makes you feel any better as you screw your eyes shut and turn your head away so you don’t have to watch Childe reach down to free himself from his slacks. In truth, you would have otherwise been happy to sleep with him but not like this. Just not like this!

“Oh, isn’t that cute.” Pantalone purrs from somewhere just to your left, chuckling a soft laugh under his breath. “I think our little guest is getting emotional now.”

“As expected.” Dottore agrees with him, also laughing at your expense.

“Here.” Arlecchino suddenly says, prompting you to blink through the rising sting of tears at her. You’re more than slightly taken aback to find her holding a long, dark strip of cloth in front of your face and you whimper up at her in question. “This should help. Deep breaths now, sweet dove. That’s it. Just relax.”

You realize she’s going to blindfold you as she starts to bring it closer but there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop it, mewling a helpless sound while she works to tie it off at the back of your head. With the loss of your eyesight comes an even greater perception of your hearing and you listen to Childe fumble between your legs as your neck lolls back against the table. There was certainly comfort to be found in the impenetrable darkness but it doesn’t do much to ease the nausea inducing anxiety in your gut. In fact, it actually seems to make it worse.

But you don’t even have the ability to tell her you don’t want it when your mouth is still thoroughly gagged, and you pitifully jump when Childe finally reaches down to take hold of your hips. Dragging you closer to the edge of the table, he takes a moment to press his cock into the seam of your body again, this time without anything standing in the way, and he just basks in the sticky heat coming off you for a drawn out beat.

You understand in a far off, dreamy sort of way that this was really going to happen and your powerlessness to stop it soon has the tears breaking free to soak into the cloth around your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Traveler.” He says again, one last time before the fleshy drag of his cock head angles down to your entrance where he slowly starts to push in.

You plaintively squawk at the pressure on your already sore and abused cunt, fiercely shuddering underneath him as he leans his weight into you to help ease himself inside. The worst part is that he’s far from small and he stretches you out even more than Dottore’s fingers had, but at least he’s gentle about it where The Doctor certainly had not been. It’s a small consolation in this nightmarish scenario, and even for as much as you appreciate it you can’t quite seem to stop your chest from frantically heaving with the labored gasps you suck in through your nose.

And he sensitively groans over you, clearly trying to stifle the sound but your enhanced hearing picks up on it anyway. You didn’t doubt his feelings on the matter were not dissimilar to yours, yet he doesn’t stop. He just keeps reaching deeper and deeper into your body until he at last settles his pelvis against yours with a rattling breath and you positively squirm where he’s got you impaled on him. Your arms were already long numb from laying on top of them for so long with the circulation to your hands impeded by the too tight rope, but they still scream in protest at your restless fidgeting.

“Burn everything, that’s a tight fit.” Childe murmurs, breathless and stretched thin.

He stiffly hovers you for another moment, no doubt trying to find his bearings, which you were admittedly glad for the chance it gives your pussy to adjust to his size. But then, he’s moving against you, experimentally rolling his hips at first and that quickly turns into a halting, unevenly cantered thrusting motion that makes your tits start to bounce with the force. The sensation of your painfully stiff nipples cutting through the air is a stark one, prompting you to dramatically arch your back in a vain bid to stop them from moving so much.

It fails, of course, and you hear Scaramouche suck in a faint breath that he doesn’t actually need from the right side of the softly creaking table. You weren’t entirely sure what his fascination with your tits was about, but you weren’t convinced it was anything good.

“She likes it.” The Captain announces rather abruptly, reminding you that he was standing off to the back of the gathered assembly to disinterestedly watch the proceedings. You can’t help thinking that was probably for the best, as you really did not want to find out how big someone of his size was firsthand.

Worst of all, you were ashamed to admit that he was right. Despite all the rough treatment and the less than ideal circumstances, your pussy was indeed warming up to the stretch of Childe’s cock inside you, and tingly little sparks of pleasurable friction were beginning to light up all of the nerve endings in a potent rush. Oh, this could not be happening right now.

“I think she’d like it more if you put your back into it.” Dottore drawls, adding his two mora even though no one had asked him. Of everyone here, you found him to be perhaps the most insufferable of all.

Grunting a masculine sound, Childe distractedly shifts against you to presumably glance over at The Doctor. “Hey, this isn’t supposed to be a spectator sport, you know. If I’d wanted your — ooughn, your commentary, I would have said so.”

“Well, I for one think you’re doing a spectacular job.” Pantalone chimes in, the condescending note in his otherwise pleasant voice making a self conscious shudder work down your spine.

“Damn. Just be quiet! All of you.” Hunching further over your prone frame, Childe wraps his fingers around your ribcage so he can nudge you down to meet the rhythmic push of his narrow hips. It hadn’t taken him long to fall into a natural, even paced tempo that makes the meaty smack of his skin colliding with yours ring loud in the room.

You can also pick up the sticky clicks coming from your cunt each time he drives into you, carving out a space for himself and forcing your squeezing cunt to take him, again and again. It’s humiliating to realize just how wet you were getting, all the more so when you knew at least half of it was because of that damned Doctor.

For better or worse Childe doesn’t seem to take any offense, or at least his body doesn’t, and he quickly begins to lose himself in the tight clutch between your legs. The initially tentative thrusts turn quick and desperate, his hips taking over for his higher functioning mind to instinctively guide him towards the finish line. You can tell, just as the others likely can, that he’s not very experienced when it comes to this particular activity, and you almost find yourself feeling thankful for that when his hushed grunts soon take on a dire tinge. This part of your humiliation at least would be over sooner rather than later.

“How cute.” The Balladeer snips, clearly unimpressed with the effort of his colleague but Childe deliberately ignores him.

He’s much too caught up in chasing his release now to pay them any mind, your breath hitching in your throat when his fingers start to subconsciously dig deeper into your sides. He was getting close and, you were beyond mortified to realize, your own arousal was steadily ratcheting up as well to nearly keep pace with his. The tension in your guts was tortuous but you don’t quite make it to the breaking point before he heaves a sensitive sound and yanks himself back, once again leaving your pussy to impotently squeeze around nothing.

You can tell by the sharp, seething hiss he lets out that he’s cumming — probably straight into his waiting hand, if you had to guess — and a dizzying rush of numb relief immediately crashes over you. At least you probably didn’t have to worry about him getting you pregnant. Aside from Pantalone you weren’t so sure about the others, if they even had seed that could take in your womb, but you were glad for Childe’s foresight on the matter all the same. It seemed he still cared about you on some level.

“Bah!” Dottore suddenly exclaims, making you jolt in surprise. “Get out of the way, Tartaglia. I should have known better than to leave this to you. What’s the point in it if you don’t even leave your mark on her?”

A brief shuffle of bodies starts up by your feet, the two of them no doubt trading places again, but you’re distracted by a pair of hands carefully touching your head. You give a fearful little start only to realize it must be Arlecchino, given the sharp claws, and you whimper a soft sound when she nudges your neck up to get at the tie keeping your gag in place. It takes you a prolonged moment to understand that she’s going to remove it from your mouth, your heart galloping out of control as you suck in a harried breath.

Thank the stars! Your jaw felt like it would never work right again after being wedged open for so long.

“Watch and learn, boy.” The Doctor says ruefully from somewhere down by the foot of the table but you hardly have the presence of mind to focus on him right now.

The strip of bamboo finally loosens and you weakly work to spit it out as Arlecchino reaches around to pluck it from between your swollen lips. You suck in your first real, full breath of air in a very long time when she pulls it away, feeling dizzy and more than a little nauseous from the head rush.

You’re still gingerly working your jaw to try and restore some of the feeling to the numb joints when she carefully angles your head back against the solid wood, holding you in place as if to make sure you can’t escape.

“Wha -“

She’s suddenly kissing you, smothering your mouth with hers to swallow the squawk of surprise you let out. There was some part of you that has assumed she wouldn’t touch you, either by virtue of not being attracted to another woman or because she would have no need for the boys’ leftovers once they were through, but she’s managed to successfully catch you off guard.

Perhaps even more concerning is the fact you slowly start to kiss her back, coaxed into it by the steady, demanding push and pull of her painted lips. There’s something in the way she works her mouth over yours that begets compliance and you’re hardly in any position to fight it.

Until, that is, you feel Dottore line himself up with your entrance, the fleshy brush of his glans against slick creases and folds causing you to startle. Rattling a vicious sound, you yank your mouth away from Arlecchino’s to turn your face up at The Doctor even though you couldn’t see him through the blindfold. You know he’s there though and that frightens you perhaps more than anything else at the moment, but The Knave merely slides one of her elegant hands forward to wrap it around your neck.

“Little Traveler,” She softly hums at you, giving your throat a brief squeeze. “Are you so frightened of my colleague here that you think you can forget about me?”

You give your head a mute shake, struggling just to keep your lungs expanding as Dottore roughly enters you with a quick snap of his hips that seems to sink him about halfway inside. The only indication you have that he’s not quite finished yet is the rumbling sound he issues before leaning further into you, feeding even more of his cock into your pussy, and you choke at the sensation of being stretched open in a completely different way than before. You didn’t think he was necessarily bigger than Childe, but the shape of him …

“Uwa - aaaah!”

“Hush, girl. This is no way for a warrior to face their enemy in defeat.”

The sound of The Captain’s voice suddenly right beside you alarms you a great deal, and you blindly push back on Arlecchino’s hold with a frantic little sound. Anything but him. Anyone but him!

The Knave firmly keeps you in place though no matter how wildly you try to thrash yourself free, keeping your head slightly elevated while Dottore begins to fuck into you with quick, demanding thrusts that seem to knock something loose within you. Your pussy positively gushes around him, loudly sucking at his length each time he angles his hips back now, but you’re a bit too distracted by the sensation of something massive leaning over you to give him your attention right now.

It must be The Captain getting right up in your face, of that you were almost certain. Oh, how you wished you could see what was going on. But when you try to work your mouth to ask Arlecchino to remove the blindfold, all that comes out are tiny, breathless little moans that Dottore forces up your throat each time he sinks himself in you straight down to the hilt. You couldn’t even get your tongue to formulate a single word now that you were actually capable of speaking. Dammit.

“I expected better from you.” Capitano rumbles, making you uncontrollably shake when you realize he seemed to be hovering mere inches from your nose. What was he — “I usually have no interest or need for such activities, but I can see now that you haven’t been taught this particular lesson yet. You need to learn from a more accomplished warrior before you are set loose again.”

You’re not entirely sure what he’s talking about but then you feel something slimy, long and snake-like reach out to flick over your cheek and you practically wretch in disgust. Was that a tongue?

“Do you understand why I brought you here now, Traveler?” Scaramouche purrs almost directly into your ear, so close you can feel his lips just barely brushing against your skin. You can’t help the gasp you suck in at his unexpectedly close proximity only to immediately choke on it, teeth gnashing when his hand comes up to idly pull at one of your nipples again. He was a relentless thing! “If she doesn’t already, she will soon enough.” Pantalone softly adds to further make your head spin. It seemed like there were too many voices and sounds coming from all around you, your overwhelm only exacerbated by the constant drilling of Dottore’s cock into you. It was too much and you felt like you were going to be sick. “After all, we have to wait for Her Majesty to decide her final verdict so we’ve got plenty of time to ensure she understands. Don’t worry though, Traveler. We’ll make sure to take good care of you while you’re here.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #dottore x reader #pantalone x reader #childe x reader #scaramouche x reader #arlecchino x reader #self insert bullshit #il capitano #il dottore #pantalone #arlecchino #scaramouche

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autumnywinter · 1 year ago

Text

Under His Thumb - Yandere!Pantalone x Reader

The urge to write this bastard man overtook me. Kinda modern au? It's hard for me to write in Genshin's universe. Reader is gender neutral, but does wear skirts/dresses.

This is NSFW. MDNI!

Tags: NSFW, dehumanization, pet kink, yandere, gender neutral reader, AFAB reader, abusive power dynamics

Working for Pantalone was the worst. It was one thing to be another Fatui member or an accountant at Northland Bank, but you were much more intimate on the daily with your boss, all because you were his personal assistant. The role meant you were always around, and often, Pantalone would take you along on his meetings, business trips and trips overseas.

As creepy as your boss was, you did feel a little lucky. There were always worse options after all, like being Dottore's personal assistant. Just the thought made you shudder. At least Pantalone, in some regards, could be kind... somewhat.

Pantalone liked to be in charge, and so he kept you on a very tight leash. He wouldn't even let you walk more than a few feet away from him at any given time when out in public, and was usually glued to your side, his hand holding your waist, or guiding you with a hand on the small of your back. You supposed it was mostly to keep others away, and as possessive as it was, at least it meant Pantalone didn't try anything funny with you.

The man was unbearably wealthy, and looked the part. He had his own tailor and stylists, so you were often shopping with him when he needed new clothing. He'd always get you outfits that ranged from sophisticated to revealing.

"My dear, come out and let me see you," Pantalone said.

You were in a private room of the store, getting changed into new clothes. You took a deep breath, and walked out. It was long and doused in jewels, accentuating your curves. A long slit ran up one leg, giving a nice view of your thigh.

"Perfect. Come here."

You walked over to where your boss was sitting. He didn't hesitate to put his hands on you, feeling up your body. You closed your eyes and grit your teeth. Pantalone was your boss, and although he didn't force you, it wasn't as if you could refuse him either. You couldn't complain.

"You're so beautiful, my dear. This color really compliments you," Pantalone said. Despite his words constantly switching from nonchalant, to threatening, to flirtatious, he always had his same calm expression and tone. Now was no exception. Pantalone dragged his fingers down the slit on the dress, watching his hand slowly reach up your thigh.

You tried your best to not react to his touch, but Pantalone's hand soon reached the apex of your thighs, and he felt you through the dress.

"Oh?" He sounded surprised. "Were you excited by dressing up for me? That's very unprofessional, Y/n." His tone bordered on teasing. It had to be, since he'd be the biggest hypocrite to scold you on professionalism.

"Sorry, sir," was all you could mumble. Pantalone removed his hand, and you took a step back.

"That's enough, we'll be taking this one. Have it wrapped for me," Pantalone told the shop assistant.

You breathed a sigh of relief as the shop assistant helped you change back into your clothes. When you left the room, Pantalone had already paid for the dress, and was waiting for you at the entrance. You trailed behind him as you always did, trying to keep your distance, but not too far where he'd need to reel you back in.

Pantalone walked you both to the limo, and a Fatui guard helped pack up the few other items he purchased today. When you got into the car, Pantalone's hand was immediately on your thigh, and you tensed.

"Sir, not in the car, please," you whispered.

"Then keep quiet."

And you did just that. Pantalone slipped his hand up your skirt, feeling his way to your panties. He pushed them aside, and his fingers started exploring your folds, prodding around for your clit. He didn't have much room to work with, and yet you felt him run circles around your clit. You closed your eyes, trying to find comfort in the leather seat beneath you.

"Spread your legs a little for me," Pantalone whispered. You complied, and you felt him slowly insert a finger inside of you. The position was uncomfortable, but Pantalone's fingers were long and boney, and were able to hit your sensitive spots like nothing else.

Pantalone did not try to be gentle either, and was thrusting his fingers inside of you, curling them and fucking you with them. His other hand was still on your thigh, occasionally gripping it whenever you'd accidentally buck your hips from pleasure. You felt shameful as you continued to allow him to touch you.

You came embarrassingly fast. Your boss tutted. "That didn't take very long, Y/n." He pulled his fingers out of you, and looked at the juices dripping from them. He held his fingers up to your lips. "Open." You took his fingers into your mouth, closing your lips around them and sucking. You tasted yourself, and Pantalone hummed in approval. "Good job." He removed his fingers from your mouth, and put them in his own, cleaning off any traces of your fluids.

The limo finally arrived back at his office in Snezhnaya. Pantalone stepped out first, and you followed. You couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious. Although it was discreet, there was still a wet spot on your skirt.

When you both entered his office, he closed the door behind you.

"On the desk," Pantalone said.

You shivered at his tone. You made your way to his desk, and hopped up on top of it, spreading your legs and hiking up your skirt to give him full access. Pantalone walked towards you, his demeanor cold as ice, yet the lust in his eyes was unmistakable. He rubbed his clothed crotch against you. You felt his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants.

"Undress me."

Of course you were quick to oblige, reaching down and undoing his belt, then his pants. You pulled out his cock, and gave it a few pumps. Pantalone grabbed your wrist.

"Patience, dear, we have plenty of time." He bent you over his desk, pushing some paperwork out of the way, and spreading your legs further apart. You heard him fumbling around in his drawer, then the familiar pop of a bottle of lube opening. Soon his cock was lining up with your hole, and he rubbed it up and down, teasing you. Then he pushed inside you.

Pantalone started with a slow rhythm, but before long he was fucking into you relentlessly. His grip on your waist was bruising, and every few thrusts he would slam inside of you.

"Archons, you're always so tight, Y/n."

His cock brushed your cervix with every thrust, and you were reduced to a moaning mess. You gripped the edge of the desk for support, and he leaned over you, his chest pressed against your back. Pantalone was breathing heavily, and was mumbling things under his breath. You could make out the words 'perfect' and 'mine'. It was his usual spiel, something you never questioned.

Pantalone moved a hand to your breast, and groped it through the fabric of your shirt. You moaned, and he started nipping at the back of your neck, leaving a trail of bite marks that would definitely show tomorrow. His thrusts were starting to grow sloppy, and you knew he was close. You were too.

You came first, a high-pitched moan escaping your lips. Pantalone cursed, and shortly after you felt his hot cum fill you up. He stopped thrusting, but didn't pull out. You felt him still pulsing inside of you, and he was breathing heavily. You allowed yourself to relax underneath him, and you could feel his heart beating through his chest, pressed against your back.

"My darling Y/n," he mumbled. "So good for me." Pantalone was rubbing his hands all over you, almost as if he was trying to calm himself. You were nearly drifting off, but suddenly he was pulling out of you, and you could feel his seed dripping from your hole and down your thighs.

Pantalone quickly fumbled with his pants, zipping them up, then turned you around and laid you on your back on his desk. You looked up at him, dazed.

"So pretty," he muttered. He pursed his lips together. "Every day it gets a little harder to resist." Pantalone was running his fingers up and down your sides. You watched him curiously as he seemed to be deliberating something. Then he dipped down, and caught your lips in a kiss.

It wasn't the first time Pantalone had kissed you, but it wasn't as possessive as it usually was. It was gentle, and almost loving. Your lips moved against his slowly, and you could feel him running a hand through your hair. When he pulled away, you stared at him in shock. Pantalone tilted his head, staring back at you with the same gaze as always.

"I think it's time."

You blinked. "Time for what?"

He smiled softly, and pushed a strand of hair away from your face. "Do you know how frustrating it is to have you so close yet so far from me? To have you be mine in all but name?"

You frowned, your mind slowly piecing things together. "Are you referring to... marriage?"

Pantalone's smile widened. "I want that, yes, but that wasn't exactly what I meant. I want you to simply be more than my personal assistant. I want you to live with me, I want to wake up to you by my side. I wouldn't rush you into marriage right away. You still need to adapt to my lifestyle before anything of that sort is necessary."

The way he brought up the conversation sounded like he was miraculously asking for your consent, but you were quick to realize his kindness was just a show. You heard a click around your neck. It was hard to look down and see what it was, but it felt padded and too large to be one of the many necklaces he had bought you before.

It was a collar.

Your breath hitched in your throat and you were suddenly filled with panic. "Sir... Pantalone..." you stammered. "This is--"

"Dottore helped me make this, although I designed it myself." Pantalone dragged his thumb over the elegant engravings of the collar. "You look quite lovely in it. There's a tracker in here at all times, and if you try to take it off, or step out of range of the tracker, it will send a high voltage electric shock. I'm not cruel, so the shock won't seriously hurt you. But it's enough to incapacitate you. I'd be willing to give you freedom if you wore this at all times."

"Why?" you choked out.

Pantalone raised a brow. "Why? Don't ask such silly questions. I want you to stay safe, and with me." He stepped in closer to you, his eyes wide and the edge of his lips twitching. "It's already taking all my self-control not to drag you to my bedroom and lock you in there. And you'd be able to live out the rest of your days in comfort, surrounded by luxury. But I doubt that's what you want, is it?"

"No," you rasped. You didn't notice how your whole body was shaking.

"As expected. So this is the next best option," Pantalone responded. "But if you'd prefer a third option, I have a lovely cage I can put in my office. It has plenty of room for you to stretch your legs." You looked horrified. "What's with that expression, hm? You're already my pet. You've been my pet for a while now."

His words made your skin crawl. You had overheard a few people referring to you as "Regrator's prized pet". You always dismissed the comments, since they were untrue in your mind. You were Pantalone's personal assistant, and if he got his kicks from using you in an intimate way, that was part of the job too. But this was different. This was dehumanzing in the worst way.

"Of course," Pantalone said, interrupting your thoughts, "it doesn't need to be this way forever. I just need to ensure your loyalty to me."

"How can I be loyal if you're forcing me to?" you snapped.

"Forcing?" Pantalone feigned offense. "Am I not giving you a choice? I believe I've given you multiple. Would you prefer if I passed you down to Dottore? I'm sure he'd love a new experiment. He could make you much more willing, I'm sure."

You tried your best not to grimace. Dottore had the reputation of being the most sadistic Harbinger, and the thought of having to work for him was mortifying.

Pantalone watched as your expression twisted. He smiled again, a ghost of one, and his eyes crinkled slightly. "My dear Y/n, it doesn't need to be so negative. You are mine, yes, but I take care of what is mine. I only want to keep you safe. Nothing will hurt you if you're by my side." He gently rubbed your cheek with his gloved fingers, and you closed your eyes. You tried not to let yourself be fooled by his gentle demeanor.

There was no escaping a man with his power and wealth. It didn't matter what you chose. Pantalone was always going to find a way to get you under his thumb, one way or another. But at least you had some say in this.

"I'll wear the collar."

"I'm glad that's been settled. I'd be more than happy to house you in my room, but I'm patient." He bent down to kiss you again. "I love you, Y/n." I own you.

#yandere #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #yandere pantalone #pantalone #genshin pantalone #genshin impact pantalone #reader insert #pantalone smut #reader imagine #male yandere

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bloodblanks · 1 year ago

Text

the cadence within [il dottore x reader] — prologue.

The quickest way to a man’s heart is through their fourth and fifth ribs. But few men would allow you to just skewer them like that, and Dottore was no exception. So you took the classic route. No, it wasn’t through his stomach; it was through sheer force of charisma alone. However, charisma is shaped like a double edged blade. Pantalone sent you to Dottore’s lab like a flying dagger, and not until it was too late did either of you realize you’d been lodged in his chest.

co-written with noodsies, however, they’re shy and wish to stay anonymous! ♡

author's note: this fanfiction will contain mature content, including explicit sexual acts, violence, dottore himself, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

“Check,” you whispered.

Queen to C6 check, in response to white’s bishop checking on F3. Your D7 pawn guarded your queen, but your bishop was stuck in B8 while his king was vulnerable on A6. His only other piece was a knight on A4.

Did he blunder?

After placing down the chess piece, you glanced back towards him, your eyes searching his face for any readable signs or expressions. There were none, save for the hint of amusement that remained eternally etched into both his features and demeanour.

You mentally sighed. Dottore was as indecipherable as ever, leaving you confused about what to do with the nagging itch that tugged at your heart. You tried to push it aside, to dig a hole and bury the feeling six feet underground where it was never to resurface again, but you found yourself unable to. Instead, you found yourself caving into that emotion, the tension thickening the very air that now felt suffocating to breathe in, each of Dottore’s answers only leaving you with more questions to ask—none of which you should’ve paid any mind to, yet you still couldn't resist, barely holding yourself back from asking the one thing you really wanted to know.

You coughed softly, clearing your throat before speaking again.

“My turn,” you tried to steady your voice and sound as confident as possible, pushing past the dryness in your mouth. “Question nineteen, are you going to continue with your plan?”

It shouldn’t even matter. If you were being rational, you wouldn’t have bothered to ask that; whether or not he planned to continue should not affect your judgement in any way. He had done enough wrong as it is, committed far more crimes than could be excused or remotely justified.

Still, you couldn’t help but succumb to your own weakness, the question leaving your lips alongside a silent prayer that you hadn’t exposed your intentions—be it the one to put an end to him, or the far worse one, the one to give up on your original task. The task you should adhere to, despite your traitorous feelings wanting to get in the way. But you were not strong enough.

Dottore’s silence permitted you to keep ruminating over the same thoughts that had ceaselessly plagued you each time you faced him, the same thoughts that had insidiously grown in intensity throughout your interactions, leaving you to realize far too late that at some point, your actions towards him became genuine.

“Perhaps,” Dottore responded at last. You fought to keep your face neutral, trying your best to mask your disappointment at his answer. As much as you had wanted to, you were unable to deny that you had indeed wanted him to say ‘no.’

As shameful as it was, you pushed for a different answer.

“You’re supposed to answer yes or no,” you stated, keeping your tone light and indifferent.

How ludicrous, you thought. Your job was to pretend to be interested in him, yet here you were, desperately trying to act like you weren’t.

“Unfortunately, Y/N, I can’t do that,” Dottore replied. “The answer is dependent on certain variables.”

“Like what?”

“That’s not a yes or no question.” His face did not betray anything, yet you could hear the smirk in his voice, evident in the satisfaction he spoke with.

“But—”

“—My turn,” Dottore interrupted, and though you wanted to protest, you had to maintain an air of calmness, leaning back in your seat as you waited for him to speak.

“Question nineteen,” Dottore drew out each syllable with emphasis, “you are planning to kill me, aren’t you?”

His sentence caused you to freeze, a chill running down each ridge of your spine as you shivered, goosebumps breaking out over the surface of your skin, your hair standing on end as you stared at him, motionless, eyes wide.

That wasn’t a yes or no question. He knew. Dottore knew.

You didn’t need to see yourself to know that blood had drained from your face. There was no need for you to say anything; even if he hadn’t already known, your expression alone would be enough to confirm that everything he just said was true.

“Go on. Why don’t you answer me?” His voice was sharp enough to cut through the pounding of your heart, the pulsating of the organ reverberating in your eardrums being the only sound to muffle the deafening silence of the room.

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” Dottore continued. Though the syllables reached you, your mind struggled to process the meaning behind them. “Did you think I wouldn’t know?”

Dottore scoffed, indignant.

“I find it rather insulting that you think so lowly of me.”

“N-no,” you scrambled to find the right words. “I don’t—”

“—Is that so?” he said, cutting you off while clicking his tongue in mock disapproval. “Do you have a more plausible explanation for that gun strapped to your thigh, then?”

Your heart sank, his words the anchor that plunged it into the bottomless pit in your stomach. It felt like the life was drained from your body, rendering it an immobile marionette whose strings dangled from the tips of Dottore’s slender fingers. As if his words were coated in a paralyzing agent, you couldn’t bring yourself to speak further or move an inch. The only reminder that you were still alive was the harrowing thump of your pulse, each beat accelerating faster than the last.

How did he know?

For a split second you wondered if you’d been betrayed, but that was impossible. You had premeditated the perfect plan, meticulously memorized every step, and followed through with flawless execution.

With clandestine sleight, you acquired the perfect trump card—a gun loaded with bullets meant to destroy both visions and delusions. It was exactly what you needed to put an end to him, to put an end to this madness and absurdity. You’d be done with this once and for all. You’d have your old life back; exactly as it was before.

So how?

And what was more pressing than how, was the question of just what Dottore was planning to do with this knowledge. The urgency that question posed was unmatched by anything else, the answer pertaining to whether you would live or die.

You couldn’t help but wince, unable to conceal your expressions any longer. Dottore had seen through it all, seen through all your plans. You were dead, and you could only hope that your death would not be as unpleasant as some of the others by his hand. You knew what he was capable of, and you knew he was capable of far worse.

“I didn’t think so.” Dottore’s words were firm. Unwavering. And in those very seconds you were forced to accept the reality that you were going to die. This was the end.

“Go ahead,” Dottore said, slowly holding out his hands with both palms facing you. “Shoot me.”

What?

“I won’t stop you,” he finished his sentence. You were still gaping at him, but he was gazing back straight into your eyes, unflinching.

“Is this a joke?” you breathed, unable to comprehend what was just said to you.

“Is that your final question?” Dottore returned, his words somehow snapping you out of your daze and paralysis for a split second. You instinctively reacted by reaching to your thigh, pulling out the gun that you had prepared for this very moment and aiming it directly at him.

You tried to still the tremble of your hands as your index finger hooked onto the trigger, tensing it frozen so it wouldn’t pull.

A moment went by.

“Is that all?” Maybe you were imagining things. You had to be, but you couldn’t help but feel his eyes scan your face, searching for something.

Just what was he looking for? Could it be the same thing you sought?

“Allow me my final question, then.”

You couldn’t help but anticipate, that minuscule flame of hope, that lingering spark that refused to be snuffed out, flaring back to life.

“Sure.” Your voice was low, but you knew that he had heard you, nonetheless.

“Question...” Each second felt like it had been split up into millions, leaving you to experience time a microsecond at once. You were breathing heavily, your blood pulsating in your ears and adrenaline rushing through your veins. “...Twenty.”

“There is something stopping you, isn’t there?”

next chapter -> any interactions are appreciated (´･ω･`) thank you very much for supporting my work! ♡

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an-angel-in-the-garden · 1 year ago

Note

If you’re familiar with the games and their lore; if not I’ll happily settle with Fem!Siren or Fem!Dragon Reader; could I have some headcanons for Fem!Dovahkiin Reader x Aizen, Dottore, and Pantalone?

So I don't really know about skyrim but I did a little research to get to this, I hope you enjoy some dragon born reader!

Aizen

As with most things involving Aizen this started as scientific fascination He saw a use in you, a weapon to bend to his will but it only takes a few months for it to become something more

Your fighting spirit, your will that commands respect and your ability to communicate with not only hollows but those of dragon kind is simply stunning

He takes his time with courting you, gifts and sweet words in hopes of having you willing fall to his side

Aizen would wants to help you cultivate that power, let it grow and burn bright so you both may rule together

Nothing but praise once you start dating, he needs the world, all three worlds to know just how powerful you are

Any draconic features you might have must always be on display and he'll make sure the outfits for you proudly help show you off

By the end everyone will see how powerful you are and how much he's willing to do just to keep you around

Dottore

Dottore in a very similar way sees a scientific value in you but for him its becomes obsession quickly

There's no doubt that he wants to take you apart at first and he fully tries more then once

All the segments know to keep an eye on you and make sure you can't stray very far

He wants to tie you up and keep you forever close to him but he knows that wouldn't be very fun for either of you

That won't change how possessive he gets, Dottore wants to keep your background a secret, something only he knows

Of course that doesn't mean he won't help you control it but it does mean freedom is limited

More than anything Dottore's love is hard to bear but he knows you can handle him that you're willing to fight him on things and that only makes him more in love with you

Pantalone

He had no interest in what you were, ones background matters not to him but your strong will has always stood out

Pantalone is more interested in your work then you but business deals soon tip into lunches then friendship and finally real affection and love

The strength you show, the skills he sees you work hard to better, it all matters to him and leads him to trusting you over time

Truly being a dragonborn person really doesn't mean much to him it what's you do with said skills that matter, are you ashamed? Proud? No matter, he's here to support you and remind you blood means nothing

The most independent partner, his work and you will be kept separate and he prefers it that way once you start dating but if you ever need his help he's willing to lend it

A power couple in the sense that people fear you but Pantalone still takes the time to show you off, lots of public dates to remind both you and the public that nothing will stop him from loving you

Though he doesn't care much about your background he won't deny when he wants to learn more. If you know things, how you learn them, if you're interested in it then he also wishes to join you in finding out more

You will always just be yourself. No matter your looks, history or skills in his those things change nothing what matters is the here and now and for that he loves you

Not gonna lie this isn't really a dragonborn reader and I am sorry about that. It was really hard to make it work since I didn't know how far I wanted to take it and that led to it being very vague. I hope you still enjoyed this and thank you very much for requesting and reading. Have a good night or day~ Lilly

#reader imagine #x reader #reader insert #reader x #bleach imagines #bleach x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #aizen sosuke x reader #aizen x reader #dottore x reader #pantalone x reader

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watatsumiis · 2 years ago

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MCDONALD'S! MCDONALD'S!

Ok ok hear me out - the characters, with you demanding a happy meal.

Sips out

JKDSHFKJF wait this idea is so funny and silly. I love it.

you didn't specify a character, so Harbinger rambles below the cut!

Arlecchino - Gives you the most incredulous look she can muster. Outwardly, she acts like it’s the most ridiculous request anybody has ever made, and all but turns her nose up at you. Once she realises you’re serious, however, she will begrudgingly pull into the nearest McDonald’s. The stipulation, however, is that she’ll make you order it. If that means having to lean over her in the driver’s seat to do so, so be it.

Capitano - Just wordlessly rolls up and orders you a Happy Meal. He remembers your favourite order and any extras you might like, and always knows which toy to pick for you (this is an AU where the McDonald’s toys aren’t awful). He almost always pays unless you make a point to hand your card to him beforehand and insist that you’re paying. Occasionally, he’ll order himself something small - an apple pie or a bag of those McDonald’s biscuits, as well as a no-sugar soda (he’s a weirdo who likes the tang of artificial sweeteners).

Childe - He’s entirely on board, he’ll do an illegal u-turn to get you to your destination if you so much as say “oh, McDonald’s would be nice right now” as you drive by one. There’s nothing that can stop him. It also helps that he loves the food from there. He’ll order your happy meal, as well as a full family combo for himself. That man can pack food away like nobody’s business. He’d also never say no to you when you’re asking for something so innocuous.

Columbina - Her response is always something along the lines of “oh my gosh, it’s like you read my mind!”. She loves Happy Meals, and collects all the toys (be aware that she’ll bother you into ‘donating’ your toy if it’s one she doesn’t yet have), so she’s always super enthusiastic and will go out of her way to get you your meal. Half the time, it’s probably her suggesting you go get Happy Meals a moment before the words are out of your mouth. She doesn’t even like them that much (she’s partial to the McFlurries), but she likes the toys, and getting to hang out with you, so it’s a win-win!

Dottore - Will launch into a whole big spiel about how unhealthy chain restaurants are, the ethics behind them, what their food is made from, what the meal you’re craving tells him about your current mental and physical state, the whole shebang. He sounds super pretentious, and will continue to be that way until you point out that time you saw him crouched behind the generators in his lab eating a Big Mac he’d reheated using the warmth they give off. That’ll have him shutting up and taking you to the nearest McDonald’s in a heartbeat.

La Signora - She’ll pull into the nearest McDonald’s with no hesitation, roll up to the window, then order herself an iced long black without a semblance of pity towards you. If you complain about it too much, she threatens to leave you on the side of the road somewhere. She will staunchly refuse to buy you a Happy Meal, no matter how much you beg and plead. Though there are rare occasions, when she knows you’ve had a rough day, that she’ll soften a little and get you your meal.

Pantalone - He’ll go into a rant about how fast food isn’t good for you, and how it takes advantage of lower income groups in order to pedal food that he deems to be ‘greasy’ and ‘unhealthy’, and give you this whole snooty lecture about it before insisting on taking you somewhere nicer. Though, he’s not entirely heartless. If he realises you’re just seeking out a familiar comfort food, he’ll begrudgingly take you to get your Happy Meal. Though, if there’s anything at all wrong with the order, he can and will threaten to go marching back in there to scold some minimum-wage employees (in reality, he’s always perfectly polite to them).

Pierro - He’s not really for the idea at first. Not out of malice or anything, he just dislikes taking detours and being in unfamiliar situations. With some convincing, he’ll eventually fold and take you to get your food. He always yells way too loudly at the machine and grumbles about using the little card-tappy machine. He also has this strange curse where the employees will always give him the wrong toy, and you’ll end up with the one you didn’t want. Even if you try to remedy this by asking for the other one, they happen to get it right that time. It’s rather ridiculous, but also pretty funny.

Pulcinella - He’s super enthusiastic about it and will take you there right away. Despite his somewhat dark and heartless reputation, he’s very sweet to those he likes and adores spoiling them rotten whenever the opportunity presents itself. Every now and then, he’ll order the same thing as you, just to give it a try. If you pay attention, you’ll notice that he keeps the toys and puts them up in his office, like a nice little reminder of the time you two spent together. However, he can and will mispronounce things and the secondhand embarrassment is downright painful.

Sandrone - She is the embodiment of the memes where a girlfriend says they don’t want any food, then proceeds to steal their partner’s fries. She may buy herself a drink or hotcakes or something when she orders your meal, but she’ll insist that she doesn’t need anything more substantial for herself, but once the food is nearby, she seems to realise that she’s actually quite hungry, and will steal parts of your meal for herself without even looking at you.

Scaramouche - Turns his nose up at you and scowls, telling you that you can get it yourself, in your own time, and not to bother him with such pesky requests in the future. If you continue to bother him about it, he’ll threaten to kick you out of the car and leave you, but eventually he just crumples, and moans and gripes as he pulls into the drive-thru. He can be pretty snippy with the employees, but you wind up with your food nonetheless. He doesn’t take any special requests though, so you’ll always end up with the basic meal and whatever toy the person who served you tosses your way.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagiarise my writing! I do not consent for my works to be translated and posted elsewhere, or used to teach bots!

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oyasumi-dove · 2 years ago

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I hate all of you writers who don’t tag your respective audience of readers correctly.

#diluc x reader #dottore x reader #pantalone x reader #albedo x reader #venti x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #reader insert #wriothesley x reader

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affableramen · 8 months ago

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I swear my lord that’s him

#pantalone fan service #pantalone reader insert #pantalone x y/n #pantalone x you

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windows0zerosblog · 24 days ago

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Fic I made of a coworker Pantalone basically masturbating in front of you because you’re a pervert.

Here it is in ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65855026

Perhaps you felt you could get away with it since he always kept his eyes closed, but he could always feel your eyes on him. Stripping his clothes off mentally and whatever other deranged fantasies you held in that twisted mind of yours.

Ah, but who could blame you? Pantalone was a jewel to be desired. His long legs clothed in tight stockings showing off his leanly shaped legs. His shorts, which barely concealed his ass whenever he would bend down, would often ride up his thighs, somehow showing off more skin.

You disgust him though, completely out of his league, and now it was just you and him in the office. You two had a report due tomorrow but your dumbass didn’t finish your part in time and now he has to wait for you so he can finish it all up.

He stood in front of your desk, his hands neatly entwined with each other at his front. “Are you finished yet?” He asked, although he had a smile on his face, and patience has always been his best virtute, your constant staring had started to get to him and he felt his patience thin.

Your response was predictable: you shook, startled at his sudden voice. “I-um- n-no…” Pantalone raised an eyebrow and titled his head. He released his hands from their usual resting place and placed them on your desk, leaning close to you. “Oh? Really now? Is something distracting you?”

Pantalone’s slender fingers started to drum against the wooden surface as he kept his head cocked to the side, waiting for your response. Then, an idea popped into his head. This is the perfect chance to get some revenge on you. You wanted to stare at him? Oh he’ll give you something to stare at.The report can wait. He can always bat his pretty eyelashes at their boss, Ms.Tsaritsa to get an extension. He was her most faithful employee afterall. He can get away with things from time to time.

The raven head smirked as he removed his hands from your desk, his nails slightly scraping against the mahogany, and started to undo the buttons on his blouse, slowly revealing the pale skin underneath. Your eyes widened at this, surprised at his sudden change in demeanor.

“Ara Ara~ why so shocked? Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted to see~?” His tone shifted dramatically to a sultry one. Pantalone’s gloved hands undid the rest of the buttons, slipping the shirt off himself leaving his pale subtle chest exposed. You felt your mouth water at the sight, eyes glued to the exposed skin. Pantalone chuckled as he traced a finger along the edge of his collar bone. “How pathetic. Practically drooling with just seeing a little skin?” Before you could respond, Pantalone walked over to the side of your desk, his heels clacking on the hardwood floor, and slid himself onto it, crossing his legs.

He leaned to the side, resting a hand on the top of his knee while the other supported him up. His fingers trace up his thigh, his touch slow and deliberate as he feels your eyes follow his movements. “Such a dirty little pervert~” He cooed, His fingers crept higher up his thigh, tracing the seam of his stockings before stopping just at the hem of his shorts before sliding his fingers under them. He let out a soft sigh, as if he were relishing in pleasure.

“Mmmm, I bet you wish this could be your dirty hands.” he purred, he removed his hand and placed it on the waist of his shorts. He slowly unzipped his shorts, pulling them off and leaving him in his expensive lace panties that match his stockings. He leaned back on his hands, puffing out his chest forward, the pose offering a view of his nipples. You could see his manhood straining against the fabric.

“Like what you see pervert~?” he asked, a soft groan came from his lips as he trailed a finger across his clothed cock before pulling it out through the of his underwear. He makes a sharp gasp as he grips the base of his shaft. His other hand goes up to play with his nipple, pinching and twisting the sensitive bud. He lets out moans as his hand starts to pump up and down his shaft, pausing to tease his tip, smearing the precum down his shaft.

“Haa~ such a disgusting fucking pervert, watching me touch myself. And I bet you’re ngh- e-enjoying every bit.” Panting heavily, he tilts his head back, exposing the slender column of his neck as he makes sures to slow his strokes, making sure to make it as tortuous as possible. His fingers traced up along the underside of his shaft before giving the head a flick, drawing a moan from Pantalone.

His other hand slid down his body until it reached his thighs where he started to grope there. Gasping and moaning like the wanton slut he was making himself out to be. He tried to take it as slow as he could, but his teasing proved too much for him as he grew impatient. Starting to stroke faster, his hips bucking to meet his strokes.

His breath grew heavy, lips part as felt a knot beginning to form in his groin. “F-fucnghhh- you’re so absolutely disguting- ngughh~, s-staring at me as I debase myself. I see the ways you sta-ah!-ring at me when y-you think I don’t notice.” He punctuated his degrading words with particularly hard thrusts of his hips, fucking into the tight circle of his fingers.

"Ara ara ara~! Y-you're enjoying this, you disgusting pervert? Watching me t-touch myself like a slut~?" he gasped out, his free hand coming up to toy with his hardened nipple, pinching and tugging on it roughly as he chased his release.

He takes a sharp gasp as he feels his orgasm approaching. He throws his head back with a loud moan as he shoots his load onto himself. His body shook as spurt after spurt of his thick, white cum painted his chest. He was panting heavily as he slowly came down from his high, his hand still stroking his softening cock lazily.

He brought the cum to his mouth, wrapping his tongue around his digits as he sucked the juices off, slowly of course. Making sure to be as loud as possible. After, Pantalone shot you a smug look before he slowly got up from the desk, He put his shirt back on before tucking it back into his shorts. He then zipped himself back up before smoothing out any wrinkles in his clothes.

Dumbfounded and aroused beyond belief, you stare at Pantalone with bulging eyes and flushed cheeks, your chest heaving with each desperate breath. Your brain struggles to process the depravity of the scene that just unfolded - your coworker touching himself right in front of you, all to punish you for staring too much. Yet despite the degradation, you can't look away, your gaze fixated on the obscene spectacle of Pantalone enjoying his climax.

“Now then.” He clasps his hands and returns to his usual calm and professional voice. “Back to work. I don’t want to be here all night. Chop chop.” With a sharp turn of his heels he quickly returns to his desk, leaving you.

#pantalone #x reader #female reader #reader insert #fanfic #Pantalone x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #smut #office seduction

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magicalbats · 9 months ago

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Kinktober Day 8: Dottore & Pantalone x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 4652

Warnings: Afab!reader, cat girl reader, body horror elements, mentions of genetic modification & surgery, pet play, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, fucking machine

A/N: As always anything I write for the Harbinger's tends to skew towards the dark so be mindful of the tags, everyone! Also this is why I need them to hurry up and release more content that features Pantalone, I could not find a pic where these two were photoshopped together lmao

⭐

Sometimes Dottore finds himself wondering why he even bothered creating you in the first place.

It’s certainly not so he can watch you shamelessly rub up against Pantalone’s legs in a supplicating gesture for attention — the exact same attention you regularly eschewed when it was coming from him — nor was it so he could continuously find tufts of your fur caught on all of his clothes. Even the ones he’d never worn around you were mysteriously inundated with the clinging hairs, which was particularly remarkable given how little fur you actually had on your body.

Pondering this conundrum, he doesn’t immediately notice that Pantalone is speaking again until something he says jolts the doctor out of his thoughts.

“What did you just say?”

The bespectacled man sitting across from him on the spacious sofa in Dottore’s office tips his head in a curious manner, although the arguably polite smile on his face never so much as falters. “Hm? I was just commenting on how friendly your pet has recently become. I seem to recall her being quite skittish not all that long ago.”

Humming a curt sound of acknowledgment, Dottore shoots you a quick look.

You peer right back at him from your spot curled up on the floor at Pantalone’s feet, your cheek pressed into the carefully ironed line of his dark pant leg. Something about the way you meet his gaze despite the barrier of his hook beaked mask standing in the way speaks of an audacity that almost manages to irritate him. It was the sort of gall only a cat could embody, either by nature or through an inflated sense of superiority that was rarely ever warranted.

But if he’d wanted a pet that would cower and look at him with blind obedience rather than silent, judgmental contempt then he should have used a dog to genetically modify you into existence instead.

What’s done was already done though, so there wasn’t any point in lingering on it unnecessarily. Lifting his attention, Dottore looks over at his fellow Harbinger again. “I can see that. But what did you say afterward? I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch it, or perhaps my ears are simply playing tricks on me.”

“Ah, that.” Relenting with a soft chuckle, Pantalone reaches down to idly pet over your head. The faint vibration of a purr rises up as you tip into the indulgent motion, ears twitching eagerly in demand of more scritches. “I just made a joke that perhaps it was getting to be that time of year for her. I’m never quite sure what any of your miraculous experiments are capable of though, so perhaps that doesn’t apply here?”

Lifting a thoughtful hand to his chin, Dottore turns that over for all of half a second. “No, there's every possibility that she’ll still be susceptible to the same biological cues as her feline counterparts. I didn’t omit any of the genetic hard coding for that when I spliced her together but I also didn’t go out of my way to include it either. It’s hard to say for sure right this moment but …”

He sends you another considering glance but this time you’re much too distracted by Pantalone’s hand and the way it’s rubbing at the spot just behind your conically pointed ears to notice him looking you over. By his estimate you were very close to being evenly split between the two halves, which was just as he’d wanted it. Neither a simple girl who could bore him to death with an endless stream of prattling nor a true cat that would easily expire under his care. In truth he’d initially wanted to use you as a personal assistant after spending a few dozen decades with only his own clones for company.

Unfortunately you’d proven to be just a bit too simple for him to trust with sharp pointy objects and he’d had to give up on the idea quickly enough. He still recognized that you weren’t completely without worth though, medical marvel that you were, and looking at you now … he’d take a guess that there was about a fifty-fifty chance you’d inherited a cat's natural mating drive and all that came with it.

The thought intrigues him a great deal more than he would have expected it to. Certainly this was a rather foolish endeavor to undertake when he compared it to all of the other projects and experiments he wanted to dabble in, but for an afternoon dalliance this didn’t sound too terribly lackluster.

Allowing his mouth to curl into a brief smile, Dottore lifts his attention to fix back on Pantalone again. “What a fascinating idea, Regrator. Are you quite certain you have no interest in science?”

Pantalone tips his head again, but in a rather quizzical manner this time. “Ah? I’m afraid I can’t claim to have the same aptitude for such pursuits as you do, Doctor. I’m sure I’d be nothing but a hindrance in your search for answers.”

“Oh, that’s just not true at all. Almost anyone can fill the role of assistant, at least, and I see a wealth of untapped potential in you on top of that. You’re of a sharp mind to match that sharp tongue of yours.”

“You flatter me greatly, Doctor.”

Eager and grinning, Dottore shifts to the edge of his high backed chair and leans forward to brace his forearms across his knees, bringing the hands together in a loose clasp.

“You.” He intones, earning a languid glance from you, though it’s obvious you were still far more interested in his colleague than in him. No matter though. He would correct that soon enough. “Come over here kitten, and I suggest you do not dawdle.”

For a moment it looks like you’re simply going to ignore him in the proficient way cats do where they give no sign at all of having heard their masters bidding and simply go about their business as usual. Luckily for you, however, the human part of your brain has enough reasoning and cognitive abilities to understand the imperative nature of an order, and you reluctantly push away from Pantalone to get on your hands and knees.

Deliberately slow, you crawl closer to him across the floor with a wary look on your face and your long tail flickering stiffly behind you to indicate your displeasure at having been summoned away from the banker. Such an obvious display of clear disrespect would have been enough for just about anyone else to win themselves a rather unfortunate end at his hands, but Dottore was well acquainted with the physiological behaviors of felines. The fact you were coming to him at all was a small testament to his unmatched abilities as a scientist.

Of course he would’ve liked you to be a bit more intelligent but, he supposed, that was his own fault for choosing a cat rather than something more inclined towards cleverness. A raven, perhaps, would have been the better choice. As long as he issued orders that were short and to the point you understood him well enough though, and he feels a sharp smile pulling at his mouth now as you come to kneel before him.

Reaching out, Dottore places a gloved palm on top of your head, flattening your ears before dragging it down across your neck and back. The way you shirk and dramatically hunch your spine inward under the pressure assures him you don’t like the rough handling very much — but then he reaches the base of your tail and you promptly tip forward to jut your ass up in the air, nudging against his hand. From his elevated position over you he can see your claws coming out to prick into the rug and pull at the woven fibers but he allows it for the time being. It was a promising sign, at least.

“Does that feel good, my little experiment? You look like you’re enjoying being rubbed here.”

You issue a low, vibrating sound that human vocal cords probably shouldn’t be able to make, tail arching up and over in plain invitation. He hadn’t ever thought to toy with you in this manner before, but after seeing how receptive you were to this sort of touch he was very tempted to make it a regular part of your role here. You weren’t doing much of anything else except getting fur on all of his clothes, after all.

“That is quite interesting, isn’t it?” Pantalone murmurs, leaning forward as well to get a better look at the scene playing out before him. “Aside from the paws she looks so human. I wouldn’t have expected to see this kind of reaction from her.”

“I don’t think it’s too surprising. The base of the tail has a veritable smorgasbord of receptive nerve endings which naturally feeds into the nervous system of the surrounding areas. The lower half of her spine is likely a sensitive hotspot as well, and of course that includes the genitals too by proxy. By the way, did you know,” Keeping his tone light and conversational, Dottore drags his hand lower past your twitching tail to idly rub his fingers along the center seam of the bloomers he was nice enough to let you wear. “Even humans had a tail at one time and we still carry the vestigial leftover to this day in the form of a dormant tailbone, so the anatomy was already there. I just filled in the blanks on her genetic genome to … encourage the development of this specific appendage a little bit.”

And it had been a resounding success.

Sadly the same could not be said for your feet. The human leg simply was not built the same way as a cats, and the backwards curve of your hind paws did not lend itself well to upright locomotion. You preferred to crawl as a result, occasionally going up on all fours to move quickly, but this too seemed to give you some amount of discomfort when the joint mobility simply wasn’t there. If he’d deemed you to be well equipped for working as his assistant he would have gone through the trouble of performing surgery to try and fix the mistake in your physical deformity but it hadn’t seemed necessary after he’d realized how dull you actually were.

Besides that, it also made it that much easier to keep track of where you were at any given time when you could neither flee nor navigate anything more arduous than a flat surface without causing a great commotion. You couldn’t even successfully manage any of the doorknobs in his wing of the palace when the paws where human hands should have been were completely bereft of opposable thumbs. This meant you were effectively trapped without him having to do much of anything to ensure you couldn’t escape, and sometimes he found himself half convinced that this was the only reason he hadn’t disposed of you much earlier.

Dottore was rather glad for his own generosity on the matter though while he pets over your cunt through the thin layer of cotton to make you enthusiastically squirm at his feet. There isn’t an ounce of shame in the way you arch your back to better present yourself to him and neither did you seem all that concerned about the audience you had watching the flagrant animal display. And Pantalone, for his part in this as little more than a bystander, seemed rather fascinated with observing the curious scene.

That was why the two of them got on so well with one another. Even if he didn’t have any particular talents for scientific pursuit, the banker still recognized ingenuity and progress when he saw it.

And as he peers down at you, observing the hopeful shake of your hips when you rear back on his hand, Dottore comes to the conclusion that now was as good a time as any to test the hypothesis forming in the back of his mind. He could guess at how the genetic marriage between human and cat would affect you on a physical level, but testing it first hand was always his preferred method.

Of course he doesn’t give you any warning before he does it, simply removing his gloved fingers from between your legs, and you immediately noise a displeased sound into the room. Your claws come out in earnest now to tug fitfully at the rug even as you crane your head around to glance up at him. The expression on your face seemed to suggest you were very offended that he would take away your source of pleasure, and he grins at the sharp flick of your agitated tail.

“Oooh, don’t be upset. I’ll give you more of what you want as soon as you properly ask me for it.”

Rumbling a brief sound of annoyance, you insistently nudge your ass at him but Dottore momentarily stays his hand, deciding to merely watch what you’ll do instead.

And you don’t disappoint, your impatience showing in the way your ears twitch back against your skull as you push your upper body up from the floor. Just sitting there for a moment, you seem to think it over before the temptation proves too great and you lean heavily into his leg to rub your body against him in a coaxing manner. Now it was Dottore who you were all but plastering yourself to, and he can’t help the laugh that rises in his chest.

“I’d almost say my feelings were hurt.” Pantalone murmurs, though the ever present note of vague amusement in his voice remains.

“Yes, she’s certainly easy to win over, isn’t she?”

Not even trying to hide his satisfaction, Dottore allows his mouth to pull into a sharp toothed smile as he reaches back down again. You give a placating little mewl when you realize his hand is coming near but he just nudges your hip off him with an indelicate push so he can grab at the band of your bloomers. With one good tug, he has them rolled down over your ass to pool in the bends of your knees, exposing your bare cunt to the cool air.

A faint shudder works down your spine, tail flickering somehow more aggressively than before, but even now there isn’t so much as a hint of reticence in your body language. Had you been nothing more than a frail, stupid girl, he was sure you would have been wailing at him to stop while you tried to cover yourself. And if you were just a regular cat, well … he wouldn’t have had any such interest in your biological behaviors to begin with were that the case.

But you were a unique specimen and a highly interesting one at that, even if the end result of your creation hadn’t quite met his expectations. So he finds himself almost bordering on giddy eagerness when he directs his hand between your legs again where he softly pets over the fleshy crease of your body. The purring immediately starts up again, verbalizing your pleasure for him as you slowly start to press your chest down to the floor in another supplicating arch.

“I’d wager that must feel rather nice, doesn’t it? And to think you usually want nothing to do with me. Such a pity.”

Gradually, Dottore increases the pressure of his gloved fingers until he can feel the meaty seam starting to squish and spread under his ministrations. The direct contact against your clit makes you shudder fiercely in response, mewling a heated sound into the carpet when you press your face into it. And your tail just keeps flicking back and forth in its upright position while he caresses over you, clearly pleased with his cooperation but still impatient for the building tension in your body to reach its tipping point.

But he doesn’t want to give you that satisfaction just yet so he pulls his hand away when your breathing starts to deepen, indicating that you were getting close. Once again you mewl an unhappy sound and shake your ass demandingly at him to no avail. He merely brings his hands together between his knees and watches you fitfully squirm on the floor, enjoying the shameless display far more than he expected to.

“I’m certain you can do a better job of asking for it than that. How about you try again?” Dottore coos at you, earning himself a brief chuckle from his colleague.

“You’re a cruel one, Doctor. It’s not nice to tease her like that, is it?”

“I’m sure she’ll get over it.”

Chittering a poor little sound, you stiffly push up onto your hands and knees again and try rubbing against his leg much like the first time. When that doesn’t work though you become all the more antsy, twisting your bloomers up around your legs when you start to pace back and forth, yet you don’t stop long enough to kick them off. Evidently you were much too focused on the current state of your cunt to give it much thought, and Dottore intently watches when you finally shift towards Pantalone as if suddenly remembering he was there at all.

It’s obvious that you’re thinking about it, toying with the notion of seeking out his assistance instead and weighing the odds. He would have easily guessed you’d try your luck with the banker since you seemed to like him more anyway. To his mild pang of surprise though you decide to beseech your master once more, turning to point your cunt at him before jutting your ass up in a clear offering.

The tender plush of your body inspires a slow twitch of his cock, his lower stomach curling in anticipation of sinking himself into that tight little clutch between your thighs. That was, perhaps, an activity for later, if he found you to be worth the effort that it would entail, and preferably not when Pantalone was watching with that eternally placid smile on his face.

“Well, that’s better I suppose.”

Reaching out for you again, Dottore takes just a moment to savoringly nudge at your clit with his thumb to make you purr in appreciation. Then he moves his hand higher, easily locating your entrance at the epicenter of all the sticky slick coming out of you where he somewhat rudely bullies a long finger into your pussy. You noise a startled sound of pleasure in response but rather than trying to escape from the sudden penetration you stiffly push back on it.

Mewling rather excitedly now, you swivel your hips to grind yourself on the intrusion. Even through his glove he can feel your walls enthusiastically squeezing him, trying to suck him in deeper despite his knuckle pressing flush to your labia with nowhere else to go.

“Insatiable thing.”

“Do you suppose she’s really gone into heat then?” Pantalone queries across from him, prompting Dottore to hum in thought.

“I’ll have to examine her hormone levels later to know for certain, but given how very hot she’s internally running I wouldn’t be surprised.” He can feel that through the barrier of leather as well, your body temperature so high it seems to him that you’re burning up.

The stretch to your inner sleeve clearly comes as a great relief even for as slight as it is though, so he kindly squeezes a second finger in with the first to put more pressure on your puffed up, gummy walls. You outright keen at the addition as you fuck yourself back on his hand, pussy softly clicking in time with the restless motion.

But it’s not near enough to fully ease the ache deep within you and whatever reprieve his fingers had provided quickly appears to wear off. You get antsy and fidgety again, impatiently trying to take Dottore’s fingers harder, faster to no avail. Whining a low sound of growing distress, you finally dig your back paws into the rug and push up to brace in a true mounting position that begged for him to oblige and fuck you sensless.

“Goodness,” Pantalone murmurs, his usual brand of faux, crooning concern heavy in his voice. “I almost find myself pitying the poor thing. Isn’t there something you can do for her, Doctor?”

He turns that over for a brief moment while he idly thrusts his fingers in and out of your sloppy cunt, twisting his wrist to ensure he would hit the sensitive nerve cluster on the other side of your upper wall. You clearly appreciate it, given how loudly you keen in obvious pleasure, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Hm. I think I might have something for her but I’ll have to go fetch it. Keep an eye on her for a moment, won’t you?”

Pantalone’s head comes up at the same time yours does, but for two completely different reasons. While it was clear his fellow Harbinger was just surprised at what he’d said, you were dismayed by the sudden loss of his fingers when he withdraws them with a sticky wet slurp. And you don’t even make an attempt to hide it as you pathetically whine and meow at him as he moves to stand up, completely ignoring you now in favor of wiping his glove off on a handkerchief procured from his coat pocket.

“It will only take me but a moment. Entertain her however you see fit.” He intones before turning on his heel to step out of the office without giving either of you a chance to question or otherwise pester him any further about it.

A quick stroll down the corridor to his lab plus a few minutes spent locating the specific machine he wanted is all it takes for him to have what he needs. He’s rather pleased at his own genius to have thought of something like this and on such short notice too, and he was eager to get back to test it. In fact, he almost catches himself humming a light tune along the way.

And he’s not at all surprised to find you curled up in Pantalone’s lap when he returns with the adjustable piston tucked in the bend of his arm. He had a few guesses at how you’d managed to weasel your way into that position, particularly when you peer over at him like a disparaged orphan who’s had to seek out the comfort of strangers on the streets. How very typical of a cat, he decides as the banker glances up from where he’d been softly petting over your cunt in his stead.

“And what is this curious device?” He ventures with an accompanying quirk of his brow.

“This is nothing more than a simple piston. Not very exciting on its own, I’m afraid, and if I had the time right now I’m sure I could make a much better attachment for it. But something tells me our little kitty here won’t be too picky about what ultimately gives her what she wants.”

Practically leering under his mask, Dottore moves to set up the machine on the floor between his chair and the sofa. The long metal base is sufficiently heavy to act as a counterweight for the moving rod so he doesn’t need to worry about it unbalancing while he makes quick work of simply adjusting the angle. From his peripheral he can see you warily watching him the whole time from the safety of Pantalone’s lap but when he calls for you to come over you slide down to the floor without a fuss.

It was remarkable how quickly you’d warmed up to him after just having your pussy fingered a little bit and he makes a mental note of that as you shuffle over to inspect the device.

“Turn around.” He commands, gesturing what he wants you to do with his hand.

Giving an agitated flick of your tail, you comply with this too, further solidifying his suspicions that you were indeed quite easy to manipulate when needed. It was hard to say if you truly understood what was about to happen but the wet cunt you bare at him assures Dottore you wouldn’t have any complaints about it. And he can’t help but notice that Pantalone must have removed your bloomers for you while he was gone as they were now nowhere in sight. Good.

Bending at the waist, he takes hold of your hips to pull you back and position the center of your body directly in front of the waiting, smooth ended bar. He would have liked to use something that was better suited for you but it was the best he could do on such short notice. And you rumble a low sound of warning at his manhandling, flicking a sharp look at him over your shoulder which he mollifies with a saccharine, condescending coo.

“There, there. This should have you sorted out in no time. You’ll probably be pestering me to bring it out for you again if my hunch is correct.”

Keeping you in place with one hand, he reaches down with the other to guide the bar to your entrance. You give a startled jolt at the touch of cool metal, a new tension running through your shuddering frame, but it quickly shifts towards deep felt relief when he nudges you back to take it inside. Watching your pussy slowly stretch and open up around the foreign object fills him with a particular sort of satisfaction that makes his cock eagerly stir again. It had been a very long time since he last felt so compelled by the human body.

Well, in this case it was human-cat, wasn’t it?

“Oh my.” Pantalone softly breathes out, intently watching the same thing with a great deal of plain faced interest.

Dottore chuckles a heady sound under his breath while he reaches down to hit the button on the side of the machine that makes it whir to life. With a faintly groaning chug, the piston slowly starts to move in a sluggish thrust but it immediately seems to have your attention for as slight as it is.

Your impatient wriggling promptly stops, tail curiously flicking up while you simply kneel there through the first full motion of the pump action. Gradually the bar slides deeper into you until it reaches the end of its allotted length before withdrawing with a viscous sheen of arousal coating it now. Evidently pleased with the sensation, you shift slightly on the floor to better accept the next push of the machine and Dottore outright laughs at the appreciative purr that quickly starts up.

“Looks like I was right. You don’t care what it is as long as it’s stuffing you full, eh? Such a shameless beast I have on my hands.”

“It’s not entirely without its charm.” Pantalone chimes in.

“No,” He agrees, reaching back down to turn the knob that controls the speed. “It’s not.”

All but preening in self satisfaction, Dottore straightens up and walks over to his chair where he sits down to watch the show. The machine groans a little louder with the speed increase, rumbling softly on the floor as it works your pussy over on an endless, tireless effort that has you hungrily mewling into the air.

It may not have been what he’d created you for but it was certainly entertaining in its own right. And although he was sure to grow bored with it eventually, because he always did, for the time being at least he was quite content to listen to your messy cunt greedily suck at the piston with each and every steady thrust it takes into your body.

Perhaps when the time came and he no longer had any use for you, he’d give you to Pantalone as a gift.

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #dottore x reader #il dottore #pantalone x reader #pantalone #self insert bullshit

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thescribeoflostmemories · 2 years ago

Note

Type: My vows to you/ Yandere

Pairing: Pantalone x Fallen Deity! Reader

Ahhh am I doing this correctly?? I’m a big fan of “I’m Just Doing You a Favor” so can I pls request them for this event?? Thanks for giving us smth to look forward to in the future :>

The Fancy Fiance and The Bejeweled Bride

(Yan! Pantalone x Fallen-Deity! Reader)

"Remembering; is forgetting” - Scribe

Redid some mistakes. ~ P

Disclaimer: Yandere stuff, crazy cryptic bs going on around here. No beta, we die like that guy in the story.

" Please, help me find her!"

The strange stranger couldn't help but laugh at the notion, and merely glance at the soup of tears in his hand. Seeing the hardened reflection of your perflex-ion, “You are certainly [lucky] that the lady of compassion has blessed me to tell you, dear hale and hearty friend.”

The strange stranger revealed a beguiled smile, knowing the person will arrive upon their destination at the last light of day, a road that winds in an almost serpentine like suggestion. And the journey brings them to such tenuous and disarray terrain of the ophidian's keep.

♡¥~~~~~~~¥♡

Face nearly pressed up and against the glass pane. Showing the snow gently cascades down on the ground and dim lights from the distance is the city where the event would be held.

You couldn’t wait for it, ever since your first day of devotion, today is the day of vows.

“Doll, what's wrong?” You hear Pantalone called out to you from the door, you didn’t hear him enter.

“Dearest, It is nothing to worry about, though the thought of going to the festival of vows tomorrow..” Frail hands cupped your own cheeks, feeling the warmth emitting from it while your face hid behind the veil, sighing lovingly.

Practically you could hear his merriment when you mention your excitement for tomorrow.

You felt incredibly lucky that a person like Sir Pantalone, or at least that is what he liked to be called, would take you in and share a cup between you two.

Despite him telling that your face looked fine, but the hideousness of your own preface is what made you wear the thin curtain. You never forget the day you woke up upon these lavish beddings and claimed to be yours.

“It is a good thing I came in prepared for you, come here.” Before you stand are dresses, each more lavish than the last.

One; it was a simple white ball gown like wedding dress, each embedded pearls from white gold to the darkest black jewelry. Gaudy yet somehow simple in his eyes.

Next would be a rather cute color of cold blue admiration, one with simplified accessories and the like. Wonderful ribbons that criss cross across your skin.

The last is a rather foreign red silky robe, with simple gold prints and an odd headdress. It felt so familiar, like seeing an old friend.

“When did you have the time for this?” You smiled going closer and touched the third dress, eyes twinkling in joy. Hands playing with the intricate hidden laces of the outfit.

“No need to worry about it, doll. By the morrow, I swear it will be a happy day for us."

You couldn’t help but smile and hug him tight, “Thank you! Thank you!”

Feeling his gloved hands petting your head, “It is no problem, my lovely. All that matters is that you’re here and I’m here, right my sweet?” The roll of his 's' would make anyone weak in the knees.

Everything feels like a distant past somehow, yet there’s nothing better than what is in front of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upon the day of Vows, you wore the red exotic robes and donned the veil that sweetly hid your well kept secret.

"Pantalone, look, snow!" Small gestures made seemingly fragile steps into the cold, that made the Regrator held onto you tightly so as to not slip and slide.

“Be careful, my dearest. I do not want you to get hurt.” Concern is clearly conveyed on his visage and voice. Despite him not being as muscular as the rumored Captain of the Fatui, you feel oddly safe especially with the umbrella he possesses and carries everywhere he goes.

“I know, you do not have to worry about me.” Your heart skipped a beat as he continued to hold you closer.

“I’m just scared that you’ll leave,” That made you smile and cupped his face.

“I will not just up and disappear, silly.” Embracing him as well. Seeing the warmth smile upon his face never felt so endearing until now.

“Shall we?” His gloved hands gestured to the event where it is being held, you could hear laughter and cheers from there.

“We shall.” Hand in hand, the pair of love-locked couples made their way to the busy area.

Women, men and occasionally children dressed in their finest and spent time with their beloved ones. You had to sit out one of the main events due to you not being able to fight for the bouquet of flowers, so you had to settle for a slow dance with your beloved Pantalone at the dance floor.

“Thank you for inviting me, it really means a lot to me, Pantalone.” A dreamy sigh escaped your rozen lips.

One-two-three, one-two-three, The dance isn’t well suited for one that wears garbs like yours. Often or not, you’d trip on your own clothing and Pantalone had to catch you. Embarrassing as it may be, though the time spent together. The smile that could go on for miles, stretching outward into the ocean.

During the ruckus caused by the bouquet hunting spree, you and Pantalone got separated. Participants armed with various weapons. Giant spoons, arrows of love, knives that are the size of an adult.

Amongst the throes of people, your feet had guided you to a frozen lake with snow covered trees that arched over the pool.

Alone were you with tender courage, “Charity is such a pretty word, oh, but where oh, [where] did it go?" A robust voice could be heard.

A strange stranger in tattered frightening mora colored garbs, a rather keen entity of sorts appeared by the corner of the eye briefly. It was only a jest of the light, you explain to yourself.

Loud shrieks escaped your small lips, turning around to face a blurry visage of non, who had their hand on your shoulder.

“Miss? Are you alright? You were staring for a while at nothing.” Accent low similar to yours, soft spoken yet refined. They dressed in fine physician-like robes, calm watered jade color.

“Yes, quite so, just merely strayed a little from the event,” You took a step back to give some space. This man, he speaks in bells. None could ever ring such things other than your fiance.

With a light spangle of the red veil cast still-ly shade, "I, I am sorry but can you help me find my fiance? I am not that well acquainted with the curvatures of the road ahead.” Gentle voice of yours made his lips curved up a bit.

“Of course,” Even with the blurriness of his image. You could faintly make out him nodding at the notion of helping. “I just so happen to be in search of my sister, she is deathly ill,” voice rang with rye worry you couldn’t help but try to aid him in his quest.

“I am sure my fiance could help you after all you are assisting me back to him.” The bellow of the wind was cast.

"Thank you, kind spirit." He seemed to smile.

"What is her name?" Curious who was the lucky girl who had such a loving brother.

"[*]" Was the name he told, another set of bell-like that tolled and odd enough it made one see a weasel in the horizon.

“[I] see– Ah! Pantalone!” You felt a smile on your lips the moment you heard a familiar voice behind the stranger.

“Doll.” The raven hair man chuckled as he embraced you tightly. His own smile did not fade yet it seemed affixed to his own visage. “Did (he harm you)?” Asking softly in your ear.

Shaking your head no, to assure him you were fine. And quietly explain to him you were lost and he kept you company. Adding to the mix is your request to find his sister.

“Hmm, Oh, how could I (deny) you, doll.” Kissing the top of your head before he turned his attention to the searching brother with an unknown facial expression.

Holding you still so closely, “You do not have to worry, I once lost someone as well, I will do my best to help.” Yet, why does it displease you so?

The brother’s voice said in glee, “Thank you, thank you, kind sir!”

“I will be with you in a moment, so please stay at home for a while.” Pantalone says as he ushered you to the care of his employees. The gentleness of his tone can be heard as he commanded the others to escort you to your shared abode for now.

Looking back at the two figures left alone in the winter snow.

"[Don't look away…]" You could have sworn a feminine voice whispered into your ear.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three hours have passed since the guards took you to your room. All alone with your thoughts that seemingly eat away at your mind.

Every time you try to remember, the distance widens with each time a headache is a force to be reckoned with.

Your own eyes darted around your chambers, a room painted in luxury filled with exotic items. A sigh only escaped from your lips as you sat on your bed to try and recollect. Even with these items, it doesn't seem enough…

It all just feels fuzzy. Some of the items in your room are already here when you have awoken. He claimed that it was his relative's and he'll be glad to give it to you.

A knock on the door can be heard. "Pardon my intrusion, My Lady." It was Pael your appointed handmaid. Still even until now, you were uneased whenever she tried to help you in dressing up.

"My Lady, I know Lord Pantalone has not come back yet. But, do you want some soup? It is rather cold even in the supposed summer month." in her hand is a tray with a bowl of soup.

The scent of jade knowledge wafts through the room, the herbs and spices reminded you of a star.

"On the table, please. I will eat it soon." Replying to her, though curiosity beckoned on to you from its peak.

"Understood, my lady." The single eyed maid placed the tray upon the intricately carved mahogany wood.

The one eyed maid chuckled, "Fancied [you]rself [look]ing [back]?" She smiled

"Pael, When or how did Pantalone find me?" You say, sitting down on the chair next to the warm bowl of soul.

"You could say that, Pael." There is something that even you cannot explain. But the terrible dread of something amiss is about.

"Well, it was really snowy at the time, you were white as a ghost. If you weren't [taken] in by the young master, the harsh winter would have let you a sweet and peaceful [faux] warmth." Stitched is her smile that was presented to you, her lips stretch a bit wider after a while of awkward staring between you and her.

"My Lady, it's rather cruel to think of what good you used to have. I better suggest to [look forward into] the future instead of [dream]ing of something that barely grows with [time]." Gentle push of her gloved hand to nudge the intimate style bowl holding a hydro colored jade soup.

"A childish, imaginative mind will [turn] into a noble ambition. Young admiration can turn into the most passionate of bonds." With that, Pael offered a silver spoon [for] you to consume the reflective, -though opaque, pool of jaded clarity.

"Perhaps, you are right. Though, I cannot [help] but wonder." Something about her words seem to wound you, yet none to spill.

"Wonder all you like my lady, but, no," Pael stops herself then lets out a soft chortle. "Nothing, it was just (me) humoring myself." she bowed before leaving.

Peering down at the bowl, another sigh left your lips. The scent and the warmth enticing you to take even a little sip.

Pushing all shadows away, your dainty hands scoop a portion of it to your lips. A moment to cool it down before taking a faint lick.

The silence halted as you started to cough violently, trying to force it out of your system along with dropping the spoon down to grip on the table.

Soreness of your throat is evident, the gentle voice turned hoarse and crass. Mind-numbing delight has stained your tongue, as the sound of blood pumps unevenly in your ears. Accompanied with blank staring at your fingers that grasp at the wood, feeling every grain on it.

"…!… Doll. Are you okay?" It was Pantalone, holding you in his arms. You don't remember falling, nor holding on to his gloved hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything felt heavy, nauseating to the point of puking into a corner. Your heartbeat pumps slowly making you almost aware of its sounds.

"J[us]t… woo…" You could see his mouth moving, though you couldn't hear a word he said.

Soon the other maids came rushing in with a large arm bag.

"Pan- Pan?" It felt like crystals forming in your throat causing you to tear up yet nothing fell. Hand grip tightly onto his for a moment before letting go.

That was the last you had recalled when you woke up. The room is covered in red and blue luxuries. Sweat drips down your forehead, "P-pael?" Your grainy voice tried to call out to the one eyed maid.

"Doll." Another voice called out next to you, causing you to yelp from surprise. "Doll, calm down." It was Pantalone, holding both of your wrists that attempted to hit him.

Appalled by your own actions you looked away from him and laxed your movements, "Dearest! Forgive me! I got scared and that drink, what was that? Where is Pael?" So many questions tumbled through, yet only the batman could only manage to.

For a moment, his face has a foreign expression. It didn't seem like he wanted to hear that. "There's no need to worry about her, she tried to poison you." He hissed, gripping on your wrists tighter then pulled you into a protective hug. "She's all taken care of."

Shaky frail hands grasp firmly on his back as he dips his head between your neck. "Pantalone… I'm fine…"

He didn't seem convinced as he let out a soft puff of air. Despite the room being warm, the chills of the winter glade seeps through. "If you say so, though. I will have a doctor to examine you okay?"

Knowing him he would only persist, "Very well." You nodded.

Then another thought entered your mind. "What happened?" he then replied with a curious hum back.

"That strange man, he rings bells." You tried to put into words what you could describe of him.

"You usually think of other people," The word of annoyance is riddled on his evermore smile.

He then opened his eyes ever so slightly, it was of spectacular color that looked at you so teary gaze. "Don't let go of my hand, please."

Confused, your only reply is "What?"

"Don't you know how much I worried when I found you laying on the ground?" He muttered as he protectively hugged you, your face pressed to his chest.

"Face pale as the snow itself, spasming, gasping for air, and yet you cared for the stranger rather than yourself." His heart beat is almost like music with how slow it is.

"But that's what is so special about you. (Your love for others could cost you everything), you know?" Woe written all over his tone, he kissed your forehead.

"I could give you everything you want. Just tell me. Name it and it's yours. In exchange…" Odd that he stopped himself any further, "No, that's not right…"

He pulled back and looked at you, his face "Exchange is a strong word, I prefer to refer to it as returning the feelings. Just looking or even listening to me is enough for me, dearest."

"I'm an honest person, all I want for you is to [run] into the future."

#reader insert #fatui x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #my vow to you #yandere pantalone #Deity!Reader #yandere fatui

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gabriel-xander · 2 years ago

Text

I Wish You Died Instead Ch. 5

[Scaramouce x Fem!Reader]

A/N: I started writing this before all of his lore came out/Before the last Sumeru Archon quest, so there will be a handful of inconsistency later on. My advice to you? Just go with it!

{Also on Quotev, Ao3, and Wattpad under Gabriel Xander}

Chapter 5: Played Like The Cheap Kazoo You Are

One thing you can appreciate about Scaramouche is his guts. That man has nerves of steel like you wouldn't believe. And in an act of mercy, you were allowed to look away during his massacre.

"Help me gather them up."

".................I don't want to-"

"-HUH!?"

"My Lord, with all due respect..." You grimace with judgement as he hauls the bloody boar over his shoulder with ease, "That's really fucking gross."

"Quit your bitching. I already did you the favor of not helping me kill these things," Scaramouche frowns, "I order you to help me carry these back to the camp."

You roll your eyes before grabbing the other dead boar by the legs, swinging it over your shoulder.

"It's a Goddamn miracle that I haven't beaten the shit out of you yet," The Harbinger comments while you whine about the blood.

You deadpan, "I must be blessed."

It was the next morning of staying with Isaac, Ivan, and Noah, the Treasure Hoarders that had been so kind to allow you and Scaramouche to stay with them.

Noah was a person of interest; he was one the Treasure Hoarder's that was responsible for your misfortune. He didn't seem to recognize you both as Fatui, hopefully it stays that way for a while longer. You two are hoping that bringing them food and furs would get them to trust you a little more.

You wince in pain and stop walking for a moment, breathing through your nose to calm your nerves. Your injury still hurts, you haven't gotten the opportunity to properly heal yourself yet.

"What's the matter with you?" Scaramouche turns around when he notices you stopped.

"Nothing, My Lord," You sigh, starting your walk once more, "Just wondering how we'll learn anything from Noah."

He frowns, "Any ideas?"

"I don't know, I thought... He showed, like... a fraction of interest in me, I thought I could use, like... my woman-ness on him?"

"...Your what??"

"My womanly charms! I don't know! Seduce him or whatever!"

"..." Scaramouche squints at you with disbelief, "You want to whore yourself out to get some intel?"

You scoff, "Well, when you say it like that-"

"-No, you're not doing that," Scaramouche protested, "Anyway, you can't do that even if you wanted to. I told him you were my girlfriend."

Oh, right.

You sigh, "And I thought I would be able to forget about it easily."

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

You shake your head, "Nothing, forget it. I don't really have any ideas, anyway."

You adjust your hold on the dead animal as you two walk in angry silence. Not a day goes by that you wish you were literally anywhere else but here. Hopefully Scaramouche had a plan, you honestly didn't know where to go from here.

"You might have to whore out." He says suddenly.

"Ah, so like a normal day then."

"......What?"

"I'm joking."

You were not.

"I liked it better when you didn't talk," The Balladeer huffs.

"Honestly, me too."

——

You and your superior had to stay another night with the Treasure Hoarders as the storm came back that evening. Luckily, you were all able to relocate to a small cave nearby before it got too bad. That also meant you did most of the heavy lifting as you're a strong, independent woman who don't need no man.

Scaramouche sat close by the fire to make sure it didn't die, and to try and eavesdrop on Isaac, Ivan, and Noah. You sat by the fire as well, but you were more focused on the letter you were writing to your best friend, Kazuki.

Which is fucking stupid, Nao!! It literally means Pants! The Tsaritsa is epic and all, don't get me wrong. But fucking Pantalone??? She couldn't give him a better title?? This has been bothering me forever and I need to say it if no one else will!!

With that said, yes. I DO want to wear a suit when we go see your sister in Sumeru soon. We should totally match, too. Maybe she'll think we're together and finally leave you alone about you being a lonely fuck.

Speaking of which, you know what Lord Scaramouche did?? The audacity of some bitches, I swear to the Gods-

"[Y/n]."

"Hm?" You lift your head, making eye contact with Scaramouche who was across from you, "Yes, Kuni?"

He scrunches his nose, "Kuni?"

You look around, finally noticing that it was just you and him. "Oh, damn. Where did they go?"

"Gods, you're such an airhead."

You smack your lips at his comment, "Did you need something, Kunikuzushi?"

He rolls his eyes, "They left so I can attend to your wound. Get over here so I can clean it."

You sigh, setting down your paper and pencil while making sure it won't suddenly fly into the fire. It would be too inconvenient to rewrite it all. You start removing your coat and shirt as you walk around the fire to sit by Scaramouche.

He works silently and efficiently. You've never seen this man bleed or bruise before, and his body is a little abnormally solid. You doubt he's ever taken an injury based on his seemingly perfect skin.

And yet... You've never once had a wound so gently attended to the way Scaramouche is doing now.

"What were you writing? A report?" He asks, confusing you as he hates small talk.

"Uh, a report on my feelings and emotions, yeah."

"You keep a diary?"

"Ew, no," You quickly reject the notion, "I'm writing to Kazuki. He works under Lord Ch-erm, Lord Tartaglia."

"You should keep your work life and personal life separate."

"You're the one who asked, sir."

"Whatever."

You had to bite your tongue as he cleaned your injury. The pain was bearable, but you were also a little bitch that likes to whine at any minor inconvenience. You hate the silence, and you wish you can at least hum to yourself, no matter if you're good at singing or not, but you know damn well that you already showed too much personality to this bitch ass man.

"Hey!!"

"The fuck?!"

You jerk around to glare at your boss with a flustered expression, "Can you not do that?!"

Scaramouche holds his hands up in confusion, "The hell are you talking about?!"

"You-When you just–" You mimic his previous action with your hands mid-air, moving your hands slowly in a similar silhouette of your own figure, "–The way you ran your hands up and down my sides! It-It was way too gentle!!"

By the look on his face, you can tell that even Scaramouche wasn't aware that he was doing it. He must've been lost in thought and did it subconsciously.

"I-I-"

"-Some people are ticklish, okay!!" You huff out in frustration, "Next time you do something like that, keep that in mind!"

"..."

You can practically see the cogs turn in his head. You raise an eyebrow.

That... is not what he thought you were upset about. Whether you were saving him from the embarrassment of being caught admiring how nice your skin is, or you genuinely thought he did it by accident, he didn't know.

And frankly? He didn't have the guts to find out the truth.

"Uh, okay. I'll–keep that in mind..."

You nod in satisfaction. You look down at your side, poking at the gauze taped over your wound.

"You're done, right? Thanks!"

You stand up and reach over to grab your shirt when the Universe decides it wants to mess with you just a little more. Isaac, Ivan, and Noah enter the tent laughing with each other, though they quiet down when they see you without your shirt and only your arm covering your titties.

You all stare at each other in silence, the three men becoming more red and flustered the longer they stare, and Scaramouche gains an unreadable expression. Your gaze flickers to him, trying to remind him that "hey, you're supposed to be my boyfriend, probably do something?"

Reading what you had in mind, finally the Balladeer catches on and stands up with a pissed off look.

"THE HELL ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!?! GET OUT!!"

"SORRY!!!"

———— Two Months Later ————

You slam the empty shot glass down on the counter, your gaze mindlessly wandering off to nothing in particular as you try desperately to forget the things you've seen today.

Scaramouche is not known for his patience, and out of all the Harbingers, he's definitely the least likable. But there's something you didn't think you'd ever take for granted, and that was his strange consideration for your feelings when it comes to-

"Cheer up, [L/n]. It wasn't that bad."

You roll your eyes and motion for the bartender to come over. "Easy for you to say. Some of us have morals and values, especially when it comes to human lives."

The bartender pours you your fourth shot of the night, you're finally beginning to feel a little tipsy from drinking straight Fire Water. You knock it back like a champ and semi-slam the glass back down.

"Ouch, is that judgment I hear?"

You look at your temporary comrade with a deadpan look, "What do you think, Soto?"

He laughs at your words, not feeling perturbed at all.

Amatista Soto, a man born and raised in Natlan only to somehow get involved with the Fatui. You don't know his story, other than the fact he has a Pyro vision and is most likely a fucking sociopath. You don't doubt that the only reason he joined the Fatui was so that he could kill people under the protection of the Fatui and the Tsaritsa.

His skin is medium brown with a beauty mark under his right eye. His very wavy hair was always tied back in a low ponytail, but that didn't make it look neater. He always wore an Iris flower behind his right ear, too. You have to admit that it brought out his vibrant eyes, the color of amethyst. That's probably how he was named, too.

You hated that he was attractive with a tall, large build. Made you hate him even more because how are you going to be a hot motherfucker who's so evil-

Under orders of Pierro, Scaramouche was sent somewhere unknown. You tried asking the Balladeer of his soon-to-be whereabouts, but all he did was shake his head in response. In the meantime, he ordered you to assist any other Harbinger so that your skill isn't wasted while you wait for him to come back.

——

"And... when WILL you be back, sir?" You had asked the day he left, accidentally showing concern.

Scaramouche sighed and shook his head, "I don't know. But... My advice is: don't wait for me. I could be gone for a VERY long time."

"Oh... O-Okay," You nodded, "Good luck, sir. And be careful."

He smirked, "You almost sound like someone who cares. Don't let me catch you getting soft again, [L/n]."

"Hmph! In your dreams."

——

After dealing with Noah and the other Treasure Hoarders (a memory you desperately are trying to forget due to how it ended), you started working under various Harbingers (minus Childe since he was still in Liyue).

Well, every Harbinger other than Dottore, though. You don't understand Scaramouche's resentment to the second Harbinger, but you don't question his demands as he is your superior.

Currently, you are working under the Knave, or at least, you think you are? You haven't been given direct orders from her yet, and the most you have done for her so far is fucking paper work.

"I'm going back to the Zapolyarny Palace," You sigh, pushing yourself off the stool, "Then I'm going to pass the fuck out."

"Have a good night!" "Bah."

———— Two Months Later ————

You wait patiently by the door for La Signora to be finished talking with Pantalone about some fundings, Il Dottore was with them, too. You were about to head off to Fontaine with Arlecchino, but she tells you there's a sudden change of plans, and that she was handing you off to the Fair Lady.

You were so lucky that your mask was hiding your deadpan expression. You asked her why you were suddenly being handed off to the 8th Harbinger, but Arlecchino just dismisses you with "she needs a new assistant since her last one died in Mondstadt."

...

HOW REASSURING!!

You were zoning out, a skill you learned in the Fatui so that you can be oblivious to the Harbinger's business. Unless it involves you directly, you don't want to know what their personal goals are.

You start to gnaw at your bottom lip. You are curious about this "Traveler" you keep hearing about, though. Apparently, La Signora has had an encounter with this blond haired person and their flying fairy while snatching the Gnosis from poor Barbatos. Barbatos... Barbie toes... Barbs... Barbara...

"Are you deaf?"

"Huh?"

You blink rapidly and look at who's talking to you.

La Signora, Pantalone, and Il Dottore were just staring at you now. Pantalone and the Doctor looked amused at your obliviousness. La Signora? Not so much.

"Oh, my apologies. I was lost in thought," You hold up the small stack of papers, "Here is the proper documentation on my temporary recruitment. I look forward to working with you, my Fair Lady."

"Hmph," The 8th Harbinger doesn't bother with the papers even though she requested them, "The Balladeer spoke highly of your abilities despite not having a Vision or a Delusion. So tell me, what exactly is it about you that is so praise worthy?"

"I was surprised as well to hear how high he puts you in regards. I never heard of a Harbinger having this much trust in anyone, even more so in a low ranking Fatui," Pantalone comments, "Then we hear from the Knave that you are quite competent, even in her standards?"

"It is hard not to be curious." Il Dottore adds.

"To be frank, I am just his secretary more than anything else. I take care of all his paperwork, I'm his messenger, I'm the commander of his Skirmishers, and I give orders to the lower ranks on his behalf." You shake your head, "Very seldomly would I go out on the front lines myself. I can probably count the amount of times I went into battle myself on both hands."

Which to the normal person, that is a lot. But for a Fatui? That's practically zero. And in all honesty, for anyone else, it'd be unacceptable.

Never once had he actually forced you to hurt someone if you didn't want to, and he never made you kill anyone either. Anytime you had to hurt someone, it was self defense. And anytime you kill someone...

Well, you do your best to repress those memories.

Working for the other Harbinger's made you realize you took that silent consideration for granted. Since all these fuckers want from you is violence.

"I see. So it's safe to say you are what makes him look good from the shadows," Pantalone puts a hand to his chin.

"Not at all. Lord Scaramouche has done a lot more than I. Really, I only take care of the boring things." You redirect your attention to the woman, "If I may, my Fair Lady, can I know why you have requested my assistance so suddenly?"

"Simple really. I haven't gotten the chance to personally witness what makes you so great. It'd be a shame if you went off to Fontaine for who knows how long before I got the chance to use you."

Mmmm pues.

"I-I see. Well, I hope I can meet your expectations," You force a smile, "Is there anything else you need?"

"Yes, pack your things," La Signora smirks slyly, "We're going to Liyue."

....

SHIIIT.

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bloodblanks · 1 year ago

Text

the cadence within [il dottore x reader] — chapter i.

As the daughter of a moderately wealthy businessman, you lived a comfortable but solitary life. You never thought to leave your peaceful refuge, not until one of your father’s associates—who was also your only friend—made an unexpectedly tempting offer.

co-written with noodsies, however, they’re shy and wish to stay anonymous! ♡

author's note: this fanfiction will contain mature content, including explicit sexual acts, violence, dottore himself, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

<- previous chapter

Power presents itself in many different forms. Most often, those with power are thought to possess strength, intelligence, wealth, or status. However, you were not exceptionally talented in any of the above. Instead, you found yourself gifted with something much less conventional—charisma.

—

“Pantalone!” You opened the door, beaming at the raven haired man who stood before you. “Lovely seeing you here today.” You stepped back and held the door for him.

“Y/N,” Pantalone returned the smile, thick eyelashes fluttering as his eyes crinkled with joy. “The pleasure is all mine.”

He walked inside before pausing, waiting for you to push the dense mahogany door into place, making sure it locked shut. Your home was in a rather secluded location where few people passed by—much less dare intrude. Secrecy was invaluable to all of your father’s guests.

“Unfortunately,” you began, “my father is running late today, which I apologize for. But please do come in and make yourself comfortable in the meantime.”

Your father was a busy man with a full schedule, one he went out of his way to readjust for the impromptu meeting request. It would have been unreasonable to expect perfect punctuality, and the apology wasn’t necessary.

Still, you had one job, and it was to be nice.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Pantalone replied. “Your generous hospitality more than compensates for it.”

While being cordial was more of a chore with the often unpleasant and impatient businessmen your father associated with, you found Pantalone’s company an effortless task.

You weren’t sure of the exact reasons behind it, but your home was often used as a place for meetings and negotiations relating to your father’s work. You weren’t present for the discussions themselves, but you did greet and welcome every guest—something your dad was not fond of doing himself.

For someone who worked a job where conversation was important, talking was not one of your father’s strengths. Though he managed just fine when it came to business, small talk and pleasantries were burdensome activities for him, which is why you handled them instead.

It wasn’t like you particularly enjoyed talking about the weather which never deviated from cold, or listening to middle aged men complain about joint pain, but you disliked it significantly less than your dad did. If anything, you had a tendency to avoid matters of actual significance, preferring your meaningless exchanges over accountability.

Pantalone was just another one of your father’s many associates, but he visibly stood out from the rest. You didn’t know much about them, but you were confident that everyone you’ve greeted was in some way or another, a powerful dignitary.

But they were no Harbinger.

That fact alone was enough to separate Pantalone from every other person you’ve ever interacted with throughout your approximately two decades of lifespan. You didn’t know for sure, but you knew well enough that his wealth and power surpassed that of all your father’s clientele combined.

But that wasn’t what truly made him different.

Pantalone was a striking contrast to your father’s other associate; not just because he was a Harbinger, but rather he was the sole person you could consider a friend.

You hadn’t bothered making new friends after moving to Snezhnaya. There wasn’t any particular reason for it. Although confidentiality could qualify, you found yourself either occupied with your own hobbies or keeping your father company when he was actually home and not busy with work. Anything you desired was delivered directly to your residence, so you had no need to venture into the city and make small talk with the shopkeepers.

This meant your interactions were limited to your father and his associates, all of whom were as pruned and grey as him. The only exception was Pantalone, and though you didn’t know exactly how old he was—it would be rude to ask—he didn’t seem significantly older than you, both in appearance and mannerisms. At the very least, he didn’t possess the wrinkles and bitterness the others did.

At some point, you began looking forward to your interactions, which both preceded and succeeded Pantalone’s business meetings with your dad. While you still maintained an air of professionalism with you, your amity went beyond mere pleasantries.

As you led him down the wide hallways and cavernous rooms, you couldn’t help but ask the question that had been nagging at you since yesterday.

“Pantalone,” you broke the silence, “may I ask a question?”

“Of course, dear,” he replied.

“Today’s a Monday,” you stated, “and you were just here last Tuesday.” For as long as you remembered, Pantalone had a very specific schedule. Once every other week, every Tuesday, he’d visit. As far as you knew, never had he strayed from that schedule—not until now.

“Ah, as observant as ever, Y/N,” Pantalone remarked.

“And on such short notice too...” you continued, letting your words trail off before asking him directly, “Is something the matter?”

You stopped in front of your father’s study, turning the doorknob and allowing Pantalone in, before you let the door leisurely shut on its own behind you both.

“Oh, no, not at all. It’s just that business can be unpredictable at times—I’m sure you understand.” His tone was as carefree and relaxed as ever, but you were certain this was no trivial matter. However, it wasn’t your business, so you set aside your curiosity and didn’t push any further.

“You’re right,” you agreed. “I was just a bit worried that something was up. I’m glad to hear that everything’s fine.”

‘Worried’ was an exaggeration. While you did care about Pantalone, you had no reason to fret over his well being. It was unlikely that anyone or anything could pose a serious threat to him, ever—he was a Harbinger. Perhaps it was disingenuous for you to feign concern, but you thought it was a polite sentiment regardless.

All of your dad’s meetings, with all of his associates, were held in this room. It was furnished with this intent in mind; a well-lit room with a coffee table flanked by two sofas near the centre, encircled by a desk, a few china cabinets, and most importantly, a kitchenette.

“I didn’t know you cared so much, Y/N.” A teasing remark, as you should have expected. You watched as Pantalone sat down on the sofa with a smirk.

“Do I seem that heartless to you?” you prodded back.

“Quite the opposite. If anything, you have too much heart.” Your eyes widened ever so slightly, Pantalone’s reply catching you off guard—you didn’t expect him to answer so sincerely.

Despite your familiarity with conversation and flattery, you were usually the one to give compliments, not receive them.

“You’re flattering me. I’m not doing anything special,” you brushed it off awkwardly. You quickly turned towards the kitchenette to escape the topic. “Earl grey tea with cream and two sugar cubes?”

“Why, I’m flattered that you remember how I take my tea,” Pantalone said. You filled the kettle, waiting for the water to boil as you took out a teacup and saucer from the cabinet above you, along with tea leaves and an infuser. You opened the refrigerator beside you, retrieving a glass bottle of cream.

You weren’t sure how or when exactly it started, but you always had a fondness for tea. The shrubs themselves, the processing of the leaves, the plethora of varieties and tastes, the simple act of brewing tea—you adored it all. When you still lived in Fontaine, where the weather was warmer and vegetation was abundant, you would often tend to your imported Chenyu shrubs and curate the leaves yourself; something Snezhnaya’s harsh, frigid climate didn’t allow for.

Though you missed the extensiveness of your tea hobby in Fontaine, you found other ways to keep yourself occupied. The time you would have otherwise spent on picking leaves was now dedicated to baking. It was something your mother taught you from an early age, a craft you now spent time perfecting. After all, freshly baked goods were a perfect accompaniment to tea, and your father’s clients appreciated the assortment of delicacies.

It was an excuse to bake batches of pastries that you otherwise wouldn’t be able to finish if anything, but it was something everyone was happy with. The guests enjoyed your confectioneries, your father evaded vapid chit chat, and you baked to your heart’s content.

“I’ve made you tea every other week, ever since we’ve moved here,” you pointed out. “So about two and a half years. It’d be awfully rude if I didn’t remember your preferences by now.”

You earned a soft chuckle from Pantalone.

“Well, now I’m curious. What else do you remember about me?” he asked, the question making you gulp.

You did not have a good memory, and you were especially uncomfortable with being put on the spot, your brain oftentimes turning blank, forcing you to blurt out any nonsense to try and salvage whatever situation you were being put in. You tried to think of something to say so it wouldn’t be obvious that you couldn’t recall; that would be rude.

“Only your darkest secrets.” You fumbled with placing the dried leaves in the infuser.

“So you know her name then?” he interrogated, and of course you didn’t.

“Of course,” you declared with utmost confidence. “Full name, date of birth, medical records, everything.” You knew you were just digging yourself a deeper pit, but you had just poured the water and the tea wasn’t done steeping yet.

“And what about her death certificate?” he continued. You stirred the tea rapidly, pouring in just the right amount of cream alongside two sugar cubes, before picking it up and serving it with the plate of madeleines you had baked earlier.

“That’s included in the medical records.” You placed the tea down on the coffee table a bit too hard. You made sure to place the plate down more gently, as if to absolve yourself of embarrassment. “Here’s your tea. And of course, some madeleines I baked this morning.”

You sat down on the sofa across from him, awaiting his expression as he brought the teacup to his lips, sipping the beverage with elegance.

“It appears you really are as observant as ever,” he smiled with visible satisfaction.

“I’m observant when people are interesting,” you noted, relieved that the conversation had finally shifted.

“Is that so?” Pantalone put down the teacup. “Y/N, what about me do you find interesting?”

There were a plethora of things you found interesting about him, and you wondered if some of them would be too intrusive or direct to point out given his status, but promptly discarded the consideration.

“Well, for starters,” you said, “you’re a Harbinger.”

“Oh my,” Pantalone spoke with feigned surprise. “I nearly forgot!” He reached towards the plate, picking up one of your madeleines and taking a bite. You watched his face hungrily for validation, awaiting his judgement of your madeleines. Even though your confectioneries were never worse than satisfactory, you often liked to try new variations or entirely different recipes, taking note of any feedback from guests to further improve your skills.

“Wonderful baking as always, Y/N.” Pantalone’s words seemed to align with the pleased expression on his face, and you couldn’t help but grin, feeling proud of yourself.

“You know,” Pantalone started, bringing your attention back to the conversation, “such status can be quite cumbersome. People behave rather differently around you. It becomes hard to tell when such pleasantries and favours are coming from a place of genuine kindness, or somewhere else.”

The atmosphere suddenly dropped to a more solemn tone, startling you.

“Be that as it may, I’ve always felt at ease in your company. Contrary to popular opinion... us Harbingers aren’t all that different from everyone else, and I feel refreshingly ordinary in your presence.”

You listened to him attentively, musing over his sentences in your head to carefully formulate a response.

“Refreshingly ordinary...” you muttered. “I didn’t expect to hear that. If anything, you’re quite special to me. Regardless, I’m happy to hear that I’ve been pleasant company for you. The feeling is mutual.”

You finished speaking, a wistful smile on your face as you glanced downwards, the focus slipping from your gaze. While you and Pantalone had many conversations over the years, they primarily consisted of playful banter and idle chatter. Rarely would you be as pensive as you were now, and while sentimentality usually made you uncomfortable, you found yourself not minding it right now. Perhaps you were more lonely than you had originally considered, but you realized your words held more truth than expected.

Pantalone was someone special to you. There used to be others, too. When you still lived in Fontaine, you had close friends; people you deeply valued and cared for. But distance does not make the heart grow fonder. Distance simply meant the space between, and the space from Snezhnaya to Fontaine would parallel the growing disconnect between you and the ones you used to hold dear.

Everything in Teyvat had a limit to its elasticity, tangible or not. Things can only be stretched so far before the tension eventually causes it to sever. Emotional connection was no exception to that. Despite your agreements to continue writing one another and keep in contact, eventually the letters became fewer and longer between. The last time you had received a letter was about seven months ago.

People separate. People move on. It was only natural, and you had come to accept it. You had no idea what your former friends were doing now, but you were probably nothing more than a passing thought in their heads every once in a blue moon.

You didn’t often reminisce about them, either. But when you did, you would naturally ponder the idea of making new friends. Even though it would be wise to make an effort, you didn’t want to. Meeting new people, getting to know them, becoming as close to them as you were with your former friends—it was exhausting just to think about. You didn’t want to bother yourself with something so tedious.

But since Pantalone had been routinely visiting for the past few years, your attachment to him inevitably grew without you even realizing it.

Your rumination was interrupted by the sound of heavy, pounding footsteps rapidly approaching.

“Oh,” you said, “it seems like my father’s—”

“—Oh, Lord Pantalone, please forgive the delay!” The door flung wide open, your father rushing into the room. “Such tardiness in the face of a Harbinger is unacceptable and—”

“—Please, it’s all right, F/N,” Pantalone tried to calm your very much frantic father. “I was enjoying a lovely conversation over tea with your daughter just now and—”

“—No, no, no! This will not do!” your father declared. “You must be impossibly busy with work! We should discuss business as soon as possible—Y/N, you may take your leave now while we discuss urgent matters!”

You were halfway through getting up when Pantalone spoke.

“Well, actually, F/N, the reason I requested this meeting was because I wanted to speak with you regarding your daughter.”

What?

Your head snapped towards Pantalone, the rest of your body still frozen in an awkward motion between standing and sitting, your eyes wide with shock and mild horror.

You weren’t sure if you had heard him right or not. But judging by the similarly surprised look on your dad’s face, you likely heard him correctly.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t ever thought of Pantalone as attractive. His elegantly styled black hair was smooth and silky—or at least it appeared so, you never ran your fingers through it—and his skin was radiant, fair as porcelain, his amethyst irises embellished with full sets of ebony lashes, sitting behind intricate silver glasses that framed his gracefully poised face just right.

However, you had never thought of anything beyond that. Not only were you unsure about how old he was—he could be twice your age, for Archons’s sakes—he was also your dad’s business associate, and you weren’t sure how your dad would feel about that, though you supposed you’d find out soon.

“Uh,” your dad stumbled over his own words, “Lord Pantalone... are you sure you want to, uh, discuss such matters with Y/N present?”

“Why, of course, F/N,” Pantalone replied, completely nonchalant. Your eyes darted between him and your father, the two of them wearing completely opposite expressions.

“Uhh,” your dad gibbered awkwardly, “are you sure you want to discuss such matters with me present?” You could see that he, too, was looking back and forth at the both of you in a futile attempt to grasp the situation. He was presumably contemplating the prospect of anything having happened between the two of you. The thought alone was enough to fluster you, and you were just thinking of how to explain that no, you were not and had not been sleeping with his business partner, when Pantalone spoke again.

“Oh, Archons, no, it’s nothing like that, please don’t misunderstand!” he exclaimed, his statement sending you into a brand new state of confusion. “I merely want your daughter to spy on Dottore.”

“I’m sorry, what?” you interjected, evident disbelief in your voice. You didn’t need to look at your dad to know he was even more disturbed than you, considering how he was at a loss for words.

“You see, it has recently come to my attention that Dottore is plotting something rather unfavourable to the Tsaritsa,” Pantalone elaborated, though you weren’t sure whether his explanation was helping or worsening the situation. “As a Harbinger, it is my duty to ensure her safety, and as Dottore’s closest associate, I’m in a most advantageous position to do so. Alas, I am but one man, so some assistance would be incredibly helpful.”

While the initial misconception was already difficult to process, the clarification was even more incomprehensible. You were stunned, unable to formulate any coherent thoughts until your dad managed to snap out of his stupor.

“You want my daughter to spy on Il Dottore? Forgive me, Lord Pantalone, but are you daft? How the hell is she supposed to do that? She is a child!” Despite its irrelevance to the situation, you couldn’t help a spark of irritation rising up at his words. You scowled, but put your annoyance aside for now, for there were more pressing matters at hand. Your father was becoming agitated, so you made an attempt to assuage the tension.

“...It’s fine,” you said, straightening up as you turned towards the Harbinger. “Pantalone, could you please elaborate?”

“Well, you see, I need someone whom I know and trust, that Dottore doesn’t know, but can come to trust,” he asserted. “I need someone new, unassuming, but not entirely unfamiliar. Someone who can keep a secret and find a secret. Who better than the daughter of the magnificent F/N?”

From an outside perspective, it was easy to make the assumption that you were knowingly assisting your father in keeping his clandestine activities concealed. Most people likely thought that, but it’d be incorrect.

Truthfully, your role in your father’s work was limited to greeting associates and serving them tea, along with any freshly baked goods you had made. Of course, you knew that your father wasn’t the most noble of men, considering his clientele—the Harbinger on your sofa being a perfect example—but that was the extent of your knowledge, and you preferred to keep it that way. You knew it made you apathetically recreant, but it was much easier to stay unaware and turn a blind eye to his questionable doings. You would keep yourself uninvolved in his business, hiding under your security blanket of willful ignorance.

The exact shelter that Pantalone was trying to coax you out of.

“Well, okay, sure, but—” your dad tried to protest.

“—And as a token of my gratitude,” Pantalone furthered,

“I would bring M/N back to life.”

next chapter soon... any interactions are appreciated (´･ω･`) thank you very much for supporting my work! ♡

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