#regrator/reader

[glimmeringtwilight]

Gilded Cage (Part Three)

ok. i'm not going to try to come up with a clever name for this one, this is just. part three. please send an ask or a DM if I missed any CW's! been a while.

Pairing(s): Dottore/Reader, Pantalone/Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

CW: NSFW, drugging (painkillers and other ment), rough sex, biting, threats of mutilation (mild. but it's Dottore), yandere themes, noncon/dubcon, AFAB reader, overstimulation, humiliation

Dottore has been on edge lately. 

You can tell. You can see it in his jaw when he’s sedating you as you lie on the operating table, eyes burning and dark as he stares through you at something presumably only he can see. You can see it in the way his hand sometimes twitches slightly– which bodes terribly for you– as he makes a small incision into your thigh, or your stomach, or your arm.

Most of the time, you think he just cuts into you simply because he can. Because he likes to watch the blood welling from the wound, dripping down your skin. He’s been doing it a lot more lately, sometimes forgetting to sedate you, sometimes forgetting to give you something for the pain, sometimes cutting too deep.

It feels like there’s a storm brewing that you can’t see; curtains drawn so you can’t look out the window and see the magnitude, brace yourself for wind or rain.  

His clones seem to be affected by it, too; usually it’s only ever the younger clones of his that lash out, but even the supposedly older ones are starting to show signs of agitation. You haven’t seen the same test subject twice in what feels like weeks. All of them seem to enter and leave the lab only once– something that should horrify you more than it does, whenever you watch them wheeling the covered bodies past. 

It’s this way for weeks. Dottore stalks around his lab like a harbinger of death, practically oozing poison and malice despite the deceptively calm mask he dons. 

You find out what it is that’s been agitating him when he opens the door to your cell one morning. Not a clone. Not the occasional trembling Fatuus. Him. His eyes burn into you. You can’t make out the emotion in them, but the complete coolness in his expression makes your stomach sink. You wonder, briefly, if he’s going to finally kill you– would that be a mercy, at this point? Killing you? Perhaps not. Knowing him, he’d draw it out. Make it hurt. 

Still, despite the terror that curls its fingers around your throat, you follow him quietly out of the cell and into the lab, staring at the back of his head as you walk and wishing you could read minds so you could at least brace yourself for whatever this is.

The two of you enter the lab and you finally realize what it is that’s crawled under Dottore’s skin, sat at the desk in the corner as though he’s not terribly out of place in the sterile environment. 

Pantalone sits comfortably in one of the chairs near the desk Dottore rarely seems to use, smiling as though he’s received a warm welcome and a parade. Dottore, meanwhile, looks palpably annoyed as he strides past the banker and takes a seat behind the desk, motioning for you to follow. 

It’s… Intensely uncomfortable, to say the least. You rarely find yourself sitting at Dottore’s desk, considering the doctor usually prefers to be conducting experiments rather than sitting and compiling data; he usually delegates that to his clones, who bitch and moan about the boring task. 

So sitting in a chair, next to the two men who’ve each held you captive at different points, as Dottore practically radiates anger… You don’t know what to do. You fold your hands in your lap, avoiding looking at either one, even as you can feel the two of them just… staring. 

You feel like you’re under a microscope, worse than any other time before when you’d been laid out on the operating table under Dottore’s invasive prodding.

Pantalone speaks first, breaking the charged silence. 

“I take it you don’t mind if I verify that this one’s real,” He says, rising from his chair and smiling at the way Dottore visibly bristles. “After all, I’m paying for this, aren’t I? I deserve that much.”

It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about you, and the demeaning way in which he’s referring to you as though you’re some object that might be counterfeit is both unnerving and irritating. You’re careful not to let it show on your face as Pantalone approaches you. 

“What-” You start to ask, but you’re swiftly interrupted by gloved fingers prying open your mouth, prodding around in search of something that isn’t there. You feel them press down on your tongue, ghost over molars, then press against the back of your throat until you gag. 

Somewhat satisfied, the banker pulls his fingers from your mouth and grips your chin firmly with a now-damp glove, turning your head this way and that and ignoring the obvious discomfort painted on your features as the action smears drool on your skin. What is he doing?

You shoot a glance towards Dottore, who is still just watching. He’s obviously pissed– you can see a vein popping in his forehead, belaying his anger on his otherwise blank face. 

Pantalone lets go of your chin in favor of grabbing you by the arms, pulling you up from your chair and motioning for you to spin around in a circle. You do, though you’re still confused, unsure of what’s happening as the banker seems to be appraising you like a precious gem. It’s a different type of poking and prodding than Dottore’s usual tests and checkups, but it’s invasive nonetheless. It’s doubly unsettling that this is the first time you’ve seen the banker without his usual smarmy smile. 

Hands find your shoulders and stop you again, and you bristle when they trace the curve of your spine, exposed thanks to the open back of the hospital gown. You feel them stop, tap something just to the left of one of your vertebrae, and Pantalone spins you back around to face him, clearly pleased. 

You try not to flinch when he takes a lock of your hair in his hands– it’s gotten so long since you’d been brought back to the lab– and brings it closer to his face. His nose crinkles, palpable disgust on his features, and he mutters something about “that vile soap he makes you use”– likely referring to Dottore– before turning around to face the man in question. 

“Are you done ogling?” Dottore asks, his tone clipped. You can’t see him around the banker, but you’re sure he still looks as pissed as before. 

Pantalone tilts his head slightly, smiling, then glances over his shoulder at you. “Perhaps not yet, but I’m satisfied enough for now. You’ll get the funding for your little… project, and I expect to see this one at my doorstep every other month from now on.”

Every other month? You frown. Is this some sort of… custody arrangement that the two men worked out? You don’t know if you want to laugh or not at the absurdity of it all; like you’re the unfortunate child of two divorced bastards, except this is much, much worse.

“Fine,” Dottore grits out, in a tone that suggests it’s anything but. He gets up to shoo the banker out of his lab, but Pantalone merely tuts and makes his way back over to where you’re standing, confused, and rests one hand heavily on your shoulder.

“One month starting today, of course,” Pantalone continues, “It’s only fair, after all, when you’ve been hoarding my poor pet this whole time. I have to make up for lost time, after all.”

He delivers those words with a smile that only seems to irritate Dottore further, red eyes boring holes into him as Dottore visibly seems to be contemplating murder. Pantalone speaks up again before he does anything, however, offering a hollow consolation: “Of course, I’m not cruel. How about a farewell? A parting gift, to… tide you over while they’re gone?”

You don’t like the sound of that, and Dottore seems to pick up on the banker’s suggestion as you’re spun around once more and ushered towards the exam table you’ve become intimately familiar with for the last several months. 

For this supposedly being Dottore’s “parting gift,” Pantalone is awfully remiss to keep his hands– and commentary– to himself. 

“Ah, what a cute noise that was,” You hear him coo, a finger tapping your nose with just enough force to startle you so you flinch, “Don’t you think you’re being a bit rough though, Doctor?”

“Quiet.”

You jostle against the table, gripping the edge of it for support as hips snap into yours with bruising force. Dottore’s fingers are gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave bruises– that’s probably the point, honestly; he’s fucking you like he intends for you to feel it for the entire month you’ll be absent. 

Pantalone’s comments aren’t helping things either; despite the banker’s comment about roughness, it only seems to have encouraged the doctor to go even harder. 

Thankfully, you were given something for the pain, but not from Dottore. Pantalone had pressed a pill into your gasping mouth when Dottore had started, telling you that you were going to need it, and though swallowing was a struggle, you’re glad he did. 

Dull pain and sharp pleasure mingle together, and you’ve long since lost track of the orgasms that have been dragged out of you. You’re starting to numb, honestly, overstimulation bleeding into pain, and you gasp into the table with every sharp thrust into you. 

“Tsk– don’t pass out now,” Pantalone chides, fingers curling around your jaw and biting into your cheeks when your eyes threaten to flutter shut, and Dottore snarls something about cutting your spinal cord if you do; something you sincerely hope is an empty threat, given the black spots dancing in your vision. “You still have another thirty minutes to go.”

You don’t remember there being a timer set, much less a time limit, but you certainly know you can’t last that much longer. Your knees have already long since given out, and Dottore had to hoist you up further onto the table so he could continue, leaving your feet dangling a few inches above the ground. 

You feel weight against your back, heat, smothering you as Dottore leans down to sink his teeth into your shoulder as he spills inside you once more, and you shudder through another weak orgasm in response, your eyes rolling back and your vision blacking out for several long moments. 

Pantalone shakes you back awake before you can slip too far, and you sob as Dottore starts to move again. You already know that you won’t be able to walk for the next few days, if not for the next week. 

Tears blur your vision, the world spinning around you as a gloved hand comes to rest against your head, petting you in what’s likely intended as a comforting gesture but only seems to frazzle you further, overwhelmed and overstimulated as you are. 

It must be Pantalone, because Dottore lets out an irritated noise, sinking his teeth into your skin to leave a new mark as he resumes the harsh pace he’d set earlier. Another hand, this one not gloved, curls around your throat to dig two fingers into your racing pulse as he tries to engrave himself into your flesh through means slightly less violent than cutting you open. 

You can barely keep track of who’s doing what– your vision is too blurred and you’re too far gone to fully piece together a coherent thought before it and the breath are knocked out of you by another snap of Dottore’s hips. One of them reaches down to rub circles into sensitive nerves, and you sob as another climax is ripped unwillingly out of you. 

You black out for longer this time, shaken awake once more by Pantalone. He’s cooing something at you that you can’t make out, drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears and the sound of Dottore’s ragged breaths mixing in with your own. 

It feels like you’re burning up, shivering weakly under Dottore’s crushing weight as the man seems to be pouring every ounce of frustration into his thrusts, and darkness encroaches on the corners of your vision with every movement. 

Another shuddering orgasm. You twitch weakly through it, your body registering the sensation more than your mind does. 

The world seems to tip, swaying like a vessel rocked by choppy waves before finally capsizing. Your vision goes, and you’re pulled into a sea of static. 

It smells like lilacs. 

It’s the first thing you notice when you slowly come to, a stark contrast to the smell of bleach and copper that you’ve become accustomed to. You’re also dressed in some proper clothes– or rather, ”proper,” compared to the usual paper-thin hospital gowns you’ve worn since being brought back to the lab. 

Opening your eyes, you’re greeted with the familiar luxuries you remember seeing when you were last in Pantalone’s care, and the sight would nearly be a relief if consciousness didn’t bring with it the unbearable ache in every inch of your body. There’s a budding headache building behind your temples, stinging pains from various bites and bruises littering your skin like brands.

It aches most between your legs, but there’s an ache in your thighs and your stomach like you’d pulled every muscle within; you probably did, honestly, but you try to push back the memory invading your thoughts and you sit up in bed. 

“You’re awake,” A silky voice drawls from behind you just as you sit up, and you turn around to see Pantalone sitting in an armchair in the corner, one leg folded over the other as he reads a book. He doesn’t look up as he addresses you; he just pats his knee, indicating he expects you to come to him. You’re not sure you can walk…

Climbing out of the soft bed hurts, various muscles protesting the movement, and you’re not surprised when your knees give out on you the second you rest your weight on your feet. Pantalone simpers at you from where he sits, amused, but he makes no move to help you stand up or walk. He just pats his thigh again, smiling at you. 

“I can’t walk,” Even talking hurts, evidenced by the crackling of your voice when you speak. 

“Then crawl.”

He says it so simply, as though you should have already known the answer. Your ears burn with humiliation. You don’t move.

“Don’t make me punish you on your first day back,” He says, setting his book down so he can properly address you. His tone is disappointed, but you don’t miss the way the bastard’s smile widens at the idea. 

Pantalone’s punishments aren’t nearly as severe as Dottore’s are, at least in terms of pain. Rather than physical punishments, he seems to prefer humiliation. You’re tempted to try your luck, but… everything hurts. You don’t want him to decide you haven’t earned the privilege of clothes– or find something equally humiliating and degrading– on top of the pain you’re already in.

Crawling hurts. Every muscle protests the movement, yet again, but you force yourself to ignore the aches, to ignore the humiliation burning beneath your skin at being made to crawl over to him. 

When you finally reach him you sit up unsteadily so you can climb into his lap, but you’re surprised when he stops you by pressing a gloved hand firmly against your head to keep you planted on your knees in front of him. 

Instead of addressing your confusion, Pantalone merely smiles and takes hold of your wrist, raising your arm to inspect the scars and bruises littering your skin from the months spent under Dottore’s care. His face twists with disgust, shifting into faux sympathy when he addresses you again, “Poor thing. Look what he’s done to you…”

His free hand comes to rest on his knee as he straightens up, uncrossing his legs, and you hear a steady tap tap tap as he drums his index finger against his knee thoughtfully. “Aren’t you glad I’ve brought you back from that wretched place?”

It’s a leading question. You know he expects you to answer correctly, and you get the sense he’s leading into something; a demand. “...Yes.”

“I knew you would be.” He says, dropping your wrist and leaning back comfortably in the armchair. He looks down at you, clearly pleased with the position you’re in. He props one elbow against the arm of the chair, resting his head in his hand as he smiles down at you. “Why don’t you be a good pet and show me just how appreciative you are?”

The implication isn’t lost on you, but whatever hope you’d had that he might mean something else is dashed as he spreads his legs slightly further apart to make room for you between them, and you don’t miss the growing bulge in his dress pants. 

Your hands are numb as you reach for his belt, and you barely flinch when his hand rests heavily against the back of your hand as you take him into your mouth. 

One cage for another. You’re not even sure you’re relieved, because every part of you still aches from the reminders Dottore had left you with. 

His hand presses against the back of your head, guiding you to take him further into your mouth, and you struggle to breathe around his length. You nearly gag as he pushes you down further, pushing back in resistance, and Pantalone clicks his tongue in disappointment but thankfully, lets up. Maybe he doesn’t want to ruin his pants. 

“I’ll get you something for the scarring,” He murmurs, fingers curling in your hair as you bob your head up and down his length. “And those garish bruises.”

Whether it’s an insult towards you or Dottore, you’re not sure. You try not to focus on it, instead focusing on the task at hand. You lave your tongue along the base of his shaft, earning a small shiver and a heady sigh from him. 

He’s silent for a few minutes as you continue to pleasure him, but you feel him boring holes into the top of your head. You don’t look up at him; you don’t want to. You’re trying to get this over with, and hoping that his silence means you’re doing well. 

The hand on the top of your head leaves, and you flinch when you feel him trace his fingers over one of the scabbed over bites left by Dottore, nearly biting down in surprise. You swallow, suppress the urge, resuming your pace even as he traces the outline of every bite left littered along your neck, your collarbone, your shoulders.

Pantalone straightens up a little, pressing his hand against the back of your head again to force you to take more than you already can. This time, he doesn’t relent when you push back, just holding his hand still until you stop whimpering and you manage to swallow back the urge to gag. 

“Hush.” He tells you in response to your muffled noises, groaning quietly at the way your throat vibrates around his cock.

You eventually relax, eventually get used to the feeling, and he lets you pull back slightly before he’s pressing down again, repeating until tears are spilling down your cheeks as you struggle not to reflexively bite down each time you gag slightly around his length. 

“How would you feel about something… permanent?” He asks, and his fingers are tracing the bites again. You try to pull back to answer, but his other hand stops you and he rocks his hips lazily into your mouth. A rhetorical, then; he doesn’t care for your answer.

You try to blink back your tears as you resume the pace you’d set, sucking lightly on his cock as his hand curls into your hair. It’s hard to focus on what he’s saying as his hand keeps threatening to force you down farther than you can take, and you’re focusing on stamping down the swelling nausea. 

“Something- hm-” He hums, and you can tell he’s getting close now, with the way his breathing is starting to deepen, his hand tightening its hold on your hair- “something tasteful. Not like those eyesores he leaves you. A collar is- fuck- too… too easy to remove.”

You don’t like where this is going, but humming your dissent only earns you a pleasured hiss and a rumble of praise spilling from his lips before he’s curling his fingers around the back of your neck. 

It’s the only warning you get before he shoves your head down, holding you there as cum spills into your mouth and down your throat. It takes everything in you to relax your jaw, and you pull back gasping and sputtering the second he relents.

By the time your vision clears and you blink back the tears spilling from your eyes, he’s already tucked himself back into his pants and is just watching you struggle to catch your breath. He doesn’t even comment on the mess of cum and drool that spilled from your lips onto the floor. 

It takes you a second to realize he’s not staring at you, but rather at the marks left on your skin. 

After a minute of tense silence, he smiles again, patting his lap this time in invitation for you to sit, and you ignore the familiar sting of humiliation as you obey. Again, one of his hands curls around the nape of your neck, tracing some pattern into your skin. 

“Right here,” He murmurs, though he doesn’t elaborate when your brows pinch together in confusion.

It takes you a second to realize he’s tracing invisible letters across your nape, then another few to realize it’s his name that he’s tracing into your skin. 

Something tells you that Dottore isn't going to be pleased to see you again at the end of the month.

[satinroses]

Night Time Routines

How the harbingers and their darlings ready for bed

Yan! Harbingers x reader (separate)

Feat: Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone and Scaramouche

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: “honk shoooo honk shoooo” - capitano, “zzzzz zzzz” - Pantalone, “honk mi mi mi” - Scaramouche, dottore’s doesn’t snore but he does speak in fluent sentences in his sleep and it’s terrifying. thank you for coming to my ted talk. also yes i made scaras pretty purple eyes light up like ei’s when she’s using her skill, the more raiden parallels the better in my opinion

Warnings: 5.3 archon quest spoilers, Yandere behaviours, i have likely not proof read this as well as i should have so i apologise for any mistakes, dark themes, some mentions of NSFW themes but no actual smut, being robbed of making choices, they all have serious control issues

Capitano:

Capitano has struggled with sleep for centuries now, he hopes you take no offence when he doesn’t join you at night however he would never wish to make you feel neglected. The primary reason he stole you away was to could ensure that you are treated with the dignity and adoration that befits someone of your character.

If your hair is long enough then he takes great care in braiding it every night. You’re surprised that a man of his stature is able to manoeuvre his fingers so nimbly through your hair. If braids aren’t your style or they simply wouldn’t work with your hair then he patiently awaits your instruction. Whether you want a bun, a ponytail or simply for your hair to flow freely he will diligently do as you command.

Although some aspects of your night routine may resemble that of Pantalone’s darling, Capitano doesn’t force you to abide by any particular routines. As long as you get enough rest he doesn’t mind if you spend every evening huddled in the library, just please allow him to sit with you as you read, nothing would bring him greater pleasure.

Despite the first harbinger being unable to sleep due to the constant burden of the tormented souls upon him, he does find comfort in the domesticity partaking in your nightly routines affords him. Watching your eyes flutter shut, hearing the words that slip out of your mouth leaving him to guess what you could possibly be dreaming about, watching over you when you are at your most defenceless.

He finds it utterly endearing to see you in this state. His heart feels much lighter the first night you fall asleep in his presence. He understands you may hold some resentment towards him for stealing you away from your home and the life you knew yet he is able to find hope in the vulnerability your behaviour shows. Being in your most docile and helpless form around him must surely mean you hold some form of trust for him. Trust is something he can work with, he’s certain now that he can cultivate this small piece of trust that you’ve extended to him from a sapling into a flourishing bloom and in time, perhaps you’ll forgive him for the selfish decision he made. He was utterly mindless and inconsiderate when he took you with him, against your will. Every day he lives with the shame of stealing you and yet... watching over you as you lay in his sheets, he cannot bring himself to regret it.

He shuts his eyes and listens to the rhythm of your breaths, a symphony that brings him nothing but relief. The knowledge that you were resting peacefully by his side invigorates him far more than slumber ever could.

After some time passes and he truly believes you are warming up to him in spite of everything, he might slip into your bed (with your permission of course). He’s unsure what to do at first, so overwhelmed with your closeness and warmth but as you begin to drift into a dreamscape, he allows his hands to wander slightly (but never anywhere inappropriate, despite how desperately he might crave your body he would never force you to do anything that might dishonour you). The body heat that emanates from you brings him immeasurable comfort as he forgets about the pain of the abyssal rot ravaging his body, instead focusing on the softness of your skin on his.

To feel you against him, your body tucked against his, it brings comfort that settles deep in his bones, not even the heavenly principles nor the curse that eats away at his flesh could strip it from him. For the first time in 500 years he remembers what its like to have a home.

Dottore:

You have the misfortune of having spent more time alone with Dottore than anyone else in Teyvat. In spite of his near constant presence, you had never once see him or any of his clones go to sleep. Once every few months you’ll catch him with his eyes shut and hunched over his desk, you assume he has finally drifted off but then mere seconds later his eyes will shoot open and his hands resume tinkering with whatever (or whoever) has had the misfortune of piquing his interest.

Prior to eliminating his clones he often used them as lab assistants, citing that the only person who he could trust to fulfil his work to the measure of perfection he demanded was himself. As the sun began to set whichever of his clones had the least to do would be charged with escorting you from his laboratory in the cellars of Zapolyarny palace to your shared estate. Much to Dottore’s annoyance, he swears that as the moon begins to rise, the segments begins to rush to finish their tasks in hopes of being the one to escort you home.

From early morning to night time you are forced to remain wherever Dottore is however he understands you are only human (for the time being, however he has plans to change that) and you require rest so he allows you to go home and sleep with the caveat that a segment remains by your side as he repeats a similar sentiment as he did earlier, that being the only man he would ever trust with your safety is himself.

Upon prime having to destroy the clones he is visibly on edge despite his dismissals when you try to enquire about it. It’s evident to you that without having the security of his segments watching over you he is tense. He now forbids you from going home, even with a platoon of Fatui guarding you, he has made far too many enemies to count over the years, he isn’t foolish enough to entrust your safety to some lackeys that even the eleventh could carve through with ease.

Much to your dismay he also states that he cannot take so much time away from his experiments to tend to your slumber and that from now on you will be sleeping in the laboratory.

It doesn’t take much exertion for his brilliant mind for him to deduce that you are not thrilled at this development.

After a few days of complaining he finally cracks. You seem to find a fault with every aspect of his laboratory.

”I’m uncomfortable”

”My back hurts”

”It’s too loud”

”It’s too bright”

”It’s too hot”

“It’s too cold”

”This pillow is lumpy”

”I can feel you staring at me”

It drives him mad. His next experiment will be on your voice, he has to test his hypothesis that there is something particular about your voice, perhaps it’s the tone or the pitch but whenever you speak he can’t help but grant you his full attention.

He prides himself on his resilience but for you he has always been quick to crack. Seeing you in such a bad mood puts him in a bad mood. Suddenly his patience has been shortened exponentially, the screams of his patients grind on his nerves far too quickly, leading to many experiments being cut short.

The following morning you will see two anemo skirmishers setting down a large object covered in a dust sheet in the far corner of the laboratory. You raise your question to Dottore, asking what it is. Only then does he set down his tools, a tiny smirk blooms across his face as he takes your hand in his and leads you across the room before lifting the sheet off the object and looking at you expectantly.

It was a single bed with plain white sheets and a single pillow. It was hardly exuberant but for Dottore to even show any form of regard for the discomfort of any living being was nothing short of a miracle.

If you ask him what prompted this his voice will grow venomous as he bites out that your endless complaints were a hindrance to his experiments but you see the self-satisfied sneer on his face as he soaks in your gratitude.

Admittedly you do still have to endure the screams of those unfortunate enough to end up strapped to the operating table as he refuses to allow you any form of noise cancellation lest he needs you for something (he never has but you’re sure he just doesn’t want to give you any avenues for ignoring him), at least you can keep your head staunchly under your pillow for whatever small form of muting the cries that it's able to provide.

Pantalone:

In spite of your resentment for Pantalone you could not deny the morbid interest you had in watching him go about his day. As an outsider you couldn’t shrug the pervasive feeling that had settled in your mind that his whole day seemed to be more of an elaborate routine rather than a man naturally progressing through the day.

Every paper, painting and plate had a specific place in his life and that was how Pantalone preferred it. One night at dinner you had made note of it and he had let out a rare chuckle as he gazed at you from across the grand mahogany dinner table. He put down his utensils before taking a moment to stare down at his hands, twisting the rings back into place so that the gemstones on them rested perfectly on his fingers, glimmering just right in the light before he acknowledged that perhaps some people might agree that he can be a little particular.

From the moment he had taken you into his home, he made sure that you too fit into his routine as flawlessly as everything else. He had expectations that you would meet if you knew what was good for you. Throughout the day his routine never once relaxed and as such, neither did yours. From the moment dinner ends he has you on a schedule that he had devoted hours to ensure it would allow you to fit into his schedule as perfectly as he wants you to. Like a ballerina wound up in a jewellery box, you would pirouette seamlessly to whichever melody he desired and you only move when he winds your cogs, never before.

Once you rise from the dinner table and he returns to his study, you are taken directly to your shared chambers with Pantalone by your ladies maids. In the porcelain tub within the en-suite sits a pool of hot water, still steaming with heat. Standing there awkwardly with only a silk robe wrapped around you as maids flutter in and out of the room. You stay rocking on the balls of your feet until at last the head maid returns, with her she carries a silver tray upon which rests several different bottles of fragrant oils and soaps to add to your bath.

Perhaps if you had been a little less perceptive you would believe this to be one of the areas in your life in which he allows some leniency but that is not the case. You are certain beyond all measure that each and every scent has gotten his approval before being presented to you. Maybe you should be thankful for this small illusion of choice but it only makes the reality of you situation sting in your tear ducts.

As you smell each one the head maid takes great enthusiasm in telling you the elaborate backstory for each and every bottle. Although its her voice speaking, you can hear his words.

The violet grass scent that had been acquired from the very highest point of Liyue’s immense mountain scape lending to it’s powdery floral notes being far more potent that before.

The sakura bloom oil had been extracted from a handful of petals that had been struck by the Shogun’s own divine lightning lending to it’s typical sweet smell having a bright undertone. You couldn’t stand that oil, you swore every time you applied it, it tingled.

The glaze Lilly that this oil had been diffused from had allegedly only bloomed when an adeptus descended from her abode in Jueyun Karst to serenade the flower and coaxing it into opening its petals. Supposedly its scent was so delicate and intoxicating that everyone who smelt it wept tears of joy. You didn’t think it smelt much different than any other glaze Lilly.

After a dozen more being presented to you, each with its own elaborate origins you simply grabbed the bottle closest to you on the tray, not caring which. They all smelt far too similar to care.

Since the day you were taken he had insisted that there was no price too high for his beloved. Perhaps he thinks you find his gifts romantic, instead you can’t help but laugh bitterly at the irony of your bathing products being better travelled than you are.

After nearly an hour of several maids scrubbing you from head to toe (when you had originally arrived you had refused their help however once Pantalone caught wind of this he had punished the maids for it. You had pleaded with him that it was your own fault for refusing their help and to please not punish them for your actions. He smiled gently, thanking you for your honesty before pressing a gently kiss to your forehead yet he said nothing about pardoning the maids, dismissing you at every mention of it. You had an entirely different group of maids tending to you the following morning and every subsequent morning after that).

After leaving the bath and drying off, you were dressed in a night gown. They were undoubtedly the worst part of the night, although they were beautiful they were also covered in itchy lace with necklines too deep and hems too short for the Snezhnayan winter.

After being dressed you would sit down at your vanity and methodically brush your hair with the gifts he had gotten you from Mondstadt: a boar bristle brush with a silver handle (he claimed the bristles were from a mighty bore sovereign native to Dragonspine) and a Dragon bone comb (he also had this made in Dragonspine, the bone acquired from the skeleton of Durin, the comb was a sturdy bone that no matter what always stayed warm).

Finally you would lie in bed and wait for your husband. If he decides to join you then you can slip gently into your dreams, the one place where you can forget about the heavy arm latched around your waist and the fingers tangled in your hair. On more unfortunate nights, he would not join you in your shared chambers, instead he would expect you to come to him. Shuffling sleepily through dark corridors until you finally reached the tall doors of his study. Your knuckle barely grazes the wood before the door swings open and he offers you a gentle smile before wrapping his arm around your waist and coaxing you in.

If you were lucky a few well-placed tender kisses to his neck would persuade him to abandon his work and join you in bed however some nights he would have you sat on his lap until the sun rose. Those nights you rarely slept well as you had to deal with his mutterings, the candle light illuminating the room and the way he adjusted you on his lap. If you were lucky you could shut your eyes and feign sleep when you felt something hard growing beneath you, other nights he was insistent on your participation.

Scaramouche:

Throughout the countless waking hours you’ve spent in unwilling solitude with the sixth harbinger you were hardly surprised at the revelation that his sour attitude persists far past the sunset and well into the moonlit hours. If anything his annoyance only grew the closer you crept to retiring for the night.

Having no knowledge of his marionette body’s ability to endure without sleep, you couldn’t disguise your discomfort the first night you shared his bed and his lilac eyes stayed glued to you all night, their vibrant hue glowing in the dark of your chambers. You could see the dim purple light in the room, even through your eyelids. His illuminated eyes wouldn’t move from your face as you rested. It doesn’t matter how often you late in the night you might wake up or how often you squint through your half-closed eyes at him, Scaramouche’s gaze stays fixed intently on you from the moment you pull the blankets over your shoulders.

Should you somehow develop a fondness for your captor you will quickly learn that in spite of his feelings for you, he is not an attentive or affectionate man. Scaramouche scoffs at the proposal of ‘cuddling’. He spits out that he will not entertain such pathetic displays of fondness, not even for you. The firm tenor in his voice makes you believe that there is no room for negotiation on the matter, however from that night onwards, his hand remains fixed tightly around your wrist the moment you retire under the covers with him.

One particularly irritating trait about Scaramouche is his insistence that you never turn away from him, many times your awoken by a set of firm hands clamped down on your shoulders as they turn you around in the bed, back to facing him. While you are both waking and sleeping he refuses to allow you to turn your back to him, you’re unsure as to why and frankly you’re not certain you wish to know. There are aspects of your captor's past that you're undoubtedly influence his current actions yet you do not wish to learn such things, not yet.

On exceptionally rare occasions, oftentimes after an intimate night of gently unwinding with him, removing his clothing with all the attentiveness he has expected to be synonymous with being the wife of the sixth harbinger. Brush your lips gently over his skin with a tenderness in your touch he hasn’t felt since… he can’t recall. After several hours in each others passionate embrace, Scaramouche may fall into a restless slumber. You may initially find this rare period of sleep from him to be enjoyable however it opens the gateway to a version of Scaramouche you may find yourself unfamiliar with.

The first night Scaramouche falls asleep in your presence, you soon understand his disdain for sleep. The whimpers and cries that escape the balladeer are completely uncharacteristic for him. You had never heard his voice assume any tone beyond a haughty drawl or an intimidating bark, you almost didn’t recognise it was Scaramouche speaking until a familiar word escaped his throat.

”Y/N...”

It was undoubtedly the balladeer speaking however his voice had been fragile and light as he spoke your name, as though saying it too harshly would cause it to shatter.

”Y/N… come back, please…”

“please...” he had whispered out and the word sounded almost foreign on his tongue. Until now you had assumed the word didn’t even exist in the harbingers vocabulary. His sleep only seemed to worsen. You sat up, unsure whether you should wake him or not. His gentle murmurs were slowly growing louder and more desperate. You watched as his sleeping form writhed across the bed, his arms fully extended as his fingers clenched and unclenched, grasping and pawing at the bedsheets.

You slowly nudged yourself closer to him, preparing to wake him from whatever nightmares was plaguing him until his hand brushed against your night clothes. Suddenly his fist clenched tightly around your waist as he yanked your body impossibly closer, curling around you.

The following morning he untangled his limbs from yours before quickly scurrying out of the room. His gaze never met yours but from the chaste kiss and the way his eyes refused to look up from the ground… you swore he almost seemed embarrassed, his demeanour suiting that of a pouting child rather than an agent of destruction.

As you opened the bedroom doors not long after his departure, the stench of sizzled flesh wafted through the corridors. Some poor Fatuus were now paying the price in blood for Scaramouche’s humiliation as they were demoted from subordinates to the punching bags for him to unleash his rage on. The part of himself that he had buried so deeply, shrouded in layer and layer of bitterness and rage, had exposed itself to your discerning gaze and his mortification was suffocating him.

If he were a weaker man perhaps the humiliation would have brought tears to his eyes but he was stronger than the mewling little wretch he used to be. Like forging a sword, he had beaten the impurities out one by one in the heat of his own hatred and the boiling of his blood until only the perfect blade remained. cold. lethal. merciless. He is no quivering weakling that can simply be thrown away. Not anymore. Never again. In spite of his pathetic display last night he would make certain you and everyone else remembers it.

[thebluester2020]

[GI] Kinktober Day 27: "Obedience Training"

Summary: Pantalone has bought a new pet! Unfortunately, training a new pet isn't as easy as it seems but, thankfully, he has all the patience in the world for you.

Warning(s): Heavy Pet-Play, Degradation/Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Nipple Piercing Play(?), Pure Kinky Filth, Master/Sir Kink, Pantalone is a bit of a sadist here ngl.

Side Note(s): I saw the hottest Pantalone fanart the other day so that alone made me want to write for him.

A roaring flame of desire flooded your veins as you currently sat on your master's desk. The keeper of his riding crop teasingly tilting your head upward to look into his deep violet eyes.

"For such a naughty pet that was giving me sooo much trouble earlier, you're rather eager to be obedient now, aren't you?" You blushed at the seductive way his words rolled off of his tongue. You swore that he could've made the most mundane thing sound good. Yet as you attempted to shift around on your spot on his desk, you hissed when he suddenly tugged at the metal chain that connected the pretty nipple piercings that he gifted you just last week.

Pantalone tilted his head with a stone-faced expression when you squeezed your thighs together, trying to hide the slick that was quickly pooling on his desk.

Not that it was possible to hide much from the harbinger to begin with, in his line of work, he always had to have a keen eye. And he wouldn't dare to let those rules falter, not even when it came to you. "On the contrary pet, you seem to be enjoying this rough treatment...wouldn't you agree?" You gasped when he tugged at the chain once more, pulling you forward a little as the delicious sting of pain made drool begin to build up in your mouth.

You managed to give him a shaky nod. "Y-Yes..."

"...Yes...?"

"M-Master..." Your already red face deepened in color at the title.

As good as he was at making you feel like his prized lover, he was equally good at making you feel like an unworthy dog. "Even though you were rude enough to interrupt my meeting just a mere day ago with such abhorrent behavior—" Pantalone gently placed the riding crop beside your thigh, keeping a finger dutifully looped around the chain whilst his newly freed hand traveled to your thigh, steadily parting them to glance at your wet cunt. "—I'm feeling generous with how gorgeous you look in the piercings I bought you, pet." He sighed.

Your eyes immediately went to his hardening cock.

Yet as you dared to try and move your leg to graze against it, a quick smack against your inner thigh put you back in your place. "Don't let my praises make you resume your previous behavior," Pantalone sternly warned.

"You'll take what I give you and pray to whatever Archon is willing to listen to that mouth of yours that I even consider giving you more." A high-pitched whine left your lips when a gloved finger of his began to tease your entrance, inspecting and parting your cunt as if he were eyeing a new product. "P-Please..." You begged, the rest of your sentence choking up in your throat when Pantalone tugged at your chain, silently ordering for your silence.

However, it was so difficult to be silent when all you could think about was how much you wanted him to do something to you, anything even! You knew very well how good his fingers felt on your cunt, how skilled and knowledgable they were about where to touch and exactly how to make you squirm and beg for more. His tongue was even more skilled, that alone was easily concludable with how easily sly words fell from his lips.

Each word sounded like a gift and the way he'd move his tongue on your clit was even more of a gift.

The very memory of how it felt against you, you couldn't help but squirm.

Your lover quickly responded by grabbing the back of your head and tugging it, forcing your head back and exposing your neck. "Now pet...I know you aren't putting up a pitiful fight against your punishment are you?" He chuckled sadistically.

"N-No..." You moaned, the pain from him pulling on your head blending in well with how he parted your legs even more, his fingers having more room to play with your cunt as they teasingly danced around touching you where you wanted him most. "Please...just touch me."

"Oh?" He hummed. "But I already am—" He leaned in to press a kiss to your jugular, his raven hair framing his porcelain skin perfectly as he looked at you through his long lashes. "—You'll have to be more specific darling, or else..." You keened when his fingers ghosted over your clit, delicately flicking at your nub for only a moment before his fingers went back to trailing and circling around your entrance. "...I'll continue playing with you a little more."

"My-my clit...t-touch me there...!" Pantalone laughed at how shameless you were at your begging. "I need it...n-need you, so badly..."

He had a mind to reward you with a kiss for how prettily you begged. But, as he pressed the pad of his fingers to the hood of your clit, immediately taking up a fast pace, he figured with how you were beginning to cry from the pleasure...this was a reward enough. "Try not to cum too quickly darling," Pantalone chuckled. "Let's test your endurance, hm? Needy sluts like yourself need to be trained well in how to last long."

"A-Ah—!" You yelped when his hand suddenly left your hair to begin resuming his tugs to your chain. "S-Slow down! I-I feel..."

Pantalone smirked. "Slow down? For what?" He cooed mockingly. "Don't tell me you're already trying to make demands of me darling...even after I've been so gracious with you, you still want to make demands like a whore with no training." He spat before tugging at your chain even harsher.

Your body was confused with what it wanted to do. You wanted to scream from the pain but also moan with how good Pantalone was touching your clit, your slick beginning to pool and drip down the front of the desk. "Ahh....m-master...!" You whined. "Mercy—"

"So cute darling..." He chuckled as he blatantly ignored your pleas by sliding his fingers from your clit to teasing your entrance for a moment before quickly plunging his fingers into your cunt. You choked on your own breath with how quickly he found your g-spot, the feeling of his knuckles persistently rolling into your sweet spot making you scream in pleasure. "You've always had such a lovely set of lungs on you," Pantalone continued to praise you, his words going straight to your cunt. "Let's see how much you can truly handle, hm?"

In unison with him fingering your cunt, Pantalone then started to pull at your chain, tugging at your nipples just hard enough to where you felt the stings of pain but not to where it overrides your pleasure. "N-No, this is...too...fuck...!" You whined, your hips beginning to unconsciously buck to meet the thrusts of Pantalone's fingers.

"T-Too deep..." You panted. "C-Can't take it...master..."

Your lover smirked wickedly. "You can't?" He laughed incredulously in your face. "Too bad." Pantalone then lowered his face to where you could feel his heated breath against the shell of your ear. "If you aren't feeling a little fear darling...how do you expect to learn from your mistakes?"

Tears of frustration and pleasure then began to build on your eyeline. "But...I-I have learned!"

Pantalone suddenly tore his fingers from your pussy before smacking your cunt, your body jolting from the sudden smack. "I'll be the judge of that, not you." He frowned, smacking you once more before he returned to fingering your cunt. Steadily a knot began to form in the pit of your gut, one that grew tighter and tighter by the passing second as your thighs began to shake at the force of your oncoming orgasm.

"You seem a little distracted..." Pantalone said, loosening his grip on the chain entirely as he decided to use his other hand to rub at your clit, the influx of pleasure making your arms fly to loop around your lover's neck as you quickly pulled him closer. "Are you close darling?"

"Uh huh..." You nodded dumbly, pleasured tears streaming down your face. "Please...let me cum..."

He smirked at your honesty, a quiet moan leaving his lips as he started to rut shamelessly against your leg in an attempt to stave off his need to sink himself deep inside your pussy. "The sound of you begging to cum is like music to my ears..." He moaned. "Keep doing it, and I just might have no choice but to let you cum."

Without a second thought, pleas and moans for more left your lips like a unblocked dam. Your arms looping tighter around Pantalone's neck as you began to lose yourself to the pleasure. "Fuck..." You whined. "P-Pantalone...I'm so close...pleasepleaseplease let me cum." You said as a lewd squelching noise started to reach you and Pantalone's ears alongside your combined panting and moaning.

The harbinger thought you were so cute with how earnestly you were begging him to allow you to cum all over his fingers. Although the sadistic part of him wanted to make you wait a little bit longer for your orgasm...it seemed like you were influencing him. He'd be able to teach you more thoroughly with his cock fucking you into unconsciousness. "Okay then..." He panted. "Cum, cum all over your master's fingers." He said before he pressed his lips to your own.

The tender softness of his lips on your own...that was the straw that broke the camel's back as you suddenly tensed up, a loud gushing noise escaping from your cunt as you screamed into your lover's mouth, grabbing at any article of clothing that you could to further stabilize yourself.

Pantalone only took his lips away from yours when he felt you weakly smack him to let him know you were running out from air, a single string of spit still connecting the both of you as he looked down to see the front of his pants darkened by your fluids. "Now...how did my cute pet manage to make such a mess?" He lightly scolded you, gently taking his fingers from your sex before he tasted your cum.

You blushed as he hummed at your addictive taste, releasing his fingers from his lips with a 'pop' before his eyes returned to your own. A renewed hunger settled deep within his pupils as he smirked at you. "I suppose I'll have to teach you a little longer, won't I pet?" He said before he pressed his hard-on against your leg more obviously.

You couldn't nod your head fast enough.

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ It happens to the best of us 👓

[kiatheinsomniac]

──── 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐇 ˊˎ - ☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: This has been a draft for a while but I decided to finish it today hehe 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: sugar daddy! Pantalone | Regrator x sugar baby! Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.7k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MDNI, NSFW content, dom/sub dynamics, sugar daddy au, spanks, whips, slight degradation (slut used), praise

You knew you shouldn’t have done it but the dinner had just been so boring and you were craving a little excitement, something to look forward to in order to get through this dreadfully dull meeting. 

You’re the sugar baby to the richest man in Teyvat; Pantalone, ninth of the Fatui Harbingers. You both appreciate each other’s company and he pays you to stay by his side and not fool around with other men. You don’t ask questions about his status as a harbinger and nor do you ask for things unless offered, things he appreciates as a man so generous with you. He’s started to bring you along to work lunches and dinners when it’s to do with the bank and not his rank as a harbinger – you think it’s a sign he’s starting to trust you more, maybe that he’s considering a new proposal for your relationship, but you’ve found he can be as strategic as he is impulsive, making him unpredictable and so you just live in the moment when you’re around him. 

But this particular dinner had been a dreadfully long moment indeed. With a few cocktails in you, you excused yourself to the bathroom to touch up your hair and reapply some lip gloss. It was as you were admiring your reflection that an idea struck you. It was an idea that you knew would land you in trouble and yet you needed something, anything, to anticipate so that this dinner could be somewhat less dull.

With the bathroom being empty, you reached up under your cocktail dress and slid your panties down your legs, off over your heels. You bunched the little lacy garment up in your hand and made your way back to your seat at the table. Your sugar daddy welcomed you back with a soft smile and a hand on your knee. Seizing your opportunity, you had pushed your panties into his hand, making it clear that you now had nothing under your dress. He had to clear his throat and take a sip of his drink to compose himself as a brief moment of surprise overtook him. You were then shot a look that warned you this action would have consequences as he rubbed his thumb over the soft lace before sliding it into his pocket. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

And so, you find yourself bent over his large bed back at his mansion, your dress removed so that he has a perfect view of your ass, your skin covered with silky stockings and a garter belt for him. 

“There is a time and a place to be a little tease,” He lectures as he kicks your ankles apart, leaning over you so that his voice rumbles lowly against your ear, breath fanning against your skin in a way that makes your skin prickle, “and my meetings qualify for neither of such things.” He’s still fully dressed in his three-piece suit, though he’s removed the blazer and laid it on the bed beside you, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. “I’m sure you understand by now that your actions have consequences.” 

“Yessir.” You reply, hearing the dragging sound of a drawer being opened from behind you. You don’t need to look to know which it is.

“So how many spanks do you think is appropriate for trying to distract me in such a lewd way, hm?” You ponder for a moment, trying to decide an answer that will both please him and not cause you too much pain when you next wish to sit down. 

“Ten…?” You ask hesitantly, but feel a wash of relief when he lets out an approving little hum. 

“Yes, that seems like enough to teach you a lesson. One, two or three, darling?” You know this game too: you’re to blindly pick what he’ll be spanking you with. 

“Three.” You reply. Three is a good number, stable, strong, triangular. And hopefully not the damn paddle. 

“The whip it is.” He replies and you internally let out a little sigh of relief. The small whip with its various tails is placed down on the bed beside your head as his gloved hands cup your hips. He strokes your skin with his thumbs for a moment before squeezing and propping them up higher so that you’re perfectly presented for him to punish. “Just look at you, sweet girl…” He lets out an appreciative groan as his palm roams over the curve of your ass, giving it an appreciative little squeeze. “What a shame you have to be such a brat at times, I’d much rather see you squirming under my tongue…” His fingers glide over your slit in a barely-there touch, showing you exactly where he’d put his tongue.

You see his hand take the whip and it vanishes from your field of vision. Preparing yourself mentally, your teeth graze your lower lip and hands clutch at the silken sheets beneath you. But it’s been a while since he punished you like this and, as it cracks over the plush flesh of your ass, you realise it hurts more than you remember. You let out a short cry and flinch away before composing yourself and propping your hips up again. 

“Good girl…” He praises you for immediately getting back in position, soothing the sting of the developing welt on your rear with a gentle brush of his fingers. “Ready for the next?” You give a curt nod, more prepared now that you’ve been reminded of just how much it hurts to be spanked with the whip like this. “Good.” You only suck in a sharp gasp when the whip comes down on your ass the second time. 

“You always take this so well. At least you accept your punishments after you’ve been a brat~” You can hear the smirk in his voice without having to look at him over your shoulder. You feel his fingers slide into the top of your stocking and leave something there. You turn your head and realise he’s tucked a thick wad of cash into the elastic of your stocking, patting his hand against it to reaffirm that it’s all yours. You bite back a delighted smile as he looks down at you with a mix of dominance and appreciation. 

Pantalone respects the arrangement your relationship is built upon and he’s grateful that you allow him to do these sorts of things to you, to play out his fantasies. He’s the richest man on the continent and so material things no longer impress him. But intangible things? Submission, loyalty, obedience? Those are precious gifts to him, especially from a woman as pretty as you. He doesn’t forget to show his appreciation by rewarding you with money, luxuries, holidays. You respect his boundaries and he respects yours so he believes the best thing he can do for you is shower you with his wealth. 

“Let’s continue…” You face forwards once again, a hot sting on your right asscheek. He brings the whip down on your skin another three times, giving you a few moments to prepare yourself between each one. 

“Halfway…” You murmur to ease yourself. You’ve already done five, you can do five more… 

“And you’re taking it so well, pretty girl~” He purrs, tucking more cash into your stockings, even more now. You can’t help but smile happily at the sight of all the notes sticking out of the top of the silky material, tucked under your garters too. “We can go to the bank tomorrow to deposit all this. I’ll take you out for lunch, treat you to some shopping – maybe to that little lingerie store you love, hm?~” He offers and gently glides the tail of the whip over your stinging ass. 

“Mh, yes please~” You say softly, knowing it pleases him. 

“You’ll need to show me you’ve learned how to behave tonight though, can you do that for me, little one?” He leans over your back to murmur in your ear, his voice as deep and rich as his pockets, a syrupy aphrodisiac to your body. You can’t help but squirm a little and he presses his knee between your legs to assure you don’t close them. You nod your head eagerly.

“Yessir.” 

“That’s my girl.” He stands up straight again. Three more spanks later, more cash is being tucked into your other stocking. “Look at you, perfect little sugar baby, aren’t you?~” He croons, his eyes raking over your figure: you’re in just your lingerie – minus your panties – bent over his bed, hips propped up in the air and your plush criss-crossed with light welts from the whip in his gloved hand, your silky stockings stuffed with his cash. But he groans as he looks at how your pretty slit is already dripping. He swipes your thumb against your pussy, smearing your wetness over your clit, amused that you’ve become so turned on from being spanked and spoiled rotten by him, “Such a perfect little slut too…” You let out a little mewl at how he rubs sticky circles against your sensitive pearl, whining slightly when he pulls his hand away. 

“Perhaps I can find a fitting reward for you once you’ve finished your punishment…” Eager to get this all done with so he can move on to dealing with the needy heat building between your thighs, you prop your hips up for him, a silent cue that you’re ready for the final two spanks. You feel a wave of relief wash over you as the initial sting of the ninth one fizzles out into a familiar hot hurting that you’ve already grown used to this far into your punishment; one more left and you’ll be rewarded. 

But you weren’t prepared for him to stop holding back for the tenth and final blow, the crack of the whip sounding our mere milliseconds before a cry erupts from your lips. “There you go, good girl, all done~” He croons and leans over you once again as he stuffs more cash in your stocking, setting the whip down in favour of brushing your hair away from your neck. His lips press hot kisses along the side of your neck until he can teasingly nibble at your ear. His other hand reaches down to cup the underside of your knee and bring your one leg up onto the bed, causing you to spread your thighs apart as you’re bent over under him. 

“And good girls get rewarded.” 

☾ ⋆ ﾟlike my work? why not: ∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ comms. ∘ taglist ∘ follow/reblog

🏷️@firagirl @ghostofpolaris @jofie-does-things @sarah22447

[madamemachikonew]

Hello, if you don't mind me asking, how do you think Pantalone would feel about his partner receiving a Vision?

HMMMMM.

Your mouth is agape as you look at the sparkling vision in your palm, its cold virgin glossy surface shining like crystal. Your stomach is in knots, your heart a mess of complicated feelings; what should be the happiest and most exciting day of your life is muffled in a shroud of abject dread. The trinket weighs heavily in your palm, like a tainted heart in the scales of Anubis.  

How will you be able to break the news to him?

The glowing core represented everything that he despised in the world; the recognition that had eluded him for all of his life. In spite of all of his efforts and ambition. And yet, it had tumbled, seemingly effortlessly and unbidden, into your hand of all places.

As you falteringly break the news to him, staring down at your empty hands, wringing them with shame, he forces a diplomatic smile that does not reach his eyes. The two of you are now different. And a fissure has now cracked through your relationship – one which threatens to bring down the whole edifice. Until now, the balance of power had always been in his favour. But now you hold something that his whole lifetime of wealth cannot buy.

His smile unwavering, he shakes his head in the face of your promises that you won’t use it – you won’t even wear it.

“I’m happy for you,” he says mechanically, rubbing your cheek with a gloved thumb, “You deserve it.”

Rising to his feet, he presses a strong, paternal palm to your head in congratulation - or perhaps reassurance – before planting a light kiss and then leaving, retreating to his study.

He replays the conversation in his mind. It seemed that your well-intended words had wounded him deeply. You had left the Vision in your room lest the sight hurt his feelings in some way. And yet, part of him wanted to know how such divine craftsmanship felt to hold and look at. Your pleading protestations with apologetic wide eyes that you had never actively sought such a thing and had no idea why a Vision would suddenly turn up only rubbed salt into his grieved heart; They had chosen you nonetheless, even when you had had no apparent desire to. And now you have more power than you know what to do with. It seemed almost malicious on their part to toss a trinket so close to his feet.

So why not him?

As much as he loves you, your achievements, though respectable, are quite simply not on the same scale as his own. Who could possibly be his equal? It was squandered on you. No! No, he doesn’t mean that and you must never know that such a jealous thought has crossed his mind in anger, even if you would understand and be sympathetic to his rage. Your merits are what he admires and loves. It is the very fact that you are not ordinary that attracts him to you. So why does his heart feel torn with thorns that the contemptible gods he abhors so much have bestowed this gift on you?

And what sort of deep-seated ambition have you harbouring that They had felt worthy of recognition?

That you have been holding in your heart in secret all this time.

He knows, deep down, that it was not a deliberate action on your part and that if anything, you’d give him your gift in a heartbeat. Or give it back if you could. And yet, a bitter taste fills his mouth at the idea that in spite of your best intentions, he will no doubt watch you grow increasingly at ease with wielding it, to the point that it will never leave your side.

He knows that he should be happy for you.

So why does he feel so utterly betrayed and resentful?

As the rational thoughts vie for his attention in the maelstrom of envy swirling inside, he thinks that perhaps your newfound talent could be of use to him somehow; knowing your unselfish nature, he knows you would feel too guilty not to share it. But it is not quite the same as wielding such a tool of his own, as meaningless as he keeps trying to convince himself that it is. All those times you had resolved together to go to war with Celestia now feel desperately hollow. Had you even meant it?

Perhaps the sting will dull with time, as well as the guilt for feeling this way. But for now, he will allow himself to wallow for the evening.

It’s not that he hates you.

It’s not that he isn’t proud of you or feels that you were somehow undeserving of this honour.

Just…why couldn’t it have been him?

[genshin-side-piece]

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+, Financial Control, Power Imbalance, Dark themes, mentions of death, My bad writing, Anything Else I Missed

Casually thinking about how Pantalone’s hobbies include toying with the nobles in the Tsaritsa’s court for funsies. The ambitious social climbing families of the court’s lesser houses are always so eager to see their children or themselves rise into Zapolyarny’s more elite circles. Who better to play the role of the benevolent benefactor to the underprivileged during Snezhnaya’s social season than the Regrator himself? He certainly has the money and as far as connections go, there is literally no one he can’t find or buy should he need too. It is the perfect arrangement for those eager to climb or it would be, if they bothered to read the fine print.

Debts and collateral are funny things. Pantalone has no use for endless estates or family jewels. He always accepts Mora, but what use does he have for it when he can manipulate it like vision bearers can the elements? He wishes for something more malleable; something he can shape, something he can mold, something he can control. Those same poor souls who are seeking a better station in life often find themselves under the Regrator’s thumb, shackled to him by a debt they cannot pay. 

He moves them around as he needs, placing them where he feels they will be best suited. From the seediest brothels to the most exclusive salons; Pantalone has eyes and ears throughout the capital, making sure his enemies are always right where he needs them to be. Poised and ready for the fall he has planned for them. 

Such is the case with many, such is the case with you. 

Normally, Pantalone rarely took stock of what his collateral looked like. He didn’t put faces to names or much valuation on individual personalities. His only real interest was risk vs reward. Who had the highest capability to give him the best return on his investment and who would be better left to the frigid conditions of Snezhnaya’s winters should they not be able to deliver what was owed.  That wasn’t to say Pantalone didn’t have an eye for the exceptional though.  While he rarely looked past his papers and figures, he did on occasion have cause to look. You had regrettably given him that cause.

To others like you, your position was an enviable one. You weren’t subjected to the routine that was following targets or hunting up information or even soiling your hands with the blood of those Pantalone had seen fit to end. Instead, you are kept in lavish comfort. Subject to being locked in chains made of diamonds and platinum. Forced to endure his company until like all the rest, your usefulness, much like your tears would run dry. Then and only then would he consider setting you free. He would weigh your debt against all he had taken. Hemming and hawing over his balance sheets, running his calculations until he reached a satisfactory conclusion. 

You could only pray that whatever decision he came to, whether it be an advantageous marriage to one of his higher ranking officers or death, that it was quick. That it was painless, and that it didn’t involve the Doctor.

[m1d-45]

mundane extravagance

summary: there’s a dinner tonight, and you’re not leaving looking anything less than your best.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: none :3 petnames dear + darling are used for reader

-> gn!reader (implied to be in formal wear but none is described except a buttoned shirt + one ring)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

dating a harbinger had many perks. living in zapolyarny palace was one, kept safe from the howling storms and the many, many people that had a vendetta against your lover. a guard accompanied you whenever you went off on your own in case they’d managed to infiltrate the fatui, though they were rarely called upon. the regrator’s work was not half as violent as, say, tartaglia’s, so you rarely had want or reason to leave his side.

now, however, you were considering making an exception.

you could handle visits to the northland bank, you could sit in his office and listen as he ranted about some business proposal or another and rather enjoyed doing so, but this… by far, the largest downside to dating the ninth harbinger was the socializing.

parties. galas. anniversary dinners and celebration dinners and grand opening dinners and dinners just because the sun had risen that morning. it was, quite frankly, beyond excessive and more than teetering into exorbitant. he explains them all to you, of course, detailing who will be where and why he doesn’t think another will show while carefully attaching another sparkling chain to his glasses, but it doesn’t help to curb the sheer quantity of events.

but with an event comes a dress code, and with a dress code comes actually getting dressed, and with getting dressed comes your current predicament.

fitted clothes. your first thought was that someone had spilled their drink on him when he told you to come with him for measuring, but he’d been too happy for that. he took you by the hand down a winding pathway in his wing of the palace, landing at unfamiliar plain doors. you were led onto a pedestal with a smile to be still, where you’d stay for the next hour.

he was the one that had actually taken your measurements, of course. why he had led you all the way to the actual fitting room was anybody’s guess, though you suspected it had more to do with theatrics than actual need. he didn’t so much as glance at either the chart of required measurements or the notepad beside it, seemingly memorizing everything. he led you down with a kiss on the cheek and a whispered well done, and it’s like it never happened. any further questions about it were met with a knowing smile and deflection.

by the end of the week, he’d presented you with a nondescript black bag with a hanger sticking out of the top, making you promise not to open it. you hadn’t, and now you wished you did if only to practice putting it on.

he—who else?—knocked at your door, the sound slightly dampened by his gloves. “is everything alright, darling? you’ve been in there for quite a while.”

and who’s fault was it, exactly, that you were struggling to button up a shirt with diamond shaped buttons? none other than him, the man inviting himself in without a word, permanent smile wider than usual.

“is there a problem?”

you let your hands fall, not bothering to try and keep your shirt closed. “were these necessary?”

he closes the door, “everything has its purpose, dear.”

you don’t bother asking him to explain, letting him step closer and tug and smooth your shirt until there’s not a single wrinkle. he’s dressed as perfect as always, done up in black and purple. no matter what he wears, he always manages to slip in *purple*, and today is no exception. amethyst dangles from the corner of his glasses, matching the thick ring wrapped around his thumb. your shirt is a similar color, the black buttons melding with his gloves, each slipped through effortlessly.

one finger nudges your chin up, your collar pulled into perfect shape. he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a thin silver band and slipping it on your pinky finger.

“is this necessary?”

he brings your hand up, pressing a kiss to your knuckles with a smile. “any other issues you need my help with?”

ah, if you weren’t in love with him you’d surely have broken his nose by now. “you picked these intentionally.”

“forget already?” he pulls your hand back, your body following, his hand slipping around your waist. “everything has its purpose, whether you know it or not.”

you don’t bother pointing out that he’s definitely introduced new wrinkles into your clothes, or that your perfectly fitted shirt now feels a bit too tight, or a myriad of other symptoms that assuredly make you unpresentable for tonight’s dinner.

you bite your tongue, because he already knows. his nose just barely brushes yours, breath puffing over your lips and making your heart race.

he smiles, and then he’s gone. his hand leaves yours and he doesn’t even fix your shirt as he steps away, leaving back through the same door with a flash of gems and expensive cologne. “now that you’re all in order, i expect to be leaving soon. any objections?”

your head falls back and your hands flex at your sides, trying and somewhat failing to calm your racing thoughts. the knowledge that he does this on purpose doesn’t make it any easier to brush off. arguably, his easy amusement makes it worse.

“none at all, lonnie.”

you do your best to neaten your shirt, fiddling with the cuff as you leave your room. hes put on his coat, and you swear there’s another ring on one of his hands. he turns as you come in and clicks his tongue, taking your coat off its rack and sweeping it around your shoulders. it’s more of a ceremonial cloak than something that actually keeps you warm, but that doesn’t matter. even in snezhnaya, you can count the number of times you’ve been cold while dating him on half of one hand. money can buy just about everything you could possibly ever want or need.

he pulls your shirt down and chin up, smile never once wavering. “look sharp, dear, and stay close. i’d hate to lose you in the crowd.”

you swear he slips something in your pocket when he pulls away, but don’t bother checking. as conniving as the fatui are, and as slippery as his words can be, you trust him with your life.

and if that includes a definitely not at all suspicious item tucked into your coat pocket, then who are you to question the regrator’s judgement?

[bunniebubbleswrites]

My Darling Sapphire

Pantalone x Child! Reader A/N: This defintly isn't my best work, but I've been going through a serious bout of writers block but I'm back for now at aleast until something else hits me with insparation. Warnings: Shitty parents, being abandoned by family Words: 1,604 Summary: Pantalone finds you abaonded in the snow and takes you in as his own. When your family comes along to try and get something out of you, he takes care of it.

8 years ago; Age 4

It was cold. Cold and dark. You could feel the hard ground underneath you. Your eyes grew heavy. You could feel yourself getting weaker and weaker, slowly succumbing to the cold.  

The sound of footsteps graces your ears, someone was here. They had come back for you. Your eyes shot open; your vision obscured with the heavy storm of snow around you.  

“Oh dear, who left you out here all alone.” A voice filtered through your ears. It was cold and stoic with something more sinister underneath. You could make out black hair and a white cloak. The rustle of fabric filled the air and then something warm was wrapped around your small frame.  

You felt a pair of strong arms pick you up, one arm up under your legs and the other on your back keeping you close to your rescuer's chest. All you could comprehend was that they were warm and safe, with the energy you had left you pulled the cloak tighter around yourself and leaned as far as you could into their chest as you could.  

“Hey, no closing your eyes now.” It was a man’s voice, and it was kinder now, kinder than before. You fought to keep your eyes open, all the while the snow was blowing through the empty streets of the city. 

6 years ago; Age 6

The first time you addressed Pantalone, you called him Father. It was about six months after he had found you, shivering in the snow. 

He had brought you with him to a Harbinger meeting, but he really didn’t have any choice. You had caught him just as he was about to leave, in a reaction of fear you ran to him, hands gripping his thick winter coat as tears ran down your cheeks.  

You truly thought he was just going to leave you here, all alone to fend for yourself, knowing you couldn’t survive out in the cold all alone.  

He had left you with one of the segments, as he called it. He had reassured you that he would be back for you. His words still rang in your head.  

“No more crying, okay? I’ll be back for you in a few hours.” His voice was low and full of worry. He didn’t want to leave you with one of Dottore’s segments, but Pantalone wasn't really given a choice. It was either leaving you with Omega or leave you with the guards. Some would argue both were bad, but he felt better know you were with someone who could keep you safe.

You didn't like Omega, all he did was stare at you. His searing crimson eyes, his sharp pointy teeth scared you. It's like he was trying to figure out why a fatui harbinger would take in something as weak and frail as a human child with no potential.

The second Omega took a step towards you, you ran out of the room and down the hall, trying to see where Pantalone had gone. You ran past guards and Omega ran after you trying to keep you from interrupting the meeting, but you were too fast for him too keep up, despite him being one of the younger segments.

You quickly opened the door to a random room, looking to escape from Omega and all the guards chasing you.

The silence in the room was deafening, eight pairs of eyes fell on your trembling form. Your eye's darted around looking for a head of familiar black hair and kind eyes.

"Father." You ran in Patalone's direction tears in your eyes and wrapped your arms around one of his legs and buried your face into his coat. One if his gloved hands found the back of your head and gently pet you.

The other Harbingers stared at him most in shock, some with respect.

The Taritsa stood from her throne in the front of the room, making her way over to you. Everyone held their breath as she bent down in front of you.

"Hello little one," Her eyes soften as you lifted your eyes from Pantalone's coat. "Would you like to come with me?" She reached her hand out in front of you. You looked up at Pantalone, and with his hands on your back he ushered you forward. Your tight grip on his coat completely gone, her hand now in your smaller one.

The Taritsa picks you up and places you on her hip, one hand up under you the other now free. You reach your hand out for her other one, the woman who has you on her hip gives in. You look in awe as the rings on her fingers shine in the dim light of the meeting room.

She walks back to the front of the room, and as she sits down she re-adjust you on her lap and lets you play with her hand, smiling down at you fondly. Everyone in the room looks at her in both awe and confusion.

"Well, lets continue." The meeting continued onward, as you sat on the archons lap completely unaware by the weight of the words that filtered through the room.

Today; Age 16

Your laughter rang through the halls of the large house, as you ran down the steps to greet your father. It's been 10 years since Pantalone found you shivering in the snow, and he has been nothing but kind to you.

You stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching the door open slowly. This was part of your normal routine. You would eat breakfast with Pantalone, he would go to his office to work and you would attend to your studies, then he would come home and you would talks about your days at dinner.

Today though, today was different.

When your father returned home, he has guest with him in toe. These guest seemed all too familiar. The people that left you in the snow all those years ago, you kept your composure, never letting them know your next move, he had taught you that. Keep them on their toes.

"Father, welcome home." You walked over to him, as he wrapped his arms around you in a hug.

You greeted your guest, as you were taught a proper young lady should. You all walked towards the dinning room in complete silence, different from your usually excited small talk when it was just you and Pantalone.

As Pantalone sat the head of the table, you found your usually spot next to him, your step-sister across from you giving you an smirk. She knew who you were, they all did.

You smiled back, your eye slightly twitching as the first course came out.

"(Y/N), how was your day?" Pantalone's voice rang throughout the dinning room.

"It was fun," You said as a matter of factually "Tartagila came over and we spared for a little."

"You fought Lord Childe?" Your step-sister questioned, as if she didn't believe you.

"And won," You smiled at her "Quite a normal occurrence. Arlecchino came over as well, father."

"And what did she want?" Pantalone asked, as he took a sip of wine.

"She want to know if I would like to accompany her to Fontaine, and meet her children. She thought it would be nice if I were to be around people closer to my age." You said as you picked at your food with your fork.

"Well, would you like to go?" You head shot up as the words left Pantalone's mouth. Would he really let you to to Fontaine?

"Yes, I would like to meet her children." You wanted to make your case, but not while guest were present.

"I don't see why not. Your old enough now, that you should deal with any situation you find yourself in with ease." Pantalone flashed you a smile, and looked across at the man sitting at the end of the table, your biological father.

As the plates were cleared, readying the table of the second course of the three course meals you usually had for dinner.

"So, Mr. Becker. What did you need to speak with me about again" Pantalone knew who he was. Everyone in the room besides you grew tense.

"My daughter went missing 8 years ago. I was wondering if you had any information on her." Your father's voice was shaky as he asked the question. There was the possiablity that Dottore had gotten his hands on you, and had that been the case you either would be dead or sitting somewhere locked in a cage.

He had to know it was you. You looked just like your mother, the same hair and eyes. The same smile. Your step-mother and step-sister knew it was you within an instant. He did know it was you. He wanted something.

"Well, I do know where she is in fact, but I can asure you she wants nothing to do with you." Pantolone stood as the words left his mouth, his smile never quite reaching his eyes.

"I'm going to ask you to leave now." Three fauti agents walked into the dining room and kindly escorted them out of the room.

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence.

"Father, thank you" Pantalone knew you better than you knew yourself, and he knew your that those people were your so-called family as soon as you saw them yourslef. The fatui were the only family you knew and they kept you safe.

"Anything for you, my darling sapphire." Pantalone smiled at you as you both walked out of the dinning room.

[minzart]

and they had a very professional relationship as you can see here

[my-cherie]

𝗗𝗢𝗘𝗦 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗠𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗪♡

pairing ꒱modern! step-dad! pantalone x male reader warnings ꒱ step relationships (though reader doesn't know it), cheating on pantalone's part, a few pet names (darling, sweetness, pet), grinding, dirty talk, praise. wc ꒱ 600+ thoughts ꒱ small genshin drabble bc pantalone doesn't get nearly as much appreciation as he deserves, this man is HOT, y'all. inspired by the abba song with the same name. NOT BETA READ.

You hadn’t seen your mom in a long time. Ever since you moved away for college she barely contacted you, so to say you were baffled when her wedding invite came in would be the century’s understatement. Putting on your best suit, you messed with your hair a little more and tried your best to straighten your tie, before giving up and just deciding to go like this. Not like you were trying to impress anyone.

While you were on the way to the ceremony, you checked the invite again. This was maybe your mom’s third husband ever since your dad left? You weren’t sure, but maybe this “Pantalone” (as you came to know his name from the invite) would be nicer than your other step-fathers.

… The place was fancy. You almost wish you hadn’t come, because the venue in itself already seemed straight out of an expensive magazine, with the full-on white decorations, roses and tulips and baby’s breath everywhere and a ton of seats in the middle of a cute, meadow-like wedding venue and now you were sure that this Pantalone guy was at least filthy rich, because your family sure as hell didn’t have the money for this place, even with the money your mom managed to get from her past failed relationships.

You stumble amidst all the guests, making small talk with some cousins, aunts and uncles, before finally settling into the back of the garden, nursing a glass of white wine that you were sure cost more than your apartment. Trying to look for anyone else you knew besides the few relatives you had talked to, you were disappointed to see only strangers. 

Fuck, was your mom gonna take too long to come out? 

“Hello,” you startled, who— “do you mind if I wait here as well?

Oh, that’s a very pretty man.

He’s wearing probably the most expensive suit you’ve ever seen, with a beautiful blue tie, silver glasses and— Is that a fucking Armani suit?

“Sure dude, uh,” you shift under his attention, distractedly biting the inside of your mouth, scrambling for a common topic you could talk to this stranger about, “do you know the groom?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” He chuckles in amusement and you realize suddenly that he seemed a bit... bored. He was just observing everyone and not moving to greet any of the people in the venue, even though you can see that quite a few people seemed to wave and smile at him.

The unknown man seemed to not want to socialize with anyone else, besides you, that is.

You mess with your tie again, trying to distract yourself from the beautiful, beautiful man besides you. Your tie just never seems to sit correctly on your suits, no matter how many times you've watched those tutorials on Youtube about how to do the perfect tie.

“Do you need some help there?” The man — fuck you forgot to ask his name — asks, clearly seeing you struggle.

“Please, if you could.” You smile at him, embarrassed.

He comes closer, slowly redoing your tie for you, and you stare at his face meanwhile. 

Without meaning to, your eyes are attracted to his lips and you bite your own again, thinking about how they look very much kissable. When you look up, he’s already looking directly at you, a smirk playing at his lips and his eyes muddled with arousal.

So you weren’t the only one to feel the pull of attraction between you two then, good. You weren’t even enjoying the wedding anyway.

(The man kisses hard, you dimly register, your body hidden away from view by the way he’s holding you, kissing you breathless.

His knees are slowly grinding your dick and fuck if it doesn’t feel good, making you moan each time he does it, holding his hair tighter.

“Do you like it like that, darling? Does it feel good?” He talks dirty like he’s made for it and when you don’t answer, he pulls away the tiniest bit. “Answer me.” 

And you have to gasp for breath, he has already made you into such a mess in a few seconds, it’s humiliating, but not enough for you to not beg him.

“Yes! Yes, it feels amazing! Please, please—“ You don’t know his name, god damn it all. He seems to notice your predicament, because he snickers a bit.

“The name’s Pantalone, sweetness.”

You give him your name as well, completely forgetting that your mom’s soon-to-be-husband has the same name as the stranger ravaging you. Even though it’s a very clearly unique name, your brain has been completely taken by his ministrations, hazy and distracted.

“Cute,” he says, before going back to kissing you to oblivion and starting to grind against your cock with his own, clearly hard and wanting to continue just as much. 

“I’m going to enjoy ruining you, pet.”)

[glassrowboat]

Cinderella. Pantalone.

Summary: You didn't mean to be stranded out on the steps to the palace with a broken shoe, but some things are more like a fairy tale than one would think. It's only a shame your prince charming is a fucking dick.

Warnings: an exuberant amount of cussing, mentions of death, and the upperclass

Word count: 2500+

The sound of shoes clacking on the pavement was the first sign you were no longer as alone as once thought. A solid click, the pristine shine of black leather, and a silver buckle that somehow shined even in the cold night air when the brightest light near you was a streetlamp at most ten feet away. The fact there wasn't a very particular someone's insignia ingrained in that black already felt like a miracle given the man's pride. He did so love to adorn himself in finery.

“Regrator.”

“Miss, a pleasure as always.” He didn't even pretend to not notice your current state, his eyes might as well be full of mirth as he gazed down at you sitting on the steps leading up to a cursed banquet you had to attend. The event was already in full swing, yet here you sat outside as if the clamor of voices and music playing couldn't be heard. “I hope you have not gotten yourself into another problem.”

Teasing now, of all times, really?

It was already fully evident he knew what was going on. How could he not? A shoe in your hand, and a broken off heel in the other, made it clear there was, in fact, a problem. The contraption had wronged her. “I think it's rather obvious, is it not? Or do you need a new prescription for those glasses of yours?”

He didn't even bother to give an interesting reply back as he simply laughed off the jab like it was water on a ducks back. Something that wasn't event relevant enough to be addressed. “I see now. That does appear to be a problem.”

Wow. I had no fucking clue.

“Perhaps I can be of assistance to you?” His voice was musing as ever, too gentle to be real. Just the same way he acts in the middle of a business deal.

“Oh?” You looked up at him, eyes tearing off those shiny shoes you were admittedly jealous of in this moment. Any other day, you might just consider spitting on them, but circumstances have changed. “Tell me trousers, for amusements sake only, what could you possibly do to help me in this hour of need? Maybe you'd do the same thing Scaramouche did as he passed me by only minutes prior, telling me to walk barefoot in the snow.”

“Oh my, it would be a mad man who would dare try.” At least he understood that compared to the puppe- “Back to calling me trousers now, miss? I thought we grew past that.”

“Maybe you did.” If only the poison on your tongue was enough to sway him enough to slip off a step and fall past the railing with a nice, satisfying kurplunk. “Well seeing as my night is perfectly ruined, how has yours been going?”

"Oh, not too bad myself, I must say." Pantalone's voice was calm and smooth as usual, as if nothing really affected him much. "I've been attending to a few important matters as part of my responsibilities, but now I have some free time to spend. I suppose I may have found something to do with it now."

How annoyingly easy it was for him to lie, to show no tell at all. No pinch in the eyebrow, no change in tone, not even looking else where to avoid eye contact. Truly a professional. If it weren't for the fact you had personally seen Pantalone repeatedly having to brush off the same man with a rather boring sounding business proposal, you would have truly believed him. His irritation had been clear then even as that smile remained. What a talent to have, to lie easier than he breathed.

Slowly, steadily Pantalone made his was down the stairs you sat upon until he was stood before you. A kind face to be shown as he looked down at the object of your plight. “It's a rather pretty pair of shoes. A pity one of them has been torn apart. Do you think we can find you another pair in a store nearby?”

“I appreciate the offer, but I'll pass.”

It would be a fool who agrees to be in debt to the regrator, a favor or otherwise.

One of his perfectly manicured eyebrows rose as he looked down at you, almost like he was shocked at the rejection of his offer. The amusement, however, was clear in his face. "Is something the matter? It would be unfortunate to stay here barefoot in the cold. Though I can't say I didn't expect that answer. You are quite the character.”

“Says you. How great a character you are that your very own name is ripped from a play.”

You weren't even honored with a reply. You never are. 

“Do you live nearby, miss?”

“Yeah. Maybe like ten minutes down that street,” you pointed to the left, finger blocking one of the many piles of snow on the street. “Then you- Close. I'm close by.”

Why the fuck was I telling him this?

“I see.” 

With the wave of a hand covered in what had to be the finest of fabrics for gloves (probably something that's been hand spun by poor widows for years as they labor over raw cotton) and glittering silver Pantalone called over an attendant. Her short frame quickly moved over like she felt the need to be as efficient as possible. As to why? Well, the answer is obvious. You don't defy a harbinger. You don't deny them. You can only hope to please the overhyped power houses of Snezhaya, especially if one of them is your boss. 

“You are far too easy to easy to read.” Without so much as a glance towards this woman's way, he takes something from her hand. A little bottle of sorts you can't read the label of with a red cap. That is until he moves his bejeweled fingers away to give you a chance to peek at the words printed out. “One day your pride will be the end of you.”

And I hope your end will be just as pathetic as you.

Huffing you try and ignore the savior that he's holding in his hand. Shoe glue, just what you need. “Why do you even have that?”

Not even bothering to address you, Pantalone tells the attendant she's excused. The same rush as when she ran over, showing as she bowed to you both. “Lord harbinger. Miss.” 

And there she goes.

“Cmon slacks, gimme something I can reply to that isn't your typical droning. Otherwise, I might just start mistaking your voice for those inside.” The same chatter that might as well be ringing on your ear as it grows louder and louder throughout the night. Alcohol may loosen lips, but it also apparently makes everyone too deaf to hear properly. If either of you were to go back inside, surely you'd be cringing every time someone walks by as they think it's a great idea to address someone all the way across the great hall.

“I bore you as much as ever then.” With a chuckle, Pantalone holds the bottle out before you, dangling it like bait on a string, and you were the fish he was waiting for to take a bite. Warning label flashing your vision. “I could tell you how La Signora once broke her heel and simply combusted with fury. Though that wouldn't be true, she wouldn't be caught dead wearing something cheap enough to break just like that.”

He always has to have a smart reply, doesn't he? All the while you're running low on quips as this guy proves his default setting is exhausting everyone around him. The charming man one might mistake him as with a simple glance was truly such a farce. “Thanks, but I'd rather rip the boots off of some poor, unsuspecting sod than let you do something for me.”

With a click of his tongue, Pantalone pulls the bottle back away from you, the shining light of hope that it was being stolen like the donations from an alms box under the nose of a priest. “Ahh yes, the fear of owing the ninth harbinger. It is a daunting cloud to loom so heavily.”

Of course it was. He may sound and look as pretty as a picture, but under those silver spectacles were eyes that could only be satisfied with the sight of mora in his palm. Those that denied him such a sight had a habit of going home to a few broken objects, being randomly beaten down out of the blue on their merry way back home, and lastly disappearing in the same way your clouds of breath blown out into the cold air of the blizzard covered nation did. There was no god to pray to that could help escape him, no matter which archons name uttered.

“How about I offer you a deal,” Pantalone asked, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smirk. It was as if the very mention of any sort of ‘business’ had him rearing to go. Cocky bastard.

It's just a shame you had nothing to say. Another comment would have this back and forth going until either a: you get interrupted by one of the guests, b: he decides toying with you has lost its charm (an unlikely event but still one can dream), and lastly c: you bite the bullet and make a ten minute walk home in a broken shoe through snowy and icy streets you'd surely be slipping and sliding over. A face plant or two might just be worth it, though.

“No objections then. As for our deal, I shall assist this damsel in distress with fixing her shoe, and in turn, you tell no one of this.” As if he was already certain you'd agree in a heartbeat, probably in his minds even with stars glittering around you like a scene from a shojo manga panel, Pantalone plucked the broken shoe and heel from your hands. “I'd say you would be getting the better end of the deal here tonight. You do need to get home, don't you?”

I do, and he knows that. Prick.

 “Fine. Deal or whatever.”

The fact that he didn't immediately pull out a five page contract on the spot was disappointing. Unlikely, but the thought alone would be enough to cause you to laugh if it was anyone else's presence you were in. Instead, you sat back on those concrete stairs, watching as the regrator of all people slipped off his rings and placed them to the side. Doesn't want his precious getting dirty then, huh?

“So what's the real reason you have that stuff on you?”

“You truly do believe every word that slips past my lips is a lie,” He stated. Stated, not questioned. “I have found myself working in collaboration with a cobbler recently, and I was given this as a free sample of sorts. You were simply lucky with the timing, is all.”

Your eyes narrowed as you looked down at him, his gloved hand holding that stupid little bottle in hand as he seemed to run over the nails that were supposed to keep the outsole together with ease. He seemed so calm doing this, but it could all just be another facade, another act. Only he, himself, and Pantalone knew what was truly going on in that pretty head of his. “I wouldn't call breaking my shoe luck.”

“Perhaps not.” 

“I never asked, just how did that attendant magically have that on hand with a wave of your- well hand.” That could have been worded a bit better. Cmon self, you're slacking here.

“Oh that? I heard of your little plight when I was inside. A noble lady with a mole over her lip, the left side, mentioned a poor lasy by your name having tripped over her own two feet like a buffoon who then,” without missing a beat as he spoke Pantalone kneeled before you, “ran off as if a headless chicken.” 

“Lovely imagery, slacks. Thank you for that.”

“I am merely repeating what I have heard for you. I wouldn't want you to go unaware of what your fellow ladies have been gossiping about this night.”

In doing so, you purposefully worded it in a way that had the intent to embarrass me. I'm not blind nor deaf but somehow, he surely thinks I am both.

“Now then.” Easily, he pulled you from your thoughts. Daydreaming cast aside and asunder as his hand wrapped around your ankle. The instant jolt from the movement you were spurred into, meaning little as his grip tightened, not even allowing an inch of freedom. “Give the heel some time before you start walking on it. We don't need to disturb the banquet with your dramatics again.”

A part of you wanted to believe Pantalone's hand didn't feel warm because they're just as cold and dead as his heart, but the gloves he dawned and the thermal stockings you used religiously in this winter inferno were enough to say you were just being hopeful. It was better to focus on that little fact than how he was sliding that stiletto on for you. The fact he wasn't looking at your eyes could either be a blessing or make this all worse. At the very least, it gave you a chance to figure out that blaming the color burning your cheeks a rosy hue on the low temperatures could be a solid enough lie he wouldn't openly question your bull. 

“Now if you'll excuse me,” Pantalone said, calling your attention back up to his face and not the hand that had just let go of you. “It's about time I head back inside.”

Somehow, there wasn't even a speck of dust on his knees as Pantalone stands back up, his perfect little demeanor the same as always without even a wrinkle to be had. Untouchable. Far off from everyone else around him. “I'm sure the Tsarita's little socialite has been missed.”

With a small laugh and a “precisely,” Pantalone steps around you, those same perfect condition having shoes of his hitting the steps with a satisfying click as he walked away. At least this time, you weren't gazing upon them with envy. “Remember now, miss, no going around gossiping about this.”

As if I'd ever.

“The less your name falls from my lips, the better. You do so tend to leave a narly aftertaste. Plus, I have no intention of owing you anything.”

With one last flick of his gaze, one last shine of those spectacles under the streetlamp, he looks at you. How unreadable that mask could be when he truly wished it. Maybe it's true what they say: once you wear a mask too long, it becomes your face. 

“Have a good night then.”

And with that, he left. The night air your only company.

Good riddance.

Except now your looking down at a pink box that had been delivered to your house this morning, only a day having gone by since that unlucky encounter with the regrator yet he chose to rub this all in your face. A stink bug of a man, truly. Only there to be a pest that's always somehow present, yet you shouldn't bother to do away with. After all, there would be consequences. 

So, like any bug, he crawled through the cracks of what is supposed to be your home. All with the ease of one delivery man and a letter with the most beautiful handwriting you had ever seen (and annoyingly written in what had to be scented ink). “I believe this means you now owe me a favor.” Signed Pantalone.

How you wanted to spit on the brand new pair of heels before you.

What a dick.

[satinroses]

Oh, I wouldn't say freed... More like, under new management!

Spoilers for 5.3 Natlan Archon Quest!

Yan!Pantalone x GN! Reader (x Yan!Capitano)

Summary: Having clawed his ways from the slums of Liyue Harbour to being seated at the table of a God, seizing opportunities has become Pantalone's second nature and now that the first harbinger is... indefinitely indisposed, what kind of banker would he be if he didn't capitalise on such a unique situation by finally stealing away Capitano's precious consort, the same one that has plaguing his every waking moment since the very moment he first laid eyes upon them?

Warnings: Sensitive themes, Yandere Behaviours, do you have stockholm syndrome or are you going mad from social isolation? your choice!, manipulation, social isolation, anxiety, you're all around not having a good time, mild nsfw implications, fearing for your life (not from Pantalone), losing the will to go on, you literally can't catch a break

3.5K Words

A/N: did i intend for the title to be a Megamind reference...? perchance... also please forgive any inconsistencies or grammatical errors. I have not yet finished the Natlan archon quest but I've seen the spoilers and i hope that fine ass man rests in peace. I'm still high on copium and am praying that because his body is still alive then Dottore can work his magic and fix him somehow someway (if that happens i may even write a part 2 in celebration! Or even if it doesn't!)

Anyone who knew anything about the first harbinger would be well aware of the reverence and tenderness he lavished onto you. Your safety and protection would forever be at the forefront of the harbingers mind, before retrieving the gnosis, or bringing glory to the Tsaritsa or even striking down the heavenly principles. As such it’s not unusual for the harbinger to keep you sequestered away in the dark, lonesome manor you have learnt to call home ever since your marriage. After several years it was now commonplace for Capitano to be gone for days and weeks at a time, hardly breathing a goodbye, just pressing one adoring and gentle kiss to the back of your hand and a second hot, gruff kiss to your lips before storming out of the door, blade sheathed on his belt. 

This time he had strayed from the established routine, Capitano had warned you that he might be gone for a bit longer than usual but he would return to your arms within a month. You remembered the silent voice in your head bitterly wishing that he would never return, how the heavenly principles love to play their cosmic jokes. 

After a month had passed and the letters from your husband (since you were wed he had made a point of writing you a detailed letter every single day, describing his journey and detailing how dearly he missed you and how everyday away from your side was utter agony) had stopped arriving. You had spent hours pouring over every letter he had sent since his departure but not once did he mention anything that could explain his sudden silence. That was the second thing that unnerved you, if there was one thing you had learnt through your several years of marriage to the first harbinger, it was that his loyalty and devotion was second to none. The idea that your ever loyal hound would stray from his routine was peculiar enough. Once another week had passed without any word from or about Capitano you began to pester the servants and guards for any information from the outside world but they refused to breathe a word to you. 

Although you publicly admitted you held much contempt for Capitano for prying you from your home, you couldn’t help the unease that seeped into your bones. You had spent countless mornings watching him train, the brute force and unrestrained power he used to slam his blade down into the frozen ground, the innumerable agents he dispatched with one measured swing of his sword and on rare occasion when you were close enough to danger to personally witness (a scarce occurrence as even leaving the estate was uncommon) how his onyx blade was stained with a viscous crimson inch or that seemed to seep everywhere, even sticking to the fur of his cloak. When he pulled you into his chest after the fighting was done you’ll never forget how sickening the coppery scent was, clinging to the inside of your nose until you felt like you were suffocating on it. That combined with the utter love-sick devotion he had proven himself a slave to, you found the idea that anything could prevent Capitano from writing other than death to be utterly humorous. Somehow despite the hatred you harboured in your heart for the man, the idea of a man of Capitano’s impossibly imposing stature somehow being struck down felt impossible, even if it was the pyro archon herself to do so. You simply refused to entertain such an idea. That night you had come to a conclusion: There has been a mix up! or the messenger was attacked on the road! or maybe Capitano's letters slipped right out of the messengers pack and he simply hasn't realised. You repeated these mantras to yourself compulsively.

But as the weeks continued to amble on by with no word from your husband you couldn’t help but find that a more extreme reason to be the only excuse for his sudden silence.

As you spent days pondering on the possibility of your captor’s passing, the idea that any day now a Fatui official would wander in and give you an official declaration of Capitano’s passing and would send you on your way with perhaps a pouch of Mora for your troubles. The more you fantasised about your freedom being returned to you, the more you realised how unlikely such an occurrence was. That morning you had been nothing short if giddy, any day now you would be free to return to your family and you could pretend these past years were nothing short of a bad dream - by evening your joy had turned to ash in your throat. If your husband (even after several years of calling him that, it still caused your throat to constrict painfully as though the very word was poison) had truly been defeated then you had become nothing to the Fatui but another loose end to tie up. There was no way they could know for sure just how much information regarding the sensitive inner workings of the Fatui that Capitano had shared with you. There was no way they would let you wander free when you were a living, breathing compromise to all their plans. Even in the event of his death, you shall be returned to his arms soon enough. You couldn’t stop an overwhelming feeling of defeat swallow you like a wave as the realisation hit you that nothing would bring Capitano greater joy.

After several weeks of agonising suspense you had debased yourself to pleading with the servants and guards for even just a rumour of what was to become of you. Again, they showed you nothing but cold indifference as they continued their tasks, completely unaffected by your desperate pleas.

Your feet bled from the constant pacing as your mind was utterly consumed with anxiety. The unknown and the terror of what was to come had driven you half mad with unease. All day you wept for how unfairly your life would end, never truly getting to live before your life was stripped from you. All night you didn’t dare get even a wink of sleep for fear one of the guards would slip into your chambers and finally put an end to you. Your mind had endlessly ran through every possibility of escape but it seemed just as impossible as it had before, if not more so. You weren’t sure if the isolation and fear was finally taking complete control but you were almost certain there were more guards surrounding the estate now then there had been prior to Capitano’s departure.

That night you sat on the floor of your chambers, hunched over your bed as you wept into the thick duvet for even a brief illusion of comfort. Your hands were clasped tightly together in prayer, crimson crescents marring your hands with the frantic devotion you called out to your Goddess. Sobbing into the bedsheets you called aloud for the Tsaritsa, beseeching her to take some mercy on her devoted follower and either return Capitano to you safely or offer you a quick and clean death and put an end to this torment for you couldn't bare another day of it.

For the first time in days and after hours of desperate cries for your goddess to extend you some of her benevolence, you slipped into an uneasy slumber, half expecting to wake up to a blade to your throat yet you had lost the will to endure. As the sun rose you were awoken by the distinct noise of the main doors slamming shut as heavy footsteps strode into the Grand Foyer. Breathlessly you rose to your feet, certain that the Tsaritsa had heard your prayed and returned your husband to you. You scrambled as fast as you could down the winding corridors, paying no mind to how your limbs were trembling with adrenaline or the rumpled nightclothes you were still dressed in. As you burst through the door you skidded to a halt on the polished marble floors. Instead of being greeted by Capitano’s open embrace, ready to sweep you into his arms now that you were finally reunited, your eyes instead landed upon the ninth harbinger who now stood just a few feet in front of you, his gloved hands clasped tightly behind his back as he gave you what appeared to be an attempt at a genuine smile. 

You froze. In your relief at the possibility of Capitano’s return you hadn’t even registered this as an outcome. You had only met Pantalone perhaps once before, at your wedding a few years prior. That had been the only day Capitano had permitted you to be around any of colleagues. What was already no doubt an uncomfortable event for all involved but the groom had only been exacerbated by the eccentric personalities seated in the audience. You had sobbed the entire way through the ceremony with two Fatui soldiers having to grip onto your arms and practically force you down the aisle. At the very least the 11th harbinger had the decency to look genuinely concerned as you were dragged down the aisle. You had half thought the man might attempt to put a stop to it but when the time came to ask for objections not one person came forward. After the ceremony you could also recall an interaction with the knave. Although the whole day had been a blur, you remembered that she briefly took you aside and sternly forced her handkerchief into your hand, refusing to take no for an answer. You wouldn’t exactly call the woman doting but whatever small sympathy the woman was capable of, it’s clear she had attempted to extend them to you. You had spent many nights after the ceremony thinking back on your interactions with all the harbingers, Pierro and Pulcinella’s cold indifference at the ceremony, Sandrone and Dottore’s impatience to leave as quickly as socially acceptable to return to whatever invention or experiment had currently caught their attention, the varying looks of pity you received from Tartaglia, Arlecchino and La Signora, the quiet smile on Columbina’s face and… the one harbinger you just couldn’t get a read on. Pantalone had turned to watch as you were forced down the aisle and his eyes had not left you once since. Even as the festivities had begun and Capitano had whirled your reluctant form across the crystalline ballroom of Zapolyarny Palace, his eyes didn’t once move from you. Now you were feet away from him and his eyes enclosed around you once more, fixated so wholly on you as though nothing else in the world could or would ever matter even remotely as much as you did in this moment.

Your breath hitched as he sauntered closer, removing his finely crafted leather gloves from his hands. You shut your eyes at once, although you could no longer see him, you could hear the clicks of his shoes echoing through the foyer and getting closer. Once he was but a few inches away from you, you tensed your shoulders to brace for impact but it never came. You couldn’t help but flinch as you felt both his hands clasp firmly down on your shoulders, holding you in place. After several seconds you finally allowed your eyes to flutter open. Pantalone’s eyes bored into yours as he tutted with what was likely an attempt to display sympathy but instead came off as patronising.

”Now now” he breathed out, his hands now began to rub up and down your shoulders in soothing motions “There’s no need to look so frightened” he exhaled, almost sounding amused.

”Where is Capitano?” you asked. You hardly recognised your own voice with how hoarse it had become from the past weeks of weeping.

”Shh shh shh” he muttered, his hands moving from your shoulders, up to your cheeks. He cupped your face affectionately as he spoke in a gentle tone as though afraid the slightest upset might frighten you off. With a deep sigh he began “I’m afraid Capitano is occupied… indefinitely. No matter how dearly I’m sure he would wish to see you, I’m afraid you won’t be reunited for a long time yet.”  He paused for a moment, his gaze darting across your face for any idea of your internal workings. His stare was bright and brilliant, even when hidden behind the glasses that sat firmly on the bridge of his nose. He made you feel exposed, as though every second under his stare he stripped away a little more of your walls. He left you feeling bare and cold, you wanted to shrink away from the ninth harbinger. He had told you what you needed to hear and now you wanted to sink back into the depths of the manor and await whatever fate had in store for you, as long as it was far away from him. After another moment of his assessment he seemed satisfied and continued

”It’s with a heavy heart that I bring the news that the mission to acquire the Pyro Archon’s gnosis was not successful” his tone was one of deep sorrow however you could see the tiniest ghost of a smirk dancing across his face as his attempted to maintain composure. “Of course I am delegating as much funding as financially possible to restore your husband however I’m afraid the damage was quite extensive, It’s unlikely that even with the unparalleled scientific minds in the Fatui that we will ever be able to return him to you.”

Once again your heart began to patter against your ribcage. If what Pantalone said was true then you truly were a liability. You cleared your throat and took a deep breath before you spoke, desperate to at least maintain a façade of dignity in the face of such dire circumstances

”Have you come here to kill me then?” You asked him. In response the harbingers eyebrows shot up almost comically, for the first time this morning he looked completely astounded.

”Kill you? Now why ever would I do that?” His hands were still planted firmly on your cheeks, his cool skin soothing on the heat on your cheeks as his thumb tenderly traced the tear tracks that were still emblazoned on your cheeks from your night of sorrowful prayer. He hummed contentedly before continuing, “admittedly there were a few of my colleagues that had suggested to wash our hands of you entirely and slip some arsenic in your food or simply have one of the soldiers stick a blade through your heart” He paused again, assessing you. He could almost feel your breath hitch as he inched slightly closer, his thumb now tracing idle patterns on your cheeks “don’t worry my dear, I shut down such discussions swiftly. I would never wish to have the blood of someone so lovely on my hands. No, that wouldn’t do at all” Now he let a full grin fall across his face. You believe he was attempting to make it comforting but instead it felt predatory, like a lion grinning down at a lamb. “My colleagues and I have thankfully come to a compromise. Although I’m certain you would never run and spill any secrets you may have learnt from your time in such close proximity to Capitano… unfortunately several of my fellow harbingers didn’t feel quite so confident in your loyalty.” One of his hands now reached to brush through your hair gently, his grin grew until he was baring all his teeth at you. Now he didn’t just feel like a lion, he looked like one too “For the foreseeable future you will be taking up residence at my estate. Please don’t fret my lady, I’ll ensure you are well looked after.” His watched you expectantly, as though he believed this to be wonderful news for you. You stared at him blankly. Last night you had prayed to the Tsaritsa for your husband returned home or death but it would appear she had managed to present you with a 3rd, much more terrifying option. Although he may not be quite as physically imposing as Capitano, he somehow made you feel much smaller. Every shared touch and exchanged glance with Pantalone felt intimate and expectant, every brief glance at your lips was a promise of something more to come, every tender caress a precursor for a carnal embrace. Even now he seemed half shocked you hadn’t jumped into his arms in glee at the news you would now be staying with him. Of course you were thankful that he had intervened on your behalf and given you another chance at life but a more animalistic and instinctual part of you as you stood here alone with Pantalone you almost would have preferred being left in this dark, reclusive manor to rot. Capitano took so much from you but he left you your dignity, your sense of personhood, despite his desire to take and take until there was nothing left, he had always strove to be selfless for your sake. With a man like Pantalone, even now with his grip on your face, deceptively light but the muscles in his fingers were tense, ready to clamp down the moment he deemed in necessary. From what little you knew of Pantalone from Capitano’s descriptions, he was the head of the Northland bank and had built himself an immeasurable amount of wealth. Did Pantalone know when you've taken too much from someone? Did he care?

Part of you wished to pry his hands off your cheeks and flat out refuse him, scream out that you want nothing to do with him and flee back to you bed chambers like a child but unfortunately the rational part of you took over, the part of you that was screaming at you to seize this last chance at life he was offering you and so when he extended his hand to you and whispered into your ear in a saccharine tone “Shall we?” You couldn’t help but accept.

Pantalone's POV:

The carriage ride back to his estate wasn't long but he had given his driver instructions to extend it for as long as possible. You seemed bewildered when he sat right by your side, thigh to thigh, instead of sitting across from you. His arms wrapped tightly around your shoulder, constricting you to his side like a serpent. You were sat close enough to his side that he could smell the saccharine smell that emanated from you.

Since the moment he first saw you he had known that there was no one else in the world for him but you. Every single night since he saw you, he couldn't sleep with the extremity of his yearning. It was indescribable agony to know that you were laying in the bed of the First harbinger. Innumerable priceless artefacts and artworks had been destroyed in his rage at the thought of you being by that undeserving wretches' side. Now having you so close after yearning and longing for countless years, it was a high unlike anything else. Feeling your skin against his, you were so close that he could almost feel your warm breath on his skin, it took every scrap of restraint in his body to not begin to ravage you the moment the carriage door shut.

He knew he could never challenge his fellow harbinger publicly, especially not one so revered as Capitano and he knew where his strengths lied. If it came down to a duel then there was a slim chance he would succeed.

However as he matured from a street urchin to the wealthiest man in Snezhnaya, he had learnt that if you cannot beat them at their own game then simply don't play it. It had taken several years of calling in favours, pulling countless strings and funding dozens of failed experiments and dead-end expeditions in order to convince his fellow harbingers that it would be best if Capitano faced the pyro archon alone.

Of course he didn't receive the news of Capitano's supposed immortality well but it doesn't matter that he is still breathing. He may as well be a corpse at this point. He's sure that by passing the funding for a few more of Dottore's experiments then he can convince him to put the matter of restoring Capitano's soul on the back burner.

He had come to terms with how risky this plan was the moment he first set it into place several years ago but he has formed his entire career on a succession of flawlessly executed gambles. His entire life he has been beating the odds and he's not going to stop now that the recently widowed object of his adoration and obsession sits a mere inch away, still draped in nothing but their thin night clothes.

He will admit that perhaps it was cruel to keep you waiting all those weeks, he should have come to collect you the moment the news reached him of Capitano's failure but when he saw the frantic, desperate look in your eyes as you burst into the room, he knew that he had made the right call. You weren't in the position to deny him anything now. He could finally rest easy knowing you were seated right in the palm of his hand, exactly where you belonged.

[phoenixblaze1412]

Might seem crazy for what im bout to say…

HAI IM SORRY BUT IM NOT REQUESTING THE ORDER OF BAIZHU FLUFF THIS TIME😔🩷

But im gonna order for the regrator boys and girlies! So can we please get a pantalone x gn!reader fluffy? *cough* their first date *cough*

-🎀

No need to apologize love^^ let's go from Baizhu to Pantalone because man needs affection too.

First Date

Dating Pantalone has its ups and downs but you two were able to make things work.

With him being part of the fatui and bring the ninth harbinger, work always calls for him that it's rare for him to be at home to spend time with you, maybe even once in a blue moon.

Meanwhile you would be working at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and helping out your director and friend Hu Tao that you would always be home way past midnight.

But despite rarely being able to see each other, you two would communicate to each other through letters.

And maybe a pyro fatui guard or two that would be watching you from afar to make sure you don't get hurt. They were given strict orders by the Regrator himself or else they would be the next test subjects for Il Dottore's experiments if you were to be harmed.

So to receive an invitation from your lover that you were to have dinner at Liuli Pavilion, who were you to say no.

It's literally your first date with him.

If you're lucky enough, it would also be your first kiss with him if the chance is given.

Such a shame that the only contact you two shared was simple hand holding. Hu Tao even commented at how bland your partner was for not being able to at least give you a kiss. If only she knew that she was insulting a harbinger, but you wouldn't tell her that.

You had to ask her to give you a day off just to be able to prepare for it. And Hu Tao, being the supportive friend she is, immediately pushed you out of the parlor while rambling on about to use protection if your partner decides to give you more than dinner for the night.

Once you made it back to your home, you were surprised to see a gift placed upon your bed. Opening it and looking inside, you could only stare in awe at the expensive outfit laid before you. You were guessing the outfit was custome made, there were even jewels decorating it as it glimmered under the light.

"I hope this gift finds you, my love. I expect that you wear it to our dinner tonight. I shall see you then."

You were thankful for the outfit, noticing how it matches the usual colors you would wear with a mix of purple. You were a bit curious on how Pantalone knew your sizes but decided not to question it, assuming it was simply a lucky guess.

Entering Liuli Pavilion was simple. Finding where your lover resides, is a bit difficult. Before you could even take another step, you were greeted by a familiar voice.

"It brings me great joy to see you wearing the gift I sent, darling. How I have missed you so."

Pantalone stood there before you, taking your hand in his before placing a small kiss to your knuckles.

Oh if he knew how the most simplest action he does can easily make you melt.

Leading you to your dinner table with the food already prepared. The two of you dined in, talking about how the other has been doing.

Now, we know how no one has ever seen the Regrator's eyes before. But for you, you are an exception.

As you rambled on about the things that happened while he was gone (even though he always knows what happens to you every day considering his fatui agents would report to him daily, he simply pretends to not know. He does like listening to your voice after all), his eyes glanced at your form. Purple irises tracing and remembering each curve of your body due to how the outfit he had made hugged your figure nicely.

You stopped talking midway when you felt gloved fingers grasp your chin and turn you to the side before feeling a pair of lips pressing against yours.

You were glad your body immediately responded by kissing back. Meanwhile your brain is still processing the current situation.

Pantalone is kissing you. YOU.

ANWIEJDOQJSKJQOJSOJSKJWOXJ

(Y/n).exe has stopped working...

Pulling away from the kiss, you could only sat in a daze with your cheeks flushed red.

You are definitely going to tell Hu Tao about this.

Pantalone was simply enjoying your reaction. He too was waiting for the chance to be able to kiss you. He always wondered how your lips would taste like. After knowing it now, it made him crave for more.

Once you both finished dinner, Pantalone led you to the various shops and markets you two would pass by, offering you sweet delicacies and buying you expensive jewelry. Simply pampering you with gifts that he knows would look wonderful on you.

He doesn't ignore the fact that there are various people, men and women alike, who would eye you as if you were their prey. Nonetheless, he would have his arm wrapped around your waist and pulling you close to him. Showing the world that you already belong to someone else, him specifically. Pantalone wouldn't even hesitate to use his power and connections to take care of those that would try to lay their hands on you or even dare to take you away from him.

Pantalone would make sure that you get home safe once the date has ended, he would walk you back to your home.

He already has a promise ring in hand as he slipped it onto your finger, telling you that he would be visiting you more frequently from now on to be able to spend time with you.

You think he would just leave after getting you home and placing a ring on your finger?

He would pull you towards him before kissing your lips again, making sure this one lasts more longer than the one he did earlier until you're breathless before pulling away with a smile.

"I look forward to seeing you soon, dearest. Do expect that I'll be wanting your attention whenever I visit. I do deserve it after working so hard, no?"

Overall experience of the date? ∞/10

You are definitely giggling like a school girl while telling everything that happened to Hu Tao the next day. Her also giggling and squealing along with you. Zhongli could only shake his head in amusement as he drank his tea.

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ Honey and Violetgrass

Pantalone with an innocent reader, who is an adventurer but strong in their own regard. Still gets spoiled by him. 

Tw: none, pure silly fluff. 

The richest man of Teyvat requires no introduction. He is a man of affluent taste, be it the most exquisite fashion to most daily commodities - his gaze sojourns only on the highest of qualities. He is the 9th of the Fatui Harbingers, after all, hence being the face of business and the Snezhnayan economy itself. Therefore, it is natural for the public to assume that his inclination in people is as wealthy as his spacious manor, correct? He is young, he is powerful and his looks are as influential as his status. If The Regrator has a significant other, surely they must be a dream partner, basked in expensive perfumes and working as a high-class model? 

So imagine the people’s bewilderment when Pantalone’s darling, who casually bursts into his office, is some adventurer…? A person of common status, with bruises adorning their knuckles from climbing and fighting the wildlife. And yet the moment you waltz into his office, whatever important business matter was at hand is now completely forgotten by the Harbinger. In fact, Pantalone’s whole exhibition of demeanor switches in an instant. 

“Oh, honey bunny! My little gem, you're finally back!” - Pantalone stood up from his desk, completely disregarding his Fatui subordinates who remained seated. With a concerned expression, he rushed to you and cupped your cheeks. “How was your expedition? You’re back later than usual… I was worried about you.” 

“Sorry! Just had a little mishap, but I am back.” - you replied with the brightest of smiles, your face beaming despite the scratches and messy hair locks. “Ah, I’m sorry, Pantalone. Did I interrupt a business meeting?” 

The Regrator froze and ceased his check-up. He remembered that some of his business associates were still in the office. He glanced at them, then glanced back at you. 

“Oh, sweetie, nonsense!” - The Harbinger let out a haughty laugh and clasped his hands together. All it took was a single stern look towards his subordinates to convey: ‘This meeting is over. Leave.’ 

The poor associates were left to their confusion, as they were silently dismissed. Now all alone in his office, your dear Harbinger helped you brush the dust of your clothes, gently sliding your coat out of your smaller form. “Where were you anyway, dear?”   

“So I was on my way to find something… But I stumbled upon a Pyro Abyss mage!” 

“Oh!” - Pantalone’s face contorted into concern behind his glasses.

“But don’t worry, because the abyss mage was stuck on a rock in the middle of a lake. They couldn’t attack me, so instead I helped the abyss mage cross the lake without drowning.” 

“Oh,” - Now the man smiled, relieved at your kind gesture towards the most boorish creatures. 

“But the abyss mage got so scared when I carried him out of the lake that a massive Lawachurl heard us and came to attack!” 

“Oh!” - that look of panic was back. 

“Turns out there was a small camp of hilichurls nearby… So I tried to convince them I meant no harm. I guess they saw what I did, and didn’t attack me.” 

“Oh…” 

“Instead I asked them to take me to the top of a cliff and help me gather some local herbs! And they surprisingly understood because that’s what we did!” 

Silence. In the past few minutes that you conveyed your story, the 9th’s face changed into an array of emotional rollercoasters. The man adjusted his glasses, and wrapped his arms around you: 

“Dear, my honey, my little heart. You know I love you but please don’t make me have a heart attack…! You must exercise caution when you’re out there exploring the wild. And on high terrain cliffs?! Just what was so important that you had to ask some… brutish hilichurls to help you?” 

You smiled at him - that bright and sunny little smile that erased any of his trouble and melted the Harbinger’s heart. You pulled out of his warm embrace, reaching somewhere in your bag to bring something carefully wrapped in cloth. You held it close and unwrapped it before Pantalone. 

“Fresh Violetgrass, Pantalone. I know they are your favorite, but you hate store-bought ones. They’re hard to acquire since they only grow on high-rise cliffs in Jueyun Karst… So it took me a while to hike and find them. Sorry to make you wait.” 

You clarified delicately, standing there with your vibrant batch of Violentgrass, as if afraid that Pantalone might scold you for such a reckless expedition. But how could he be mad at you? How could he do anything but melt and be flustered at your adorable disposition? His little dear, so bravely hiking all the way to Liyue just to get his favorite flora as a gift? 

“O-oh, dear my. All this, just to bring it to me?” - The Regrator gasped, his arms instantly reaching to embrace you as if you were his favorite plush, smothering you with tight squeezes. “My honey bunny, you shouldn’t! These flowers look precious in full bloom; as precious as you.” 

“Ah! Pantalone, you’ll squish me… And the flowers.”  

Thus, the lovely Violetgrass flowers were now rightfully placed in a vase back home. Their purple petals emit a fragrant aroma throughout the bedroom where you and Pantalone now rest. That’s how your relationship with The Regrator was; the richest man of Teyvat who could easily buy the entire world with a single glance, was actually the one swooning over your innocent yet loving gestures. Maybe it was your sincerity, or perhaps your adventurous nature. Nonetheless, that didn’t stop the Harbinger from sitting all day and daydreaming of your experienced arms carrying him bridal style. Even if he was technically taller than you, you possessed some lovely muscles from your years of adventuring. And they certainly enticed him further. 

Most amusingly, you’d know he’s having those silly little thoughts whenever he sat silently with an endearing grin on his face. You stepped out of the bathroom, refreshed and dressed in comfortable loungewear. So you decided to ask him: “Hm? What’re you thinking about?”

“Nothing important, my dear.” - he chuckled, beckoning you to hop into bed with him for some well-earned cuddles. “Just thinking about how your arms would look gorgeous while carrying me. And I’ll instead spoil you with anything you want in the world as a reward.” 

You bury yourself against his lean chest and mumble with a smile “You want me to carry you like a princess?” 

“Anyway you deem fit - and you’ll have me at your feet, my sweet. Say, how should I reward you for your gift today? Should we go on a shopping spree? I’ll commission the best tailors of Snezhnaya to sew all the garments you dream of. Oh, or perhaps I should spoil you with newly bought cosmetics?” 

Pantalone mused to himself, all while caressing your hair. You shook your head: “No, no. You know I don’t like when you spoil me too much. I feel guilty when you spend money on me. Besides, I’ve got everything I want.”

“Don’t be too humble, my dear. If you asked me to bathe you in a honeyed milk bath and drape you with silk, you know I’d drop every Mora to do so in an instance.” - he kissed the top of your head and whispered in your ear. “Unless you wish me to bathe with you in such sweet waters, instead.” 

Pantalone expected a reaction, but instead, you quickly asked him: “Put your glasses away for a moment, please.” 

He obliged, “...Yes? -Ah!” 

Your response was slapping him with a pillow across his face. At least you were considerate with his glasses. 

“Preposterous. Can't a man feel proud at the prospect of spoiling his beloved with luxuries?”

“Pantaloons, I warn you.” - you said threateningly, though your act of bravery looked more endearing as you clutched the pillows for another attack. 

Pantalone furrowed his eyebrow “Don't start me with those nicknames, honey.”

You grinned “... Pantyhose.”

“Dear.”

“Mr… Panties.”

“That's it, you come here!” 

Not heeding his warning, the man enveloped you in ticklish embraces so you wouldn't escape. Your giggles of help and mercy were left unheard as you were pinned to the soft batch of pillows. His lips sought your own to silence those ridiculous nicknames that kept testing his patience. And undoubtedly, your kisses tasted sweeter than honey and violetgrass. 

A small illustration for this fic is here! I don't know how else to portray 'reader' without it looking awkward, so instead I drew the Traveler in it. Hope no one minds!

[genesiseven]

𝑭𝑺𝑴 ✩ 𝑮𝑹𝑬𝑬𝑫𝒀 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤᥕᥲrᥒ . Jealousy, pure fluff, implied fem bodied reader, mentions of feminine ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ nicknames (my lady, etc), slightly ooc pantalone and childe? Mentions diluc ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Yanqing and childe.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsᥙm . When the both of you are on a date and your friend happens to accidentally ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ bump into you and all of your attention turns to them.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤᥴһᥲr . Jing Yuan, Kaeya, Pantalone.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤᥕord coᥙᥒt . 1,981

𝐈 ✩ 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍

It came as a surprise when jingyuan had told you he had called off work for you, this was due to his feeling of you feeling lonely, and unloved.

A day made special just for the both of you, an entire day spent together, roaming around mindlessly, laughing in each other's embrace. It was a stress reliever for him, smiling and laughing till tears came rolling upon his eyes.

As the both of you walked to the restaurant where he had a spot specially reserved for you and him, a friend happened to spot you. Calling out and running to your presence, which successfully made you avert your gaze and attention to your friend, which was Yanqing.

What felt like hours were only a few minutes of talking, enough for jing yuan to glare at Yanqing, hoping it would be enough to make him leave. But all attempts came to no avail.

While he hadn't had the courage to speak due to you looking happier than ever, he wanted time alone with you, for it has been weeks since he has a proper conversation with you.

It took him awhile to build up confidence in order to confront you and him.

"I apologise yanqing but me and my beloved have places to be, I'd highly appreciate if you two would talk after. Would that be alright for you and Yanqing?" He turned to look at you, with the usual calm smile. Hoping you would agree with him. You blinked wide eyed, remembering that the both of you had a date "ah, yes, Me and my darling have a date together!, We may talk another time Yanqing, it was of great pleasure to talk with you." "Oh of course, I shall see you another time then (y/n)!, I gotta say general is a lucky guy to have a pretty lady such as you" he teased for fun, it was a harmless joke, with a shit-eating grin, he left in a hurry before the calmly annoyed could do anything. You chuckled at his jealousy "what, can't handle a few minutes of me talking with my friend?" "Those 'few minutes' felt like three hours.." he mumbled under his breath, loud enough for you to hear. "I suppose we should go, before someone else takes our spot yea?" "Of course my dear."

Safe to say, you made sure to tease jing yuan of the incident that night.

𝐈𝐈 ✩ 𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀

There the favonius Calvary captain stood, with luxurious clothing adorning and flattering his body, the clothing of fine material shipped from nation to nation. Clothings he only wore on special occasions.

Today, was that special occasion.

A two month vacation off, to be spent with you, his darling, giving him and you undivided attention that the both yearned for since the moment of your relationship. Due to him being loaded with work, affection was less, since he came back tired and sleepy. Which you didn't mind, as long his pretty sleeping face kept you company, you didn't mind. But at times, you need his affection, his loving slick words, to come down and shower your longing soul with the happiness it begs. This he knew of, very well. He wanted to shower you with his grace, his undying love and his embrace, and these two months are gonna be just that.

The day after his vacation began, he had reserved a special location, a beautiful restaurant filled with loving flowers which bloomed and hit everyone with its alluring aroma, the special date places being filled with just the right amount of greenery. A candle at both sides, plates and utensils placed perfectly, with a beautiful, two roses, one light pink, the other red, in a glass. Hugged by each other's thorns and petals.

As he and you walked to the restaurant, a certain red hair happened to bump into the both of you. Apologising, not having the knowledge who it was until his eyes fell upon the two figures. "Ah, kaeya, y/n. A surprise meeting the two of you. What brings you to this restaurant?" He asked, having no intention of getting in between your date. While he did hate chit-chats, he wouldn't mind them on occasions, for today, he was having a surprisingly good day "oh nothing much brother, just treating my lady to a date." He said, his tone teasing as ever. Enough to fluster you "oh shut up" you spoke out of embarrassment.

Soon, both Diluc, you and kaeya had sat down, kaeya looking out the window, arms folded and his leg sitting on his knee. His eyebrows furrowed, annoyed. The small chit-chat had turned to a long convo of who knows what topic, he didn't care for it. All he wanted was to treat you to a long awaited date and now his brother had come in and swooped all you attention from him.

It was soon, well, later, til you realised that the date you had was late as the waiter came to your table, asking for if you would like a glass of water. "Oh no, it's okay sir! I apologise diluc, we could continue this conversation another time hm? I have a date to attend." "Oh of course (name), I apologise if I have made the two of you late." He quickly said, looking at kaeya, who had a scowl resting on his face. He stood as soon as his ears picked up on the words the both of you said. "Yes, yes, I suppose so. See you later, brother." His tone was impatient and annoyed as his eyes looked down upon diluc's.

As you bid goodbyes, kaeya walked you to the elevator, by which was graced by the god's to have no people inside of it. It was gonna be a long ride, since the place he had reserved stood at the very top, where the both of you can gaze the morning sky together. As the doors closed, his hands tugged at your waist, pulling you closer, you looked at him, confuse and naive to kaeya's sad yet calm face "you ought to give me kisses this night." He said, kissing your face and neck with his soft lips. "Awh what did I doo" you moaned, with a smile he oh-so-adores "oh don't act foolish now, you totally just forgot we had a date." He said with a slick and calming voice, not scolding or mad. Simply and slightly upset. "Oh dearie, you know i didn't mean thattt, I got carried away in the conversation, which is, by no means, an excuse, I will be sure to never make the same mistake hm?" Your arms hung loosely around his shoulders, your eyes dreamy and dazed as you took in his prettiness, kissing him. As the kiss broke, you spoke, still dreamy "I can't believe I will have you all for myself for two whole months.." kaeya chuckled as he cupped your face. "Someone clearly can't get enough of me today hm?" "Kaeyaa, don't ruin the moment!"

By the time kaeya could get another word out, the both had reached their destination. "Well that was a short ride." He said, stepping out the elevator. He kneeled half way, taking your hand and bowing "shall we, m'lady?" You let out a chuckle, with a response "of course, gentleman."

𝐈𝐈𝐈 ✩ 𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄

A head rested gently against pantalone's shoulder, eyes closed and a small smile flattering the woman's, his girlfriend, face. Dressed in fine white silk, and jewellery brought by the ever-loving pantalone, laid perfectly on your body. Your hands and body leaned against him, as his arm was wrapped around you, ensuring you got the warmth in the cold car. Which you purposely made cold by turning on the AC, just to use the excuse of being close to your lover.

It was no surprise he had understood this, after all, he is the mighty and intelligent harbinger of the fatuus. The calm and loving moment was cut short as the driver announced you had reached the desired destination. To which pantalone immediately walked out the car, just to come to your side of the car, to graciously open the car door and take your hand to escort you to the palace like dining restaurant. You took his hand in offer, leaving the car and thanking the fatuus driver, as the both of you were walking into the restaurant, you spoke in a gentle soft voice he loved "oh pantalone, how many times must I tell you that you mustn't spoil me with your riches" he had heard these same words several times throughout his relationship with you, chuckling, he responded "my beloved wife shall only have the finest places snezhnaya can offer." He said in his usual velvety voice, used only around you. The little nickname he had used in his nickname had made you blush, little reds creeping up your cheeks. Noticing this, pantalone took up the chance to tease, which was interrupted by someone.. "Regrator! What are you doing here at a time like this?" Annoyed as he understood the voice of the person, who was, his colleague, childe… he spoke in a rather uninterested tone "Just taking my fine lady out for a dinner, I shall be asking the same question for you, tartaglia." His eyes fell upon childe's, which was looking at you, not in a romantic way, but as friend he has known way. "Oh just meeting a friend" not interested in a chit chat, he hadn't responded, but you had. "Oh childe, how must your family be doing? Are they doing fine?" You questioned, "they are quite fine actually, unfortunately I have heard teucer had a little accident while playing, but he will be fine in no time." He responded in the enthusiast tone pantalone hated so much. "That is relieving to hear, I believe we do not have the time to spare for a little chit-chat, would that be right dear?" Pantalone spoke, interrupting your talk, "ah yes, I'm sorry childe but I shall get going, we have a little date here" you giggled, your arms around pantalone's in a married like fashion. "Of course of course, by all means, have fun. I will be going too as well, see you sometime later (name)!" Childe said, waving a bye as he ran out the restaurant in a hurry.

At the hearing of your name slipping out childe's mouth was enough to make him groan, annoyed and dissatisfied. It was only after pantalone had came out from the register, you had teased pantalone about his annoyed face. "Someone's jealous" pantalone rolled his eyes in a playful manner as the both of you stepped into the elevator "I wouldn't say jealous would be the right word.." pantalone grumbled. "Oh then what would be, greedy of his possesion?" You chuckled out, pantalone smirked, the smirk you knew and hated, knowing that he's about to do something to you "pantalone, wait!- wait! No that tickles!" You said as you broke into a fit of giggles and laughter, the moment he stopped, he had kissed you with a sigh. "I feel as if I'm in debt to the Gods for gifting me with a such a gem like you." He sighed out "I feel too that i was blessed with such a wonderful loving husband like you" you said hugging him, as the nickname rolled out your tongue so perfectly.

This he noticed, blushing slightly, he looked away. Murmering loud enough for you to hear "I prefer if you'd call me that again." You slapped him lightly on the chest playfully "oh shut up, husband" he chuckled as he lead you to the single table, with two chairs. And a starry night with the moon sharing it's rays with the couple as the both sat down, enjoying the cold yet warm night.

Tags: @mikacynth @kaelily heheh kaeya simps

This is my first fic so pls don't be mean lmao, headers belong to me and are made by me :) art is from the genshin manga website and some are from in game!!

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