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glimmeringtwilight · 1 month

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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.

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mondaymelon · 1 year

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actually... im fine with it. (yandere!pantalone x gn!reader)

warnings! yandere implications, mentions of kidnapping and being tied up (not sexually), fluff

(a/n) requested by an anon!! tysm for requesting ♡ reminder that requests are open!!

˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"Are you awake?" A gloved hand reached out and grasped you chin lifting it up to give the holder a closer look of your expression.

Slowly blinking open your eyes, you surveyed the room quietly, noting that there were chains on the wall, along with a bed, and there were no windows. Your wrists burned, too, from where they were tied up behind you on the chair you were sitting on. The only source of light in the dimly-lit room was the small, singular chandelier that hung on the ceiling, seeming oddly out of place considering how grim the entire scene looked.

Finally, you focused your gaze at the man in front of you, still holding your chin and giving you a close-eyed smile. "Where am I?"

The black-haired man in front of you didn't skip a beat, only taking his hand of your chin and instead gesturing to the area. "A special place I prepared just for you."

"Why am I here?"

The man laughed. "My, you're taking this awfully calmly. You're here because I brought you here, of course."

well no shit. even i could make out that much.

"Who are you?" You questioned, although almost immediately regretted it after seeing the man's expression darken.

"Hahah... of course." Laughing, he stood up, from which he had originally been bending down to match your height. "You never even noticed me."

Thoughts ran through your head as you tried to put his face to names, but none matched until something lit up in your brain. "Pantalone?"

"Yes, that is my name." Pantalone sighed sorrowfully, his gaze never leaving your face. "But to you, I was just the kind man who you helped give directions to."

"How- Why-"

"Because I love you, my angel. More than you will ever realize."

You stayed silent at the sudden confession, although considering that you were the one that was restrained in some unknown place, it would be unwise of you to decline. Archons know what he would do to you.

"I've been watching you for weeks. Not through my underlings... I can't trust them. You're too lovely, they'd fall in love with you too, and then I'd have another problem to deal with. No... I watched you out of my own love, saving you from whatever trouble you had encountered behind the scenes and always making sure that you would be okay." Pantalone didn't seem to care whether you were listening or not, but rambled on anyway, his voice only becoming more and more desperate.

"But then some guy came to your house and saw me, and then began asking for you. Who does he think he is, asking to see you so casually??" The man's voice broke off into a low growl as his expression contorted into one of rage. "So I took care of him."

"You... killed him??"

"Darling, come on now, don't be mad at me. It was for your own good. After that, I knew it was much too dangerous to be living alone in a world of predators, so I generously took you in. This is where you'll be staying from now on. With me until the end of time."

"..."

"You answer? You can't refuse, but I'd still like another opportunity to hear your beautiful voice again."

"...Actually... I'm fine with it." You had come to the conclusion in the matter of seconds, but from what little knowledge you knew, you concluded that Pantalone had to have been powerful in status, careful with his plans, and also dangerous enough to have anyone look the other way to what he was doing. And considering the jeweled chandelier that dangled about five feet away from you, you also concluded that Pantalone was considerably wealthy. Not only that, but during his speech, you couldn't help but feel... moved. He had gone to such lengths just to make sure that you'd rest easy.

Not only that, he was also quite the looker himself. With that curly, soft black locks and fair face, every time you looked at him, you could feel your heart skip a beat. And if you really were to live here, then wouldn't that mean you wouldn't have to pay rent? And you'd get free meals everyday?

If he was shocked, he hid it well. Nevertheless, he wasn't able to stop the utterly confused expression flitting across his face. "You're... okay with it? I mean- that's good- but I expected at least a little resistance." He didn't seem disappointed per say, more just startled that you had actually agreed from what free will you had.

"Well... yeah. I mean... sure, you're a pretty dangerous person, but you do seem to actually care for me. Not only that, I wouldn't have to pay rent, get free food... not to mention that you're quite handsome yourself." Attempting to explain yourself, you winced as the tight ropes cut into your skin. Immediately, Pantalone rushed forward, uttering you quiet apologies as he cut the ropes off your hands with a knife that he had hidden in his sleeve.

He cleared his throat as you watched you settle into a more comfortable position, remorsefully noting the reddened bruises on your wrists. "I'm... handsome to you?"

As you nodded, he turned away, but you were able to spot his flushing ears that his hair was tucked behind.

"Aha... You really are too kind." The black-haired man smiled at you. "This is for the better. If you really are agreeing this steadily, then it means you won't try to run away. And if that doesn't happen, we can live together. Happily for the rest of our lives." And just like that, he swiftly leaned forward, holding your chin up with both hands as his soft lips met yours and engulfed you into a kiss. You felt your face burn warm, but you didn't resist, nor did you want to. Sensational fireworks seemed to light off from every inch of your skin, diving your consciousness in a sea of warmth. When Pantalone finished, he pulled away only slightly, giving you a smirk that played on his lips.

"You can expect more of that later."

masterlist ✩

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k0komis · 2 years

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❦ Control ❦

Pairing: Tartaglia, Dottore, Pantalone and Pierro with Fem-Bodied!Reader (separately)

Synopsis: You belong only to them, and how do they make sure you can't escape? Contains bonus NS.FT for every character.

Warnings: MINORS BEGONE | Yandere themes, Manipulation, Dark Content, Dub-Con, Sexual Content, Misuse of Medicine (Dottore), Financial Dependency (Pantalone), Breeding (Pantalone), Kidnapping (Tartaglia), Unhappy Relationship, Pierro's one is vague because there's not much canon stuff about his personality

.｡.:*♡ It takes no words to know that Pierro is dangerous. He'll tell you about how dangerous the world is, and then he'll remind you that he's worse. You can't run away from him. It's instilled in your very being that no matter where you hide, he will find you and dig his claws deeper and deeper into you. His presence is enough to make you cower in fear of what might happen if you disobey him.

.｡.:*♡ Every time you have sex with him feels like he's devouring you. He's extremely silent, he neither degrades not praises you. He knows what he wants and will take it from you whether you like it or not. He's big and he knows it, he also knows it's painful for you to fit around him, but look into those scarred eyes of his and you'll know he enjoys your pain.

.｡.:*♡ Truth be told, Dottore hates the thought of losing you. You were the most beautiful specimen he's seen, the most detailed book he's every touched. And he wants to keep you to himself, for eternity. So if you find your health rapidly decline, to the point you have to depend on another human being, know it's the Doctor. He'll make you terribly sick and then spend hours tending and curing you. Just accept his thoughtfulness already, not like you'd last a second without another one of his syringes piercing your veins.

.｡.:*♡ Oh how he loves seeing you shiver in his arms from the aphrodisiacs he just gave you. He loves your squeezing your eyes shut and trying to not give yourself in to what your body wants. His grip on your hips were cold and demanding, travelling lower and lower with every single second. He shushed your whines, licking away the sweat collecting at your jawline. He felt excited, thinking about just how adorable you were completely dependent on him. You need him for your pleasure too! And all that excitement was travelling straight down to his crotch. He would cup your ass, whispering sweetly in your ears about how you need to pleasure him first to receive his kindness.

.｡.:*♡ The Regrator is a master tactician. Pantalone knows the exact way to keep you with him, and he had kept his patience and built up to this very moment. The harbinger had been sponsoring your every move, sabotaging any methods through which you could've earned for yourself. He makes sure you feel indebted to him, and worship him for the kindness he shows you. And every time a spark of hesitation shows up in you? He'll threaten to cut off any money he's giving you- He'll remind you of your family who won't be able to provide fir themselves in this snowy land. He loves you to the depths of abyss, and being your sugar daddy both helps you out and keeps you bound to him.

.｡.:*♡ Pantalone loves seeing your tearful eyes as his dick is rearranging your guts. He loves how you're unable to complain as your simply paying him back. He scolds you for not being used to his affection yet, considering how many times you two had sex. He promises to fill you up- and he'll say that as if he's doing you a favour - and he'll tell about how you don't have to worry about the expenses of having a child. After all, even if you dared to leave him, you're not heartless enough to abandon a child, are you?

.｡.:*♡ Tartaglia never understood why you seem to be scared of him. He thought you were fragile, so he took his time to be protective of you. What do you mean that man wasn't threatening you and he needn't kill him? Soon after one point, he was getting tired of you trying to shove him away. He simply decided to take you to his homeland and keep you safe in his quarters. He silenced all your pleas and cries with affectionate kisses, raking his fingers through your hair as you sobbed on his lap.. Snezhnaya was a little harsh to newcomers- but he was sure you'd adapt in a few weeks. But this nation also helped him in a way- you'd never be able to escape without the help of Fatui. And which Fatui would disobey a harbinger?

.｡.:*♡ He loved tying you up. There was something that made him feral seeing you struggle against your bonds. He felt proud of himself for finally making you his. There was no where you could go to now, and nothing could possibly hurt you- except him, that is. He had promised you that he'd always entertain you, and he proved so with his dick. But strangely, he'd always ask for your consent first. A little something that made it feel like you still have an ounce of freedom left. Though it's hard to ascertain if it has any ulterior motive or not.

.｡.:*♡ (Bonus) Tartaglia was like a lovesick puppy. Though he kept you locked, he'd always beg for your affection. He never forced anything on you. He'd sit down beside you and tell you about all the hardships he has faced in his life, and sometimes he'd even borrow your shoulder to cry on. It like... He wants someone to give him time, and since no one in his childhood did, he forced that responsibility onto you- in exchange for keeping you 'safe'.

#pierro x reader #dottore x reader #pantalone x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #ajax x reader #regrator x reader #pierro smut #dottore smut #pantalone smut #tartaglia smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin #tw dubcon #tw yandere #tw dark content #💦 writings

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satinroses · 2 days

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how Yan! harbingers would react to you cheating (separate)

Gn! Reader

A/N: i regret to inform you but there’s no Pulcinella, Pierro, Arlecchino or Sandrone :[ i’m sorry i just don’t know their charas well enough yet/i don’t feel qualified to guess (i haven’t finished fontaine archon quest yet :0) also im sorry scara's is so long... hes my fav :]

Warnings: dark content ahead, if you aren’t comfortable with dark themes please don’t read!! delusions, infantilisation, minor character death, torture, THINLY veiled threats, explicit violence, obsessive behaviour, murder, vaguely implied non-con, financial manipulation

Capitano:

Throughout all the harbingers Il Capitano was the sole member who adhered to a strict code of honour. Despite his obsession with you he had always tried to treat you with chivalry and honour - even if his heart desperately lusted for him to steal you away for himself. It was well known among his fellow harbingers just how deeply Capitano idolises his beloved spouse, seeing you as his own personal beacon of light.

Naturally when the news reaches his ears he refuses to believe such vile insults being levied against you. Instead he has the rumour monger brought towards him so that he may personally administer a punishment for daring to speak against his beloved.

Capitano refuses to believe you would betray him in such a matter unless you decide to tell him yourself or he catches you in the act. He would need a moment to collect himself, his mind racing with thousands of different explanations and reasons. He had never once raised a hand towards you, he brought you gifts from his travels around Teyvat, he never allowed anyone to speak against you and yet you still betrayed him… Then he realises - clearly your supposed ‘lover’ has led you astray. That’s the only logical explanation. That filthy low life had whispered honeyed lies in your ear and in your naivety you had believed them. That wretch has sullied your honour and as your spouse it's his solemn duty to shield you from such vile brutes.

When someone as sweet and virtuous as you exists within such a tainted land it’s only natural that greedy grasping hands will try to stray you away from Il Capitano’s benevolent gaze. It’s not your fault. You clearly didn’t know better. He should have held you much closer to his chest. This was all his own fault.

Alas he cannot turn back time but he can ensure justice is fulfilled. He won't allow the miscreant that sullied his beloved’s honour to parade about without any consequences, so he does as any respectable man would and challenges your new lover to a duel for your honour.

When the first harbinger challenges a man to a duel it’s commonly regarded to be a death sentence and this is no different. Capitano truly tells himself that he is doing this entirely for your own good but the rage in the way his claymore swings down on your beloved’s head tells an entirely different story. Capitano had killed the man with the first swing of his claymore yet the blows kept raining down upon their body until all that remained was a pulverised mass of flesh. Capitano hadn’t killed them, he had butchered them. It’s clear this duel was not as selfless as he would lead you to believe. Despite his vehement denial, this was not for your honour but rather for his own twisted vengeance.

Tears stream softly down your cheeks as you watch Capitano slaughter your lover but once the fight is over he rushes over to you. His hands cup your face as he shushes you gently, cradling you softly as he tucks your head into his chest. Because of his penchant for darker clothing you couldn’t see your lover’s blood staining him but as your face was buried against Capitano’s chest you could feel the crimson ichor staining your face as you inhaled the coppery scent.

Childe:

Tartaglia relished in challenges, exhilarated by new chances to prove his strength and test his power yet somehow this new obstacle was not as enjoyable as he might have predicted - perhaps because he now realised he was losing. All those dreams of marrying you, raising children with you, growing old together felt like mere delusions when he realised that your heart now lies with another.

Tartaglia is commonly regarded as one of the more level headed harbingers, sure he had an inhumane amount of strength and the combat prowess to match yet that was a given to climb as high in the Fatui as he had. In spite of his usual friendly demeanour Tartaglia felt a bitter emotion brewing in his heart.

Upon learning of your infidelity the eleventh harbinger can’t help but laugh. He truly believed everything had been going so well between you two - I mean sure sometimes he got a little possessive and maybe his feelings for you were so intense he felt like they were going to burst out of his chest, splitting him clean open - but he was human! He had flaws too! He just couldn’t understand what this other guy possibly had. Well it’s not like he’ll need to either.

Tartaglia sets down his bow, instead settling on a blade. He wouldn’t use half his strength to murder the rival for your affections, besides he wanted this fight to be close and personal. He wanted them to see him coming.

He marches straight for your lover, challenging them for your hand in a public setting so they can’t help but feel honorbound to accept. He makes an entire spectacle out of the duel and he ensures you’re there too so you can see just how utterly pathetic and out-classed your supposed lover is, so you can realise he is clearly the better choice. Ultimately your lover stands little chance against the mighty harbinger, struck down with unmatched brutality, the glint in Tartaglia’s eye showing just how much he’s enjoying massacring his rival.

He looks confused when he looks aside from the bloodied corpse left behind to see you struggling against the two Fatui agents restraining you to keep you from interfering with their master’s duel. “Why are you upset? You were clearly conflicted between us but now your pretty little head doesn’t have to worry about it! You couldn’t decide so I decided for you.” he says before leaning in closer, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispers “and if you ever feel conflicted again, come straight to me and I'll be sure to decide for you again.”

Columbina:

You had always felt… unnerved by Columbina. She was always so delicate with you, caressing your hair sweetly, holding you tenderly, brushing soft kisses against your lips and cheeks and yet - something about her felt off, unnatural even. There was something about her that was not entirely human and perhaps that’s what led you to seek comfort in the arms of another.

When you decided to tell her of this you had expected the saccharine facade to melt, to be met with the monstrosity you feared was hiding behind her angelic demeanour. Instead she simply smiled gently, almost knowingly. Her grin never once falters when she arises from her spot on the floor, patting your head as she skips out the door of the room. You stand in the foyer utterly perplexed by her behaviour but terrified she might inflict her wrath upon you if you lingered. You ran back upstairs to your own chambers, your head buried beneath the blankets as you tried to steady your breathing. You stayed there until the sun began to rise, having half expected Columbina to creep into your bedroom in the night and inflict some bloody vengeance on you. Instead the morning came without incident.

You crept down to the dining room where breakfast was being laid out by the maids. It was utterly silent and Columbina still hadn’t arrived with the only noise being the gentle clattering of porcelain and your own breathing as the table was set. There sat the morning paper in your usual spot, you didn’t feel inclined to read, far too on edge about Columbina’s surprisingly docile reaction to your infidelity. You were about to move the paper aside entirely until your eyes brushed across the headline

“12 FOUND DEAD LAST NIGHT: AUTHORITIES PERPLEXED”

You all but collapsed into your chair as you opened the paper. Vomit bubbling up your throat as you continue reading. 12 people of similar physical appearances were found slaughtered in their homes with no signs of breaking and entering, no witnesses and no sign of a struggle. It's likely the victims hadn’t even known their assailant was in the room until they were already dead. A terrifying tale no doubt but what truly unnerved you was the very clear resemblance the victims held to you. From skin colour, to hair colour, to eye colour, height and weight, you and the victims were near identical with only minimal differences. You couldn’t breathe. Your heart was hammering so violently you swore you could feel it against your very ribcage. They didn't even know their attacker had entered the room until they were already dead… how did you know that she hadn’t crept into your room last night, standing there, deciding whether she would do it or not…

Hot tears welled in your eyes as you heard the soft patter of bare feet wander into the dining room. She sat down in the seat directly across from you, still beaming at you. This smile was different however, her grin was tight against her face and very clearly forced, far too big to look natural on the woman. This smile was not a smile, it was a warning.

Il Dottore:

Quite possibly the worst outcome for both you and your lover. Il dottore is not a man to be trifled with, even his fellow harbingers could acknowledge that. You don't even need to tell him about your affair, he already knew. He could tell from the way you shied away from his touch, how easily startled you were nowadays, how your pupils dilated and breath quickened when you stared at your new beau.

However Il Dottore is an eternally proud man, his genius and academic revelations had single handedly transformed Snezhnaya into the Military power house of Teyvat. By turning to another for love and affection you had inadvertently snubbed the second harbinger and by your new lover daring to set their sights on something that so clearly belonged to Il Dottore… he wouldn’t accept it.

Dottore’s cruelty was almost as revered as his genius. To think someone had tried to steal away the affections of the one person he found worthy enough to love. Your lover will suffer a fate worse than death, that much is certain. Dottore is never against fresh meat to experiment on, perhaps he’ll see how many parts the human body can lose before dying, or maybe he’ll discover just how much skin he can flay off a man until he eventually dies. Don’t worry Dottore has always strove for perfection in all matters, particularly academic endeavours. He will find a way to keep your lover alive through his experiments for as long as humanly possible if only to ensure his results are accurate.

Now the moment he hears of your affair his mind is rife with ideas for your lover yet don't worry, he has plenty of ideas left for you too. From here on out you will never be without one of his segments watching over you. He will have constant eyes on you. You will never know a moment of freedom from Il Dottore but please don't fret my love, in his cold, twisted heart he does have a soft spot even if you refuse to believe it, so go ahead and dry your tears and be his agreeable little darling again or else he may leave you in the care of some of his other segments who are much less knowledgeable on how to love, on how to be tender with their darling and are far more inclined to simply take what they want rather than ask nicely.

If you still haven’t begun to return to doting upon him, or worse you take another lover… lets just say some of the younger segments have several questions about human biology that even the ingenious Il Dottore would struggle to answer without an example. So shape up or you might wake up strapped to his operating table so his segments can get a good look at how the interior of the human body functions and well… while he’s already gone to the trouble of cutting you open, wouldn't it be a shame if his name just so happened to be carved onto your heart. Don't worry! for that procedure, he'll give you some anaesthesia. After all, he doesn't want your squirming to make him hit anything important.

La Signora:

La Signora has lost and loved before she met you. After her husband's death she encased herself within an icy shell but whether intentionally or not you warmed her bleak broken heart and returned her fire and passion for life. With you she was Rosalyne not the crimson witch and for that she treasured and adored you above all else.

Rosalyne was all too familiar with the sting of losing a loved one but she had never had her lover willingly stray from her side. To know you would leave her after all she did for you? That you would betray her after she protected you time and time again, sheltered you from the cruel realities of this world and let you live in the lap of luxury… it was clear she had spoiled you far too much.

First she would start with the wretch who dared compete with her for your affections. She plucks his heart out as she did to that pathetic Anemo archon before charring it before his very eyes. Let his last sight be his own scorched heart falling from her hands and into the dust, where filth like him deserved to stay. To think he even thought he could compare with the illustrious 8th harbinger for your love… the wretched fool deserved far worse than what she gave him. Now that she thought of the man again, she could feel the crimson flame in her chest rising as she turned back to the man's twitching corpse. They’d be lucky if even ashes remained once she was done venting her rage on what was left of the man.

As for the matter of punishing her beloved… La Signora had always been a firm woman but for the sake of you and your happiness she had given you certain allowances and privileges such as walks in the garden, visiting Snezhnayan boutiques with her, having your favourite treats imported. That stops now. In her 500 years of life her ire had never once been turned towards you but now, with such a blatant betrayal… even her patience can run out. Perhaps a more permanent reminder of your status as hers is needed. How about we start with searing her name into your flesh with her flame?

Pantalone:

Having grown up in absolute poverty, Pantalone had fought tooth and nail for everything he had, crawling from the slums of Liyue to the very apex of the Tsaritsa’s court was no small feat. The thing is when growing up in poverty one quickly learns to cling onto what they value so it was no surprise that upon falling in love for the first time Pantalone was quick to assert himself into every aspect of your life. He wouldn’t be able to rest easily unless he knew for absolute certain that you were firmly grasped within the palm of his hand.

You were his most prized possession. So when he got news that someone else had spirited away your affections he was filled with the same raw, red hatred he had felt as a boy. The feeling of seeing another have what you rightfully deserve. Since he was a boy he had vowed that whenever someone took something from him he would reap the value of it tenfold. Upon learning of your infidelity you are immediately confined to his estate, all exits heavily guarded by Fatui agents. He encages you within his elaborate mansion not even allowing you to wander into the illustrious gardens. Each door is bolted and every curtain drawn tight as Pantalone refuses to allow the outside world to gain even a passing glance of his darling. The people outside clearly don't understand how to stay away from what is not theirs.

Don’t fear precious one, he doesn’t hold this against you… you’ve always been so weak willed, so vulnerable. It’s no surprise that sooner or later some brute would come and take advantage of your delicate demeanour. It’s really his own failing as a husband but don’t worry, you don’t climb as high as he has without learning from your mistakes and he will make certain that there will never be a repeat of this little incident. From here on out you will be kept firmly in his grasp. No one will see or speak to you without his explicit permission.

If you thought his gift giving was rather excessive before, now it's become suffocating. You're drowning in trinkets and presents. Everyday you're presented with rare delicacies, decorated with precious gems from head to toe and dressed in the finest silk garments imported all across Teyvat with his particular preferences in mind. He will do whatever it takes to keep you with him even if he has to clasp your hands in solid gold shackles to keep you close or weigh your pockets down with rubies and sapphires to keep his little treasure from flying away.

Oh don't worry he hasn't forgotten about that pesky little ‘lover’ of yours. Within an hour of learning of your infidelity Pantalone has the man’s full name, medical records, ancestry and blood type sitting in his hands. You’d be surprised at how eager people are to get in the good graces of the head of the Northland bank and the ninth harbinger. Your affair partner has been blacklisted from almost any job and anywhere that does hire him is immediately bought out or its owner suddenly has Fatui knocking on their door demanding exorbitant amounts of money in “debts” to the Northland bank. Your lover will be financially ruined, any family or friends who try to reach out and support him will similarly be suddenly met with financial ruin. Only once Pantalone has stripped every part of joy from your lover’s life and isolated them from all they love will he be finally satisfied to send them off to Dottore as a little present, after all the Doctor is always enthused by new test subjects.

Scaramouche:

Scaramouche is a naturally covetous man, even in normal circumstances he is undoubtedly the most possessive of the Harbingers. Everyone he has ever treasured has slipped through his fingers, now that he once again feels love he refuses to allow it slide through his grasp again.

Scaramouche would already keep you primarily confined to his estate with only very rare outings. On the occasions he is summoned to the tsaritsa’s side he makes sure to have several handmaidens and guards watching over you and If he must travel from his residence in Snezhnaya he will take you with him for fear of you falling ill or fleeing while he is away but even then you’re confined either to your carriage or the bedroom where Scaramouche is staying.

Despite his confident and cruel demeanour Scaramouche is a deeply insecure man who truly believes himself to be unworthy of your love however he cannot help himself from craving your sweet affections and doting all for himself. He dresses you in identical colours as himself, he hand paints his signature red eyeliner under your eyes every day, he ensures you smell of his favourite things and that you are dressed in traditional Inazuman fashions.

If you somehow managed to cheat on him Scaramouche would go utterly ballistic. You thought you had seen the sixth harbinger angry but the outburst you had seen couldn’t even compare to the tempest he would unleash upon you or any other person who dared to seek your affections. His estate would be a mess, shattered vases, broken chairs, torn clothing thrown about the rooms. Nothing survived his enraged outburst as curses and insults were thrown towards the man who dared steal away his beloved’s affection and adoration.

Scaramouche was restrictive before but now its unbearable. When he returns home after hearing the news he finds you waiting by the door for him, bowing politely as he had commanded you but instead of greeting you with a kiss or throwing off his elaborate hat he instead practically leaps towards you, his hand enclosing around your throat bringing your face to his as he hisses out

“You ungrateful whore. Do you really think I don't know about you and them? Did you really think you could hide it?”

He watches for a moment as your eyes widen as you realise what he's insinuating: he knows about your infidelity. Your eyes instantly flood with hot tears as you realise the torment that's about to be inflicted upon you. Unlike usual he takes no amusement in your distress, too overcome with the conflicting emotions bubbling inside him to even focus on how pretty you look with tears in your eyes.

His grip moves from your throat to your hair as he threads his fingers in it to grab you by the scalp before he drags you up the staircase of his estate. Too overcome with terror to be able to walk properly instead you allow him to drag you along by the hair as your trembling legs attempt to hobble after him.

Upon reaching your chambers he throws you down on the ground. You try not to take notice of the clump of your hair entwined in his fingers. Instead of punishing you however he instead turns back around, not even sparing you a glance as he storms out of the room, slamming the doors shut behind him. You lay splayed on the floor as he left you cradling your aching scalp as you wait for him to return with some device manufactured to inflict as much pain as possible.

Scaramouche does not return for many hours. It isn’t until the moon is high in the sky that the bedroom door opens and you see the balladeer return. The room fills with the coppery scent of blood, you’re certain if you had a lamp on you would see Scaramouche painted crimson. After several seconds of simply staring at your form the balladeer finally approaches you. Your whole body tenses as he bends down to lay himself on top of you, his head burrowed in your neck… was he about to rip your throat out with his very teeth? He could probably feel how hard your pulse was hammering under his cheek.

You waited for pain but it never came. Instead you felt the harbinger begin to softly shake, gentle sniffles being buried in your neck as his whole body curled in closer to yours. Your neck grows damp as Scaramouche tightens one arm around your waist and the other behind your head as he straddles your lying form. He uses his arm positions to pull you even closer to himself, his grip is verging on pain as he pushes your bodies together like he’s attempting to merge you together, to ensure you could never stray from his side. You half think you’ve imagined it when you hear the harbinger whisper in a hoarse tone

“Why can't you just love me?”

Maybe it was a sense of pity or you simply wanted him to calm down and get off you but regardless you wrapped your arms around him, cradling him softly. The harbinger’s cries ceased for a moment and you thought perhaps you had somehow managed to ignite his rage again but instead his shoulders began to shake violently as the intensity of his sobs picked up, wails coming out of him like a wounded animal as he clutched you close to him.

Only as the sun began to rise did Scaramouche manage to clamber out of your embrace, staggering out of the room. You stayed on the ground for another hour, trying to ignore the tacky, dried blood encrusted on your kimono. You changed your kimono before going downstairs for breakfast, hoping to gain an understanding of Scaramouche's mood, however as you went to push the doors open they wouldn’t budge an inch. He had locked the door tight behind him.

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mrlidocaine · 1 year

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Okay so hear me out on the hybrid au with Pantalone.

•you're a wild hybrid, say a snow leopard or a fox or sorts, something with white fur and a pretty appearance that lives in the snowy landscapes of Snezhnaya. You're chasing your meal as you crash into a Fatui camp. Pantalone is there, watching as you tumble into his tent

•His subordinates quickly stand to apprehend you, wild hybrids still a threat, especially predatory ones

•As the soldiers discuss which dealer to sell you too, the harbinger steps forward to say it won't be necessary. He'll keep you as his own

•You're whisked away to the palace and he commands some servants to bathe you, you're filthy and grimy from living in the wild your whole life. The servants get through it with only minor injuries

•Eventually you're clean and dry, your nails trimmed and tail and ears brushed out as you're sat in Pantalones room, near defenceless now

•You fit in beautifully, your soft white fur a contrast to his darkly coloured decorations, everything expensive and clean

•He's definitely got some manners and some English to teach you, but for now he's content watching you wonder why your claws are gone

#x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere #yandere genshin x reader #yandere fatui #yandere pantalone #yandere Regrator #yandere x reader #hybrid au #Mr.Rambles

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genshin-side-piece · 2 years

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The Manicurist

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+, Yandere themes, Yandere Behavior, Sexual Themes, Power Imbalance, Dark themes, My bad writing, Anything Else I Missed

Pantalone works with his hands.

Whether it's writing contracts or committing murder in the name of the Fatui, the man uses his hands a lot. As such, he tends to have issues with them on a regular basis. He suffers from cramps and fatigue due to spending most of his days with a pen in his hand. He’s found relief with medicinal stretches, but things get worse for him when the cold sets in for the winter. The touch of arthritis he’s developed as he’s gotten older will often flair up, forcing him to rely on his assistants to help him with the mundane things such as paperwork.

Being the high maintenance, rich bitch that he is, Pantalone has a team to keep him looking his best 24/7. He has an image to maintain. The last thing that should happen is that his hair should be a mess or archons forbid, he’s wearing last season's silks. He demands perfection, even if he’s a little too busy to notice when it doesn’t happen.

His hands though. He’s funny about them. Most of the staff aren’t allowed to touch them. Only his personal servant and maybe one assistant have actually seen the bare skin that exists beneath his gloves. The rest joke that to see, let alone touch the hands of the regrator is akin to seeing the face of the gods. The divinity of them is so assured, that some staff even spread rumors that he has a Midas touch and he hides hands, lest he turns everything he touches into gold. Others say he is the reaper of souls. One touch and you’ll fall stone dead.

It’s all nonsense, but Pantalone does little to stop it. There are worse things to be known for.

Because of his finicky nature surrounding his hands, the position of personal manicurist is often vacant. You’d heard the rumors surrounding the job. He had chewed the past candidates up and spit them out faster than a bad steak. But that didn’t deter you. A few inquiries into your predecessors had garnered key information. One had been let go due to extensive gossip. Another, insider trading. The list went on and on in terms of faults and failings, all while one constant seemed to emerge. None of the firings seemed to be skill based. If getting the job and then keeping it meant you had to be the sole of discretion, then you were more than ready to apply for it.

To your surprise, he takes you up on your application. It must have been a slow day in his office when it had arrived, because you hear back on it that afternoon. You’re summoned to his office the next day, where his personal assistant conducts the interview. From there, your skills are tested, retested, and looked into. His staff is thorough with their investigation. By the end, it feels like you’ve been flayed alive, but it’s worth it. At least that’s what you tell yourself when the offer letter arrives a week later.

The position itself isn’t a bad one. Being at his beck and call whenever he gets a hangnail isn't ideal, but you aren't one to turn down his money. Most mornings you find yourself seated next to him, silently filing his nails while he takes meeting after meeting. It’s not exactly satisfying, but it beats doing nails out of that crummy apartment you had before this. Slowly your mind began to drift further and you quickly stopped paying attention to what was going on around you. The discussion surrounding the economic distress in Mondstadt bored you to tears. You could have been anywhere but in Pantalone’s office at that moment, you would have been. Much to your own amusement, your mind decided to do just that. It started with going over the list of supplies you needed to give Pantalone’s assistant. You’d been carrying the silly piece of paper around with you for days, but neither you or the assistant had really had a free moment to discuss it. Pantalone had kept you both of your toes for nothing more than his own amusement. It was annoying, but you made a mental note to corner his assistant after this meeting. Celestia forbid you run out of Pantalone’s favorite cuticle oil and have to replace it with the generic stuff. How would he ever survive the indignity of it?

As you continued to work, you could feel the tension in his hands. If you had been paying attention like you were supposed to, you would have left it alone. But you hadn’t been and you didn’t. Instead, you wrapped your fingers around his and pushed your thumbs up into his palm in a circular motion in the hope to relieve some of the strain in the core of his hand. The soft sound that came from directly above your head snapped you out of your reverie. You stopped moving, your eyes falling on your oh so obvious blunder. You had been hired to do his nails. Just his nails. You had been meticulously instructed on how to do them and all that was permitted while doing them. Massages were not part of that list.

Your hands immediately released his and fell to your lap. Archons what had you done? You moved to apologize, but you stopped yourself before you ever even started. You couldn’t apologize. Pantalone’s one rule concerning his staff was that during meetings, they were to be seen and not heard. While you doubted any of the other attendees would really notice a mumbled apology over their terse voices, the point was Pantalone would notice and he would not approve. So you sat there, like an idiot. Power was everything to Pantalone. He exercised it with frightening regularity when it came to his servants. Your entire body shook at the endless possibilities of how he would choose to exercise it on you. Unlike the kitchen maids who messed up his food or the footman who sold his lesser secrets, you knew things. You had witnessed the assassination orders and secret plots to overthrow the governments of Teyvat. You had seen how dirty Pantalone’s hands really were. Firing you was simply not an option for him. That realization made your mind spin. In fact, you were so wrapped up in what he could do to you, that you completely missed his fingers gently brushing away the tears that fallen onto your cheeks.

By the time the meeting ends and the attendees are gone, you’re practically on your knees with regret. But he isn’t angry. Far from it actually. He liked your little snafu. He wants more of it. You’re asked if you think it would help with the horrible hand cramps he has and you’re all too quick to reply yes. He asks you about his other maladies as well. Can you help with those? Again, you answer yes. There are oils that will help with his arthritis, lotions for his dry skin. You even know a way to fix that one nail of his that likes to split when it gets too long. You offer them all to him in the hope that it will stay the hand of punishment that you thought was coming. It does. He smiles at you, telling you to advise his assistant of what you need. He expects all of it in due course, but for now, do that thing with your thumbs again. He says he hasn’t felt pleasure like that in years. Unbeknownst to you, his mind begins to wonder exactly how good those hands of yours can make other parts of him feel. He begins to wonder just how good you could make him feel.

Your relationship with him begins to change. It started as strictly professional. He provided you with a job and in turn, you provided him with a service. You had never worried much about your looks. A uniform and dress code had been provided for you on your first day. You think nothing of it when the laundress gives you a different one. It was more revealing than the last one, but you doubted he was really looking anyway. Pantalone cared more about you being good at your job than how much of your chest he could see thanks to the low cut of your uniform. You tell yourself he likes you because you’re calm, quiet, and diligent in your work. His hand resting on your hip, or his fingers toying with your hair is nothing. He’s playful when he’s in a good mood. Pantalone's favorite hobby is to tease and you know you’re the perfect target for it. He’s become an expert in making you blush.

Sometimes he worries about you though. He worries you’re not what you appear to be. That you know too much and that it’s a matter of time before it all comes crashing down. The result of his worries are that you are watched more than anyone else. Your room is often searched on a regular basis and he tends to test you more than the rest of his staff. He's fed you with trading tips, gossip, and fake Fatui secrets more than once, only to never have it get back to him. The fact that you pass every single time endears you to him. He finds it relief that out of everyone around him, he can rely on you to do as you're told.

The results of his diligence surrounding you yields an unexpected result. He comes to know you far better than any of his other servants. He’s aware of the boring things like your background and your family situation. He doesn’t find those parts terribly interesting. What he prefers are things like your perfume/cologne, what type of underwear you like, how you sound when you touch yourself. It’s terribly untoward to want to know that information. Pantalone knows that, but he doesn’t care. He’s gone past the point of no return where you’re concerned. He makes your life his business, even if he shouldn’t.

Eventually though, it all becomes too much. You do your best to ignore his less than palatable qualities, telling yourself others had it worse. But that didn’t mean you didn’t find yourself praying to the local archon about what you should do. You knew he wasn’t the most wonderful of people, but he pays you well enough to not mind or so he says. You try to grin and bear it, even if it grinds you mental health to dust, you try. But there comes a point where you can’t. When you have enough and ask to leave. Your request is denied. He advises you to reconsider. Pantalone is a powerful man and powerful men are more than capable of changing people’s minds should they need too. He should hate to have to employ such tactics with you. He doesn’t make a specific threat, but the implication is there. Your family, your friends, even you are all in his grasp. None of you would be safe from his wrath should you decide to invoke it. When you waiver, he switches tactics and softens his words. Pantalone tells you that you’re the best he’s ever had, that he can’t do without you. He needs you. It does little to convince you.

Pantalone purposefully ignores the main issue, which is his ever increasing hold on your life. He knows he’s been aggressive when it comes to you. The flirting, the nightly massages in his bed, the complete replacement of all your undergarments. It’s all too much for you. He’s too close. He respects that you want to be professional. He admires it. How many of his employees would jump at the chance to be in your shoes? How many would take advantage of his good will and fleece him for all they could? You? You just want to do your job. It’s a comforting thought. Too bad he had other plans for you.

In his effort to keep you, he offers a solution to one of your many woes. If his business dealings are a problem, then he understands. His work isn’t the most pleasant thing in the world and you sitting at his side 8 hours a day like the pet he thought you to be was a poor use of your time. Even the most loyal of dogs needs space, and so do you. He suggests that you come to him after hours, in the mornings and the evenings, as a way to give you a break during the day.

At first it’s a welcome change. His office had become a suffocating place. The issue had been made worse with the knowledge that your entire life had become his without you even knowing it. Now that you didn’t have to be in there, it is your hope that things can go back to how they were at the start. You believed that, until you walked in on him in a specific state of undress. The first time it happened, you thought it was an accident. You averted your eyes, apologies spilling from your lips as you hoped to appease him. He’d merely laughed off, telling you he was sure he could find a way for you to make it up to him. The fifteenth time it happened, it was all too clear what his motives really were. The fact that he insisted on a pedicure while wrapped in nothing but a towel had been mortifying. He only added to your humiliation by spreading his legs so you would have the perfect view of his semi erect c*ck while you worked. Afterwards, you were compensated for your trouble in the form of a small necklace and a half hearted apology. He assures you it won’t happen again, even though you both know it will. When it does, his feet have your full attention. He thinks it’s cute how you blush. How you try to conduct yourself with some level of decorum despite his c*ck being in your direct field of vision. It’s such a shame you’re so uncomfortable with it all. Perhaps it’s just a matter of being shown things can only get worse, especially for those who are chosen to occupy Pantalone’s private life.

He starts slow. That necklace he gave you as an apology, he wants you to wear it wherever you go. Since you aren’t in his office anymore, the uniform standards can be relaxed. Your hair doesn’t have to be so nicely coiffed. He’d like you to leave it undone or down. Your uniform seems uncomfortable, perhaps you should loosen it or better yet, stop wearing it. After all, he’s bought you some very nice things to wear underneath of it. Such a shame he never gets to see them. He’d like you to change that. Oh, you picked that for today, tsk tsk. How did something so modest get in the mix? Here, let him help you fix that. In fact, you’re such a mess when it comes to your normal outfits. Not to worry, he’ll decide what you wear for him from now on. Oh, but you’re so far away. Your room is on the other side of the house, Pantalone knows just how to fix that.

You want to scream. You want to run.

He knows it’s coming. Pantalone knows you well enough to know that your first instinct will be to run. He lets you try. It’s amusing to watch. How clever you think you are for stashing away one of the maids uniforms when you think he isn’t looking. How ingenious of you to stash your meager belongings near your chosen escape route. Pantalone almost had them moved, just to mess with you. But he opted not to. The game was more fun if you thought you were catching him off guard, at least until you actually managed to catch him off guard.

Pantalone had several key events coming up. The house would be quiet, the guards would be busy, he would be distracted. It would be the perfect time to make your escape. What a fool you made of him. He had never considered that you would choose to leave on a normal day, in broad daylight no less. It made sense though. Who would question one of the maids leaving the house, especially when it was at the height of the day, when Pantalone had neither the time nor the inclination to chase after you.

It’s late evening before anyone notices you’re gone. By then it’s far too late to launch a search. Your tracks are well and truly hidden by the night’s sky. Come the morning, the Gods blessed you further by sending a torrential downpour to erase any further traces of you. Pantalone isn’t one to be swayed by time or weather though. He’s a patient man. What kind of Harbinger would he be if he didn’t know how to hunt someone as harmless as you? It may take him a day, it may take him a year, but he will find you. When he does, well he has a nice golden cage all prepared, just for you.

#Pantalone #regrator #pantalone genshin #yandere pantalone #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere pantalone x reader #pantalone x reader #pantalone fatui #pantalone headcanons #yandere fatui harbingers #yandere fatui #the fauti harbingers #the fatui

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teabutmakeitazure · 1 year

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Power Versus Fate

>Yan! Pantalone x Fem! Reader

Word count: 0.8k words

༶ * ༶ * ༶ * ༶ * ༶ * ༶ * ༶ * ༶ * ༶ * ༶

“Do you have any idea of how much power I’m offering you?”

You sigh for the umpteenth time, dusting off any flour or icing sugar from your apron. “My answer in Inazuma is the same as it was in Snezhnaya.”

“I take it that you do not have an idea?”

“You should take it that I am not interested.”

He clicks his tongue, giving you a disapproving look. This is the fourth time this week that Pantalone has come to your new workplace to ‘persuade’ you. All his presence does is annoy you and bring about a feeling of hopelessness. After all, he is the reason why you fled Snezhnaya in the first place.

The lights in the bakery backroom give his face an eerie glow as he stares at you. His eyes, dark and gloomy, harbour an unidentifiable emotion swirling around like a storm. One minute passes, then two, and his lips part to speak.

“How about I remove your dear fiance from the picture?”

You perk up, eyes widening in horror when you realise the meaning behind his words. “You wouldn’t… no, please not him! He’s innocent.”

Despite him being seated and you standing, it still feels like Pantalone is pushing you to the ground with the pressure.

“My dear, you worked for me due to a contract that spared your little town. Though your homeland Natlan was not kind to you, it does not want you back. Do you perhaps assume that marrying an Inazuman man would allow you to settle here? Or have you forgotten what mercy Snezhnaya had shown you?”

“Sir Regrator, I assure you that I am very well aware of my position as well as of the fact that I am no longer allowed in Natlan. What I do not understand is why you have followed me all the way to Inazuma, even going as far as to harass me while I work just to offer me a higher position after my contract is done and dusted.”

Pantalone slightly tilts his head, mentally commending your audacity. However, he’s quick to stand and trap you between his body and the nearby wall as he watches that spark of malice he so loved shine in your eyes.

One gloved hand grabs your wrist and lifts it up to view the pathetic excuse of a ring on your finger. Before you know it, he’s slid it off and thrown it somewhere across the room to lay forgotten somewhere under the sacks of flour. He now eyes the ringless hand, already figuring out which gemstone would suit it better.

“I will clarify one thing for you, [Name].”

His voice, smooth and deep, echoes in your mind as you glare at him.

“I was never offering anything,” he states. “Although I used that word, I have no intention of following it. Your return to Snezhnaya is final. In case you are thinking of running away, I hope you remember what happened when you refused to go with me the first time I met you.”

The memory of getting handcuffed and pushed inside his office on the boat resurfaces. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

“I will have the details of our departure sent to you.” He continues, “Ah, and leave the details about your lovely betrothed to me. You needn’t see him or this humble bakery again.”

Shaking his grip off your hand, you push him away with the most malevolent face you could make. “You may dream as much as you wish. I am staying in Inazuma.”

“Are you sure about that? What power do you have to be able to declare such a thing?”

You remain quiet. You’re well aware there’s nothing at your disposal that could help you in this situation. Not even the authorities have any power to help you.

“Cat got your tongue, dear?”

Helpless, your back slides on the wall behind you as you fall to the ground. It feels so unbearably humiliating and unfair to receive this kind of treatment from him again. Before your contract of two years ended, you had worked as his personal secretary. Receiving all those borderline scandalous and filthy gifts from him on a regular basis and then having to deal with his questions about when you’re going to wear ‘that one piece’, you were fully prepared to leave Snezhnaya and never come back.

But fate has its own way of mocking you doesn’t it?

You’re sure the heavens are laughing when he steps closer to you on your knees. The action doesn’t elicit a response from you, not even when he chuckles in that infuriatingly beautiful voice of his.

“Good. You’ll have to get on your knees for me again some other time. Understood?”

#genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere pantalone #pantalone x reader #yandere pantalone x reader #yandere fatui #yandere regrator #yandere regrator x reader #regrator x reader

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innerunderrain · 2 years

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Munificence [Yan!Pantalone x Childhood!Fem.Reader]

Munificence: the quality or action of being lavishly generous; great generosity.

Warnings/tags: Yandere themes, disturbing thoughts, delusions, implied physical and emotional abuse, abuse of power, violence, slight hint of depression, greediness, dehumanization, feminine reader, my mind is gearing.

Word count: 1.3k

The Regrator had always remembered you as a person who was willing to assist others, despite your misfortune ever since you were a child.

You were both born into and raised in poverty. Nonetheless, your differences were rather noticeable. He was willing to break the law, mislead the public, and sometimes even endanger others to ensure his survival. You were the polar opposite, always giving in to everyone else' demands, always offering your share of food with him, even if it meant you were left to starve due to his greediness of taking what's more than needed.

The Regrator had always found you admirable, but utterly stupid with your generous demeanour. He admittedly took advantage of you on several occasions when he was younger, encouraging you to act as his stand-in whenever he committed a felony and coercing you into giving him the majority of your meals and blanket. You never complained, only grinned as you broke off a piece of bread and loaned it to him.

Generous to a fault, you are munificence when it comes to giving made you an easy target for conmen and scammers.

As you and Pantalone grew older, you assisted one another although it was more like he demanded you support him.

At the age of eighteen, he cultivated a strong desire to accumulate wealth, which kept growing as he began to establish connections and participate in various employment opportunities to gain a better understanding of the world. His demeanour and tone of voice became more clear and polite, in contrast to the demeaning way he used to address you, which you were rather glad for since he treated you more like an individual now then before.

Pantalone rushed into your shared room shortly after the opportunity from Snezhnaya presented itself, sporting a honest smile that you hadn't seen in a number of years. He waved a letter in your face, and you couldn't help but smile tenderly at how much he reminded you of an excited child who just opened his first present from his parents.

"I received an employment offer from Snezhnaya; they stated they're desperately searching for an individual to fill a position at the financial institution they're establishing."

He explained, rather excitedly as he handed you the contents of the letter, watching as your eyes carefully scan the writing. The two of you celebrated the news, packing all your belongings to board the ship the next day, saying goodbye to your beloved city of Liyue.

You didn't understand it until it was way too late, but this was the last time you'll ever feel genuine happiness.

Contrary to what you would have assumed, life in Snezhnaya wasn't as simple.

You had postulated that after receiving the title of 'Fatui Harbinger,' Pantalone would have returned you to Liyue since he knew it had always been your aspiration to open your own bakery for the people who were in an unfortunate situation, since you knew what it was like to go days without food.

Yet you find yourself sitting at the diner table, peering out into the garden that was populated with neatly cut shrubs and beautiful flowers that gave life to the resident. The dining hall is illuminated by sunlight filtering through the large windows. Everything within his domicile was magnificent, arched and hand-made with the finest details and made using the most luxurious materials.

"Are you not satisfied with your meal?"

He inquired, his voice deep and seamless, splitting you out of your trance. You turn to face him, the dark-haired man strolling towards you, a large robe draped over his broad shoulders, making him appear larger, more intimidating.

"...I am. I was simply thinking."

You responded, watching Pantalone seated himself in front of you, a cup of tea in his hand, humming in delight.

"Oh? Would you care to inform me what you're so enraptured in?"

"I was merely thinking of the past."

You replied cautiously, inspecting the man's handsome face for any sign of unpleasantness or anger, remembering how much he loathed discussing of the past.

"The past? Your pretty little head seems to enjoy partaking in pointless developments. Why think about the past?"

Pantalone's smile never dimmed, regardless of the fact that you knew he was most likely hiding his sentiments behind that businessman smile.

"It's filled with nothing but unpleasantries."

Unpleasantries? While the past was filled with nothing but agonising poverty, with raindrops dripping onto your cheeks while you slept at night, you prefer to be allowed to live freely than an animal constrained by his own fortunes.

"Even so, I seem to like the past more than the current time."

You respond with another sip of tea, the fruitiness of the warm liquid filling your senses. Pantalone said nothing for a while, but you could almost feel his anger swelling with each tick of the clock.

"You know, my dear."

Finally, he remarked, pausing briefly before continuing. You dropped your cup of tea as his gloved fingers lunged out to seize your face, squeezing your cheeks between his fingertips. Warm liquid streams onto your silk dress, fragile ceramic cups shattering onto the marbled floor, generating a loud shriek.

"Instead of dwelling on the past, you should embrace the moment and learn to appreciate its riches."

With your chest pressed against the table and Pantalone's face looming over yours, you groaned in pain as you felt the way his diamond rings pinched into the delicate area of your flesh, pulling you close to him.

"You're such a generous little girl, and yet you can't seem to spare any benevolence for someone who's willing to soak you with wealth and power."

He cooed as you struggled to get his hand off your face, his smile broadening into a vicious grin.

"Consider it as some form of compensation for previously sharing your food with me. But perhaps now is my chance to act as the charitable one."

While his greed for your food and basic necessities gradually lessened, his greed grew and diversified in a new way. This time, he was only focused on you. He desired your attention, your body, and even your mind. The Regrator intended to be the only person in the world to experience your suffering, to witness your cries of agony, and to showcase your joyous moments.

Relief washed over you as you noticed the man's grip loosen around your face, his thumb now circling the skin under your eyes.

"Yes, I'll put everything you said today behind me because I'm a forgiving person," he murmured, pausing before resting his forehead against yours and gazing into your eyes, as if he was trying to drown you with the darkness of his pupils.

"I promise to be less gracious the next time, so do understand that you will be held accountable for your promises."

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin impact #yandere #pantalone #yandere genshin imagines #genshin imagines #genshin pantalone #regrator #fatui harbingers #fatui x reader #the regrator #yandere x reader

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redstripstrawberry · 2 years

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Mother of Pearl | Yandere Pantalone x Reader

Warning: Yandere themes. Drugging, demeaning language, and mentions of long-term stalking. Thank you.

Summary: Being the only child of successful business owners in Liyue meant a life of luxury. As such, you’ve developed quite a sharp eye for the top-class of materials, so much so that you pride yourself on it. It wasn’t until a meeting with the most arrogant man you’ve ever met that you felt you had to prove your skill.

An evening in Liyue Harbor is an evening like no other. The air is crisp and cold since the breeze flows from the ocean and swims through the streets of Liyue. The gleams of the lanterns scattered about are like stars that you can just reach out and touch. Truly a sight like no other.

But more spectacular than the scenery of Liyue Harbor at night is the commotion that goes on after when the golden glow of the sun turns into the quiet gleam of the moon. As expected of the city’s lesser-known title: “Teyvat’s Capital of Commerce,” the residents are bustling even when the fireflies blink in the darkness. You are usually more interested in the night market life than anything Liyue Harbor’s scenery had to offer.

Hailing from Liyue Harbor meant that you’re very involved in the market, even more so than the average person since your parents are running a very successful clothing business. The night market in Liyue Harbor is a special case for you, since you’re a buyer— someone who keeps track and purchases essential materials for a business.

Though tonight’s wander has a more important purpose than the usual browsing. You’re on the lookout for some Sango Pearls. Only the best quaility should be picked for your mother’s birthday present. As the only child of the most famous designers in Liyue Harbor, who, other than you, would know instantly about the quality of items from a mere look? You can’t think of any other name.

So comes the evening as you set out to begin your personal quest. From your parents’ shop descending down the stairs on top of Xinyue Kiosk, you hear the loud and crowded noise of the bustling market. Across from the stairs is Mingxing Jewelry, a familiar shop where you usually do business.

You’ve asked Xingxi to bring out the pearls for you to take a look. She lets you go at it alone since you’re always taking your time. Though having a sharp eye makes things easier, there’s multiple discussions to be had with yourself when picking exquisite items.

The sea’s gems came in a velvet box—pure white—to showcase the multitudes of colors from the pearls. Amongst the red, pink, and purple pearls displayed, a lustrous golden pearl with a lavender sheen stood out to you the most. Under the dark sky, the light that shines from the shop’s lanterns reflects against the pearl like a mirror. Unlike the others, the gem is definitely clear and smooth all around. You hold the pearl high, seeing the light reveals its purple glow at the edges which mixes into the golden base color. Such a breathtaking pearl!

“That one isn’t a good pick.” A voice says from behind you. You turn your head and lock eyes with a dark-haired gentleman wearing a smile. The lenses of his glasses that frame his face shine with the lanterns, making him seem pompous.

You feel a pinch the moment he abruptly brought up his opinion. “And why do you think so?” you reply, surprised.

“The pearl’s reflection is purple. Sango Pearls of the best quality has a pink or reddish sheen to it, indicating the connection Orobashi, Watatsumi’s god. It’s a well-known fact with the people of Watatsumi Island,” the man answers you, informing you with an arrogant attitude.

“Please,” you scoff off his answer, “the ‘fact’ you’re talking about is just folk’s tale. It has no meaning to the quality of the pearl itself. The pearl’s color is connected to the color inside of the shell, fun ‘fact.’ Clearly, Watatsumi Island's purple calms are the ones that make the Sango Pearl its gloss: purple.”

“Pardon me, but clearly you’ve never seen a class AAA Sango Pearl to compare it to.”

The man chuckles, clearly having fun. You can’t believe what is happening right now. It’s one thing to disagree with another about precious items but to blatantly insult you in your face? You can’t help but spit the tone right back.

“... You’re not someone usually well-liked, aren’t you? Considering how forceful you were,” you ask him with an attitude, eyes narrowing in annoyance.

“My help is usually sought out from numerous people. My opinion has great value, honestly,” the man replies with the same smile. Something about his smile makes you irritated.

“Ah, you don’t really look like it,” you say, switching your tone to a relaxed statement. You bring your eyes to focus on the pearl once again, but you can feel his smile flicker. Archons, does he irk you. “Well, thanks for your —unwelcome— input, but I find this pearl to match what I’m looking for.”

“ I’d agree with you, that pearl does match your tastes much better anyway.”

Clearly, there wasn’t anything wrong with what he said, but everything that comes out of his mouth seems so… underhanded. That tone especially, it feels wrong.

“But!” the man fumbles around in his jacket with his hands, “to apologize for my —unwelcome— input, here’s a gift for you.”

The man called over Xingxi and threw a heavy pouch of Mora that hit the counter with a hard ‘clunk.’

“Though if you really want to seek out my opinion, come by the Northland Bank and ask for ‘Pantalone.’ I’ll show you some quality pearls. That is, if you really think you’re right.”

The gall of the man! You would’ve rejected the offer immediately out of spite if it wasn’t for that second sentence. But your pride as a child of the top designers in Liyue Harbor is in control. Your eyes are honed precisely for helping out the family business. This isn’t about a damn pearl, it was about your competence as a buyer of supplies!

“I’d doubt that you can procure any of these ‘quality’ pearls you speak of, but I’ll come. Only to see how your preferences match up to mine.”

“I’ll look forward to it, [ ].”

You can’t with that damn smile.

• ° • ° • ° •

“Which is why the nacre of the pearl should also count as a separate category into determining its grade,” Pantalone concludes.

“Yes, you’ve went on and on how judging the iridescence of the pearl isn’t the same as judging its color..” you roll your eyes, “but that doesn’t explain anything about why you would grade desert fox fur as the least desirable fur. You’re absolutely wrong, by the way.”

“Of course you wouldn’t understand it based on what you know, [ ]. But just like how people mistake judging a pearl’s nacre and color together, it’s the same with judging color and the pattern of a fur.”

It’s funny how a simple chat about a pearl gradings turned into a deep and interesting conversation about fox furs. The high-class people around your age aren’t very fond of discussing the bits and pieces of precious things, just only that they have them. It’s a unexpectedly fulfilling discussion, even though Pantalone is undeniably an ass about it.

“We should stop here since it’s getting late,” you start off, leaning against the railing. The two of you are on the bridge right out front of the bank, after you two got into a heated discussion inside that needed to be had outside. The guard hurried off after Pantalone gave him a look you didn’t get to see.

“... I see.” Pantalone has that unreadable smile on his face. “However, why don’t you head inside for some tea to warm up? To prepare you on the way back home.”

“I think we’ll end up getting to a duel about tea leaves, and if so, I’ll leave at sunrise.” you chuckle. “Thanks, but no thanks, sir Pantalone.”

“Please, heated discussions will not commence whatsoever. Think of it as an offering for making a new bond… with me.”

You’re surprised. A new friendship wasn’t something you thought you were going to make today, much less an asshole for a friend, but here you are. You beam at him.

“Well then, sure.”

• ° • ° • ° •

The room is stuffy. You come to, opening your eyes as try to grasp your surroundings. What happened? Didn’t you just had tea with Pantalone a moment ago?

“You’re awake? Good, because I was starting to get bored talking to your unconscious self.”

Pantalone reveals himself, walking into the light which hangs above you. The lenses of his glasses shine even brighter, illuminating his eyes. Pantalone is wearing his familiar close-eye smile. But now he’s horrifying that way.

“Honestly, I didn’t expect our chemistry to be so well-matched considering that I only watched you from afar, but it went so well. Our conversations, that is. I’m so glad we started off so.. thrilling.” Pantalone starts, as he circles around you. You, whose hands are tied behind your back and your feet secured at the chair’s front legs, watch him in terror or in rage; there’s so much emotion within that you don’t have enough time to settle on which. “It’s funny, you know, how similar you are to me when I was a bit younger. Arrogant, yet so naive. It’s no wonder I felt an instant connection with you.”

Pantalone circles back to the front, facing you. He leans in closer to you, grabbing the sides of your seat, shifting his weight to his hands. Pantalone's thumbs are barely touching your thigh. Your voice is muffled from the cloth wedged between your jaws. All you could do is squirm intensely from refusal. Panic settles in.

“For someone who acts so high-class and knowledgeable, you can’t even comprehend real wealth. Not like the pocket change your parents make yearly, not what I can show you.” Pantalone chuckles, his teeth showing through his smile. “Adorable and naive. There’s just something about you, [ ]. You show how much of an idiot you are with your pride and knowledge, but yet stir me all the same.”

Pantalone’s face isn’t paired with the familiar yet irritating closed-eye smile. No, the open grin with his upturned eyes is instead the most frightening expression you’ve ever seen a human make. You can see the madness in him and it’s terrifying.

“My precious pearl,” Pantalone leans in even closer, his voice whispering into your ear, “You’re too fascinating to let go.”

#writing-strip #im not dead i swear #His characterization is not the best #hard man to write about #totally hard for him tho wink wink #critque is welcome #might rewrite idk #yandere pantalone #pantalone #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #the regrator #yandere pantalone x reader #pantalone x reader

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theinnerunderrain · 2 years

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Imagine Pantalone as your banker.

Warnings: Yandere themes, dubcon, financial manipulation, implied blackmailing, mature themes, fingering, mentions of cockwarming, naive reader, minors do not interact.

Since I'll be honest, I don't have a great deal about bankers, here is a standard description of their responsibilities.

Bank personnel that interact with customers regularly are known as bankers or banking consultants. Through their in-depth understanding of the services and products that their organisation provides, they forge lasting relationships with customers. Their primary responsibilities include helping clients with activities including establishing savings and checking accounts, giving them loans, and transferring funds.

Pantalone is an exceptional banker, which should not be unreasonable given his eloquence and ability to communicate with a wide range of clients. So it comes as no surprise that your father would refer you to Pantalone, applauding him for being such a brilliant banker and even humorously proposing that, given how similar in age the two of you were, perhaps he might be a suitable candidate for marriage.

Your father was right when he noted that Pantalone was such a skilled orator, and your first session with him went surprisingly seamlessly. But he failed to mention that the banker would be such an attractive man with glasses that complemented his features and black, wavy hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. Considering Pantalone's experience in his profession, it's safe to conclude that you were astonished when you first saw him. You had anticipated Pantalone to be a relatively middle-aged man, not someone with such refined beauty. Your rather adorable little face contorted into a look of disbelief as you tried to wipe away the persistent flush across your cheeks, which he thought to be almost humorous.

Such an adorable little thing.

Perhaps he was successful in persuading your father to introduce him to you after all?

Pantalone is likely to deliberately maneuver your financial standing until it becomes quite precarious, given to his capacity as your personal banker. When it comes to providing banking services to you, he'll offer several rather terrible suggestions, fully aware that the route he was advising you to take wasn't one that was compatible with your financial capacity. But since you trusted him and it wasn't your area of expertise, you had no option but to follow his recommendations. Why shouldn't you, when your father trusted him?

Now that you're struggling to pay the outrageous fees you're obligated to pay even though you have no idea what they're for, it's obvious that you shouldn't have trusted him. At the end, you end up with a credit debt, a rather large one at that. Even your father somehow accumulated a large sum of debt, leading the both of you to suffer a great loss. You're obviously going to be sued for being in such a large amount of credit debt, your debt being approximately over thousands of dollars after the accumulation over the few months.

What are you gonna do now?

Well.

You would come crying to Pantalone, begging for him to help you, unaware that he was the sole reason for tempering with yours and your father's bank accounts.

But you wouldn't know that, would you now?

"Come here, darling. Tell me what's wrong."

It wasn't challenging for someone like him to exploit you considering that you are clearly in such a precarious position, gathering you into his arms while you bawl into his chest, soaking the fabric of his shirt with your warm tears. As you sit on his lap, he would delicately comb his fingers through your hair in an effort to gently soothe you, whispering nothing but sweet words into your ears.

Your innocence integrates into lust, and you find yourself pressed against his desk with his long fingers penetrating in and out of you as tears channel down your cheeks and delicious cries depart your mouth with each thrust. Perhaps you were too distraught to properly understand your predicament, too virtuous to genuinely comprehend the truth of his acts, and too overwhelmed with anguish and lust to care.

"I mean, look at you—you seem to be feeling so much better already. Do my fingers feel that good?"

His hushed chuckling could be made out through your muddled consciousness, merging in with the damp noises of your wet hole quelching against his fingers. Look at you—you're completely and utterly at his mercy. Look at just how completely pathetic you are under him. You were nothing more than a privileged yet adorable girl who just couldn't manage without his or your father's guidance. Given how old your father is, Pantalone doubts whether he'll be capable of providing for you continuously. And since you are a pampered girl with no place in this world, who else would be a wiser alternative for you than him?

"There, there. You're doing such a good job."

His pace on your battered cunt would quicken, He complies, curling his fingers inside you and sustaining a consistent rhythm while casting a wide smile over his face. His fingers' tips penetrate the deepest parts of you—regions that your short fingers could never reach. After a few more strokes, you come undone against his desk. Your thighs twitched beneath his arm, both of your eyes rolled into the back of your head, and every word that escaped out of his mouth distorted into a deafening ring that echoed into the back of your mind.

He observes you as you struggle to breathe, your chest rising and falling and eyes drifting aimlessly up into the ceiling, plainly too drunk on lust to comprehend anything apart from the pleasure you were experiencing. He didn't proceed as you had expected, instead pulling back and grinning at your bewildered appearance.

Pantalone merely accompanied you in getting dressed before guiding you outside and giving you a quick kiss on the lips. He then instructed you to meet him back at his office so that you could discuss your arrangement in more detail, leaving you astonished at his door. After a few days, you find yourself standing in front of his office again, attempting to smooth out the creases within your dress before tentatively raising your hand to knock on the door. Pantalone welcomed you into his office and offered you some tea that was far too sweet for your liking. The tea smelled delicious, somewhat floral, and it left you feeling a little nauseous, but perhaps it was simply because you'd been under a lot of stress recently?

Right?

His offer to assist you was contingent on you fulfilling a few requirements, though. These arrangements were somewhat peculiar, if you could call them that, as they were very detailed and involved clauses that a banker shouldn't normally compel you to accept. Yet, you found yourself in his office after business hours with his hands on your head as he drew you close and pressed his lips against yours, grinning into the kiss whenever you accidentally let out a moan.

"Are you really so eager to see me? Even after barely touching you, you're already drenched."

Other times, he would rail you against his desk while embarking on some sort of conspiratorial tirade. Topics that were beyond your comprehension given his level of closeness with you and the way his fingers would clamp securely around your waist, treating you almost like a flesh light that he could fuck and disposed of anytime. The way he would grin every time you became overstimulated—laughing as your moans transformed into shrill squeals with each drag of his cock—may have been a cover for his possible sadistic antics.

"I detest the money-only mindset of those avaricious scum; I detest the avarice in their eyes. They were born with everything in their hands, yet they are miserable bastards who are always craving more. Ah darling, I apologise for babbling."

Your daily session with him soon turned into a commitment from him to assist you and your father, who would then tell you not to be concerned about having your pretty head curled around a big wad of cash, since the situation would soon be resolved on its own. Then he would proceed to torment you while caressing and fondling your flesh, sometimes with you leaning up against his desk or just resting on his lap. Other times, he would simply cockwarm you, holding you firmly in place on his lap while telling you to remain still and fixating his eyes on the large number of paperwork in front of him, leaving you to impale by the large length of his cock.

Naturally, those sessions never came to a peaceful conclusion, and in less than a half-hour, he would be thrusting into you with your face and breast pressed up against the table.

"It's your responsibility for not keeping quiet, so stop staring at me like that."

His fingers encased all around the back of your neck, whereas his other hands reached past your hips to stroke your clit, whispering words that would send butterflies down your stomach.

Your appointments with him proceeded for a couple more months, and your credit debt crisis did resolve itself; it was reportedly the result of a banking system error. You were obviously overjoyed, sprinting into Pantalone's office first thing in the morning and leaping into his lap, oblivious to the perpetrator of your dilemma. You would express your gratitude to him a thousand times over and enquire as to how you could ever repay him, completely ignoring the way his grin widened at your words.

"You don't have to give me anything in return, my love; it's all right. I won't need anything more than for you to come back occasionally to be content."

He might have been using a long-term strategy to obtain you, but it will be worthwhile in the end. Just be prepared to see some fairly promiscuous photographs floating around the internet if you ignore his requirements. Conversely, don't be shocked if the bank suddenly takes ownership of your father's home or worse, your house.

If you would only pay attention to him, you could prevent all of this. You'll be alright as long as you continue to act morally upright, just be the sweet girl you have always been.

Money is ultimately the engine that drives global order. When the time comes, that heart will stop beating only at our command.

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yandere-sins · 2 years

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Yandere!Pantalone HCs ♥

I really tried to hold back because I don’t like the feeling of assuming a character’s personality without there canonly being one. But this man is living in my head rent-free (that greedy bastard!!) and won’t leave my thoughts alone! Please send help ;;

Obligatory Lemon warning!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

♡ The only time Pantalone puts his hair up and way out of his face is for punishment time. He wants to see every precious tear rolling down your face, every mark, scratch, and drop of blood he caused on your body, and not even his hair should hinder him. That’s why after he got you, he bought tons of hair ties to put into his drawers and leaving them lying around as a warning. The look he gives you—smirking knowingly with a violent gleam in his eyes—as he combs his fingers through his hair, pulling them up, makes you instantly fear for your life. In return, you’re the only (living) person that ever saw his face completely revealed. It’s his way of ensuring his appearance is burned into your very being, both in your dreams and nightmares, so you may never forget him as long as you live. No matter where you go and who you are with, even if it’s not Pantalone, he’ll be on your mind. He owns you no matter where he is.

♡ Pantalone has a strike system for you two in public (think Dom/Sub play) and strict rules for you to follow. There’s no talking, walking off, or looking other people in the eyes. If you want to look at something, you have to ask him nicely to walk over there with you, arm in arm, hoping he’s in a good mood. You are not to interrupt him ever except if he addresses you directly, so when there’s business, then tough luck. But if he catches you staring at a store longingly, there’s a chance he goes there to reward you later. Something for you, and then on the Black Market to get something for... him (also you). If your hand so much but lifts a finger off his arm, he’ll take you home immediately; there are no excuses. But otherwise, if you upset him, he’ll let you know, perching his glasses up higher on his nose, first from the right side (first strike), then the left (second strike), and once he is fed up, he’ll push them up in the middle and excuse you two, gripping your hand so tight as he pulls you ‘home’ (wherever that is at the moment) that you fear it might fall off from blood loss.

♡ He loves, loves, loves feeling your weight on top of him. Ever since he claimed you as his, your buttocks have not met the soft cushions of a chair or couch. While doing business, he has you stand by his side, not allowing you to squirm or fumble, just stand and stare at the floor or hold papers he gives you. But as soon as things turn less professional, Pantalone pulls you on his lap, gripping your thighs tightly and forcing you to lean on him. The longer the evening, the darker the red wine, the firmer his grip on you, until he opens his legs, slipping you on top of just one thigh and whisper to you to lift your feet from the ground. So while his hands travel down your back as he listens to the drunken businessman around you, he forces you to grind on his thigh. To escape the boredom of these formalities, he likes bopping his leg and watching you hold back any sounds stuck in your throat as you hold on to him by gripping his expensive clothes. If you tear them, you’ll pay for it. That’s the deal. So he doesn’t mind you getting rough with his new favorite shirt. Pantalone also really likes watching you at night. You on top of him, moving and working your pretty little body off for him, like a good pet. Definitely his favorite position by far.

♡ As greedy as he is, you will never fear poverty by his side. Well, as long as you behave, that is. The world is more or less open for you if you stay in his favor and listen to his instructions. Your shoes are soft, your clothes don’t itch, food is flavorful and plenty. Pantalone brings home gifts, toys and jewels, new inventions, and... less savory things for you to try. He even rents out more rooms, so there is plenty of space to put your stuff in, alongside maids to clean up. But where he spends money on you, you sometimes wonder why he isn’t living in more luxury, not yet understanding that you are his greatest possession that he’s preserving with his wealth. And especially the things he gives you that you don’t appreciate as much (little to no coverage clothes, unique toys and inventions, silk blindfolds, and many, many more) are what he enjoys buying the most.

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glimmeringtwilight · 2 years

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Gilded Cage

Hello hello! The Pantalone/Reader piece, as promised. Not really edited because I'm too excited to post this one, and posting without proofreading seems to be a trend on this blog anyway fghhfjsdgehegr Part two can be found here.

Summary: Pantalone saves you from Dottore's clutches, but really you're just moving from one cage into another- and a gilded cage is a cage all the same.

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

Word Count: 1.2k

CW: Implied/referenced drugging(mild), kidnapping/captivity, body horror(brief), mild gore, mild dehumanization.

This isn’t the freedom you’d envisioned. It isn’t really freedom at all, actually, but looking back, Pantalone never promised you freedom.

Dottore was like a riptide: calm waters luring you in before dragging you out to sea. You were drowning. You were desperate. Pantalone offered you a lifeline.

“I can protect you from him, you know.”

It was casual, an offer thrown in passing, spoken just low enough so your captor standing on the other side of the room wouldn’t hear. Gloved fingers clasped your shoulder, breath fanning over the nape of your neck. You could hear the smile in his voice. “I can save you.”

No, he never did mention freeing you, did he?

But you were desperate, wanting to get away from the monster that made your shadow its home, from the constant prick of needles, the easy glide of scalpels across skin, the pervasive stench of bleach and copper.

Pantalone helped secret you away from the doctor, masked servants guiding you into the snow under the cover of night, leading you from one cage into another.

And what a gilded cage it was. Personally tailored outfits, lavish mansions, fine silks and dainty jewelry… opulence so sickly-sweet it made your teeth ache. A cage all the same.

Your days are spent in freezing halls, kept atop the highest shelf like a prized doll; in the spotlight but always beyond reach.

Pantalone treats you like a prized possession. It's impersonal and invasive at the same time. Every outfit you wear is handpicked by him, every meal prepared by chefs you never see; foods you could never afford and would never order regardless.

He lives in exorbitance, too. Tables set for ten, seating only you and him on opposite ends, in a cold and empty dining hall. Sometimes you don't get that luxury, either, and he'll have you sit in his lap and let him feed you. Usually when he doesn't feel you're eating enough, or you're not eating what he wants you to eat from the dizzying selection of food placed on the table.

Your outfits are much of the same: worn once and then never seen again. All of them tailored to fit you perfectly but undoubtedly still belonging to him, so that you can't escape his reach, whether he's in the room with you or not.

He’s not like Dottore. He doesn’t sedate you, lay you down on a cold exam table and carve you open. He doesn’t have servants (or in Dottore’s case, often it was his clones) follow you like a shadow, and he certainly doesn’t do it himself.

But he doesn’t need to. You don’t need the constant reminder of his presence in the breath fanning down your neck when the clothes you wear compliment his own, when the perfume you wear smells like him, when the constant weight of whatever hangs around your neck– be it a literal collar or a dazzling, lavish choker– reminds you of him.

And when you're a little too unwilling, a little too ungrateful, Pantalone threatens to send you back. Back to Dottore, to constant experiments, to the poking and prodding and constant prying.

It's better here. Not much, not significantly, but the cold, dispassionate halls, the empty stares, the frigid hands that encircle your waist… It's better, you tell yourself, than him.

Dottore comes looking for you, sometimes. A servant might come barging into Pantalone’s office, not sparing you a glance, and you’ll be gently ushered to hide under the desk. Like now.

“You have a penchant for taking things that don’t belong to you.”

“Oh? Is this about your misplaced pet? Terribly sorry, dear doctor, but I don’t-”

“Where are they?” You can practically see the wide-eyed murder in Dottore’s eyes, even when your only view is the wood grain of the desk and Pantalone’s crossed legs. You hear Dottore say your name, like one would call a pet. Your blood turns to ice.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t. He can’t. You repeat this to yourself like a mantra, trying to stave off the frost crawling through your veins, a heavy pit of dread pooling in your gut.

You remember the first nights you spent here, head fuzzy and painkillers buzzing through your system as servants dug out the trackers Dottore had placed in you and destroyed them in the hearth next to where you sleep.

…They didn’t miss one, did they? They couldn’t have. Dottore would have dragged you back kicking and screaming by now if they did-

“I’m afraid I don’t know, doctor.” Pantalone’s bemused lilt cuts through your spiraling thoughts.

“I know you have them.”

“Do you?” The space under the desk darkens as Pantalone leans forward, caging you in further under the desk. “Pray tell, what proof do you have?”

When Dottore doesn’t respond for a tense beat, Pantalone continues, voice dripping saccharine poison, “You don’t have any, do you?” He leans back once more, light filtering into the cramped space once more, and you chance a peek up at him. His smile is condescending, but more strained than the ones he gives you, “Then, until you do… They aren’t here.”

There’s a long stretch of silence that has you sweating despite the cold. You can hear Pantalone drumming his fingers slowly against the desk, the large grandfather clock ticking in the corner, the storm howling outside…

It drags on for so long that the next time Dottore speaks, you startle. “Very well,” His voice is ice, colder than you’ve ever heard it, rivaling the uninhabitable wasteland beyond the tall, arching windows, “Keep them, then. While you can.”

You hear clack of stiff boots against cold tile, and then he’s gone.

Pantalone waits for several minutes more before scooting away from the desk, and you take your cue to crawl into his lap as he beckons you up from the ground. You’re shivering, but admittedly less so from the cold than from the icy terror slowly pulling its claws from your skin.

He doesn’t seem to care, though, just tucking you against his side as he always does whenever you complain about the cold while sat on his lap, his warmth as hollow of a comfort as everything else he does for you.

But you prefer the cold. It’s easier to weather than the white-hot pain, fire lapping at your nerves, the constant synthetic warmth of clones or of Dottore himself.

Pantalone wants to hollow you out so you’re just as empty as he is, desensitizing you to greed and avarice, taking everything you begrudgingly give and then taking more, more, more. Until there’s nothing left to take. Until you’re just as hollow as a porcelain doll, pristine and lifeless, sat in a glass cage; to be admired but never touched. Not by anyone but him, that is.

Dottore wants to hollow you out to crawl inside you. He’d said as much himself, once, elbow-deep in your abdomen. The sight of your blood staining his shirt, of the bloodied tools, the red gleam of his eye– all seared into memory. You may have been numbed (thankfully), but you could still feel it: the dull sensation of pressure, of heat, of his hand pressing something (one of the trackers, you think), past your ribs.

So you don’t resist when Pantalone grabs you by the jaw and guides you to face him. You close your eyes when cool lips press against your own, trying hard to block out the resurfacing memories of sterile rooms and sharp-toothed smiles.

This is better, you tell yourself, and you try just as hard to believe it.

#yandere #pantalone #pantalone/reader #regrator #regrator/reader #yandere pantalone #yandere regrator #yandere pantalone/reader #genshin #genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #my writing #dead dove do not eat #pantalone x reader #regrator x reader #cw: gore #cw: dehumanization #cw: body horror

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tragedyofdevotion · 2 years

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The fair lady

The fair lady has passed away. That information reached in the ears of even someone like you who was tucked away in this mansion for many years. You felt heartbroken when you first overheard the news from the maids. Rosalyne was a mesmerizing lady just as her code name implies. And surprisingly, she has was very kind and gentle with you in the rare times that you have met her. Even though you have never leave a foot out of this mansion after your marriage, you have known the stories from all around Teyvat due to the letters she sent without your husband knowing. You never saw her side where people fear and shake in terror. The Rose you knew was one without thorns, sweet and kind and loving. And your husband once said that she probably turns back to the Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter before she faced the tragedy. However, you have no idea why this change occurred. You were planning to ask her if there is a chance but now… you will never know the answer. When you are drowning in sorrow for your friend’s sudden departure, you heard someone knocked the door. So, you quickly wiped away your tears and calmed yourself down. You cannot let anyone, especially the maids, know you shed tears for La Signora because they will no doubt report it back to your husband. “The lord is coming back. I was told to inform you.”

“Huh? Why so soon? Normally he is always so busy at the bank until it was midnight. It is only noon, isn’t it?”

“Haven’t you heard the announcement, my lady?”

“What announcement?”

The maid looked exasperated for a second before changing her face into neutral look again.

“Every work in Snezhnaya is to be stopped for half a day in honor of the harbinger, La Signora.

Well then. If you will excuse me.”

She left as abruptly as she came.

It is clear to see that the maids and the butlers in this mansion does not favor you. In their eyes, you were someone who married the lord only because of money and still had the audacity to be ungrateful to him. Well, it is true that your parents did not think twice about selling you out to the richest man in Snezhnaya when their company went bankrupt. However, in the back of your mind, you know that even that bankruptcy was orchestrated by your now husband.

In your defense, you tried your best for things to not turn out this way.

You warned your parents not to trust the smiling man too much. You advised them not to invest too much in that project. You ventilated them to live contentedly by opening a bakery or something even after you lost all of your wealth. However, your words held no power over them as your family is as prideful as they are shortsighted.

On the other hand, it can be said that your husband value your opinion and view on various issues. Except for your wish for freedom that is. Otherwise, there is no way he would confide you about the deepest secrets Teyvat has in hold. Maybe that is why he was interested in you in the first place. You are kind but not naïve. Being born in the higher society, you know how wicked a human being can be and you can hold your ground against their scheme, sometimes going as far as to revenge them. But you still had your inner child and your pure eyes that glitter with delight at everyday things. It was irony in a sense that you held power in decision that can change the country and even the whole Teyvat yet cannot say a word in the decision of your own life.

“What have you been thinking so deeply that you did not notice your husband coming back, darling? I thought I made sure you were informed.” He said, smiling the same charming and creepy smile that he always adorned.

“I am not sure. Maybe I am thinking about running away from you.” You answered pointedly.

“Well then, I guess you are doing well. I thought you would be more devastated considering your girlfriend died recently.”

“What do you mean my girlfriend? Wait? You knew about the letters?!”

“Of course, I did. I can’t manage the northern bank if I am an ignorant man who doesn’t even know what is going on in his own house. I just pretended not to know because the content of your letters were innocent enough. Also, unlike your ex-boyfriend’s case, I wasn’t able to move carelessly considering she is a fellow harbinger. So, I am really grateful that the Raiden did the job for me.”

“You heartless ***!!! She was your comrade!”

“Weren’t you taught that a respectable lady shouldn’t say such vile words? And who is the heartless one? Are you sure you don’t notice what she had done in Inazuma?”

“Whatever she did, she did it for our country. She did it in the name of Tsaritsa. Moreover, whatever she did, she did not imprison a girl and treat her as her prized doll. Maybe you shouldn’t do vile things if you don’t want vile words to come out of my mouth.”

“Are you sure you should be saying things like that?” He slammed you against the wall and put his hands around your frame, effectively caging you between his body and the wall. “Your red knight, the only one who had a chance of saving you from the big bad monster is off dead, you know? Do I also need to remind you that it was your own parents who sold you to this devil. No matter how heartless they are, I am sure you wouldn’t want them to die of hunger in the cold nights of Snezhnaya mountains.”

Yes. He is right. All the luxury your parents are living in now is his. You hate to admit it but he actually bought you off so you are rightfully his, just like his various treasures. You were so shaken by your one true friend’s death that you let it slip off your mind.

“No. I am sorry, Pantalone-sama. Please forgive me.” It took every ounce of your muscles to vocalize those words.

“I understand, my dear. You were just so shocked by Signora’s death, right? I will forgive you THIS TIME. In exchange you have to promise me – no more pen pals, ok? I can’t be sure I will be as patient the next time.” He threatened, using the tone a teacher soothing an elementary kid and you hated it. But what you hated more was his smile, that damn smile that is never leaving his face. You wished you could ripe it off.

But you said what is the polar opposite of your mind.

“Thank you for your benevolence, Pantalone-sama.”

A drop of tear escaped your eye and you only noticed it when it wet your cheeks.

You didn’t have time to figure out whether it is for your friend or for yourself as the Regrator in front of you quickly wiped it away.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere regrator #yandere patalone #yandere pantalone x reader #yandere regrator x reader #signora x reader #yandere patalone x y/n #yandere pantalone x you #yandere harbinger #pantalone x reader #pantalone x you #regrator x reader #regrator x you #I wrote

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mrlidocaine · 1 year

Note

I really like the pantolone x hybrid au! Reader :] I kinda want more of it, so prettyyyy pleaseeeee write some more :]

Thank you! I did my best, please enjoy 🫡 . I’m sorry it’s so short I can pull more together later if you lovelies want, I’m just swamped with schoolwork rn

Yan! Pantalone x Snow leopard hybrid! Reader

TW: kidnapping (petnapping?), drugging, forced domestication, oh also Dottores in here and that’s it’s own trigger warning. Lemme know if there r more

It was cold. But you didn't care, happily chasing your meal through the snow. The small white mouse was hard to see, but you could hear it, and you weren't going to lose it. Your fluffy white ears keened towards the little scurrying noises as you simply failed to miss the sound of a campfire crackling, the steps of large men moving around; too excited about the mouse, your mouth watering as you chased the first living thing you'd seen in ages. Only as the mouse was crushed under a well aimed boot did you screech and tumble to a halt, slamming into sturdy and well made fabric. You sat there dazed, long spotted tail over your shoulder as your claws dug into the ground.

"What on earth?" A clicking was heard behind you and you turned your cat like eyes to the new noise, looking into a masked face. It had a long shiny thing pointed at you, frozen metal pressing against your head. You bared your sharp teeth and sprang up, only to be whacked across the head now. Your vision danced, colourful spots flooding your eyesight. you heard muffled conversation, but were unable to actually know what any of it meant

"That's a snow leopard hybrid yeah? Those rare or anything?"

"You're asking if its rare? You dumb fuck that's worth-!"

"Who's even gonna buy it? Sure its expensive as hell but it's wild, nobody really wants a wild one."

“Doesn’t matter, some sicko will take it. If there’s no luck on the market, the Doctor would gladly snatch her up.”

You could only listen, trying to comprehend any of it when the snow beside you crunched. A tall, imposing man with dark hair and glasses stood there looking down at you with a smile. You bared your teeth, crouching to lunge at any of the humans that dared to take another step near you.

“I’ll take her, it would be a waste to give her to the Doctor. Isn’t she a pretty thing? She’d be prettier put on display though, prettier if she was taken care of.” That was it, your world going dark after a blunt force hit the back of your head.

When you woke up, you were being dragged into a very white room. It wasn’t much different than the white of the snow, but the smell of chemicals hurt your nose, causing you to whine as you looked around in your disoriented state. Some muffled words were heard as a masked figure with blue hair appeared in your vision, pointing at you and then laughing at words spoken by another. You swiped with your claw at the person, but they simply smiled with their own sharp teeth and waved their finger at you. You faded back out after a small prick in your neck.

#x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x reader #yandere pantalone #yandere regrator

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babylonia-after-hours · 2 years

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Winner Takes All, Part 1 [Yandere Regrator x thief darling x Yandere Yelan]

Disclaimer I have no idea how long this will be, but I had a crazy idea involving Pantalone and Yelan and a little thief for a darling.

(I am so sorry my readers have so much lore lmao)

@ddarker-dreams, @yandere-romanticaa, I hope you don't mind my tagging you two

The night’s smoke still burned your lungs as you were thrown to the floor of a new room. Wooden, nice quality by the feel of it, even as it collided violently with the side of your face. The edge of a carpet pressed into your cheek. Your arms and legs had been bound and you were blindfolded, though you were sure that you wouldn’t recognize your surroundings if you’d been able to see. As such, your oh so gracious guards had dragged you to whoever’s office and thrown you to the floor with as much grace as could have been expected.

“You’re not nearly as fun to watch when you’re tied up like that,” a voice mused, smooth and even. “Leave me with them.”

“Milord,” one of your guards tried.

“You think someone like that would let you throw them around like that?” he the voice purred. “I have faith in your ability to do something as simple as restrain a thief to the point where I can safely interact with them. Unless I shouldn’t?”

“No, no Milord,” the other guard stuttered. “The thief has been restrained as you requested.”

“Good. Now, you two must be curious as to why I wanted to speak to our dear guest, yes?”

“W-well-,” the first guard began, breaking off with a yelp.

“It’s not our place to ask,” his partner broke in, “but even I must admit to curiosity.”

“You two studied under our dearly departed Rosalyne, didn’t you? It shows.” The boss gave a low chuckle. “Well, I’ll tell you anyhow. They put on quite the show last night, didn’t they? Such a graceful sword style on a lowly thief, surely there must be something more there. I can hardly bear to think such a lovely art has fallen to the petty criminals.”

The guards didn’t respond, and you could only imagine the mute nodding and nervous glances they must have been exchanging.

“Leave us now,” the voice told them. “I wish to speak with our dear guest alone.”

The guards hesitated, but left with a reluctant “Yes sir.”

Without waiting for permission, you sat up, tucking your legs beneath you to sit seiza. “Shall I take off that blindfold?” he mused, coming standing up with a sigh of shifting fabric. “I must admit I was struck by the way your eyes glow.”

“What does it matter?” you ask, debating whether or not you could spit on his shoes blind.

“I suppose it doesn’t, does it? Now, what does matter is how you managed to find that particular shipment.”

At this, your mouth twists into a sneer. “We thieves have our ways. You know that.”

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re alluding to, dear, now please be cooperative lest I lose my patience.”

And all you could do was laugh. “To answer your question, the local Treasure Hoarders were getting agitated, so something good must have been on the way. I will tell you, I had a really shady contact. Never worked with the buyer before. Sold the lot of ‘em to her for half again market price. But the Fatui ought to know better than to smuggle precious stones and metals in Liyue.”

“Seems careless to me, that you wouldn’t at least confirm your contact’s reliability.”

You laughed again. “You assume I’m some normal criminal, stealing for the money. I’m a bit of an adrenaline junkie. The money’s nice, and I got paid handsomely, but mostly I just like causing trouble.” Just thinking about it, you could feel your blood heating up. Had he been any less important than he seemed to be, you might have attacked him just to see what he’d do. “So, I don’t particularly care. The threat of getting caught is part of the fun.”

“You’re a foolish creature,” he mused, mulling over your words. “A foolish, lovely thing. I should like to keep you.” He snapped his fingers, an idea striking him. “I know. We’ll have you make another bargain with that buyer of yours.”

You shook your head a little. “She’s not the kind of person someone in our line of work deals with twice unless we want to get caught.”

“Do you not?”

“You think I want to rot in a cell? You’re not very good at this, are you?”

“It’s been a long time since I was your run-of-the-mill pickpocket, yes. I’ve moved on to grander things.” Suddenly he was in your face, you could feel how close he was. You wrinkled your nose at the cologne he was wearing. He took your face in one hand, fingers digging mercilessly into your cheeks. With his other hand, he removed your blindfold. “What?” he asked as his teeth came into focus. “Don’t like it?”

He was pretty, as men sometimes are, and you immediately hated it. Clean well-dressed, and yet he didn’t even deny coming from the same place as you, beginning an illustrious career as a pickpocket. Well, not exactly the same place.

But he didn’t know he wasn’t like you. “Hate it,” you replied easily. “I didn’t grow up caring about being rich.”

“Interesting. So you didn’t grow up a street wench, I assume?”

“Probably not,” you allowed, only growing angrier when his mouth pulled up into a pretty, smug little smirk, grip easing enough to no longer be painful.

“You amuse me, really. It’d be a shame to let you go or kill you.”

You leaned back a little, hoping to put some space between you. “I’d almost rather you killed me,” you muttered, not particularly caring if he heard you.

He probably picked up on this, and leaned forward into your personal space, at the same time, pulling your face closer. You barely suppressed a flinch that he undoubtedly noticed as he placed his forefinger and thumb over your left eye socket, admiring it like a fresh-cut jewel. “You do have such pretty eyes,” he purred, pressing his fingers into the soft flesh, a silent threat. “Maybe I’ll keep one in a jar if I don’t get to keep all of you.”

“Just the person I was hoping to see.”

You scowled. You knew that girl was trouble the moment you laid eyes on her. The fur coat, the jade bracelet that missed its pair, she was openly far too wealthy to be some girl, and yet no one knew her name. “What do you need?” you asked, putting on your work face.

“Now, now, let’s be friendly here. I know who you are, and I’m looking to make a deal with you.”

You click your tongue, turning to face her, leaning back on the bar. This had Tianshu fingerprints all over it. “What kind of deal?” you asked.

The woman sat down beside you, unconcerned, and ordered drinks for the two of you. “What will it be for you tonight?” she asked. “On me, as a gesture of goodwill.”

“A classic mijiu will do,” you replied, unsurprised and unimpressed when she called a top-shelf brand.

“I work with the Ministry of Civil Affairs,” she said, daintily swirling her cocktail, feigning indifference.

“I figured as much,” you told her. “What does the Ministry want with me?” You were sure they were trying to arrest you but you weren’t going to bring it up until they did.

“Because you’re talented,” she said with a knowing little half-smile.

“I’m not the only stray in Liyue that knows how to use a sword,” you reply. “Surely there’s better qualified people than-,” you wave your hand in a gesture to yourself, “this.”

“That’s precisely why I wanted to speak with you. After your father was convicted, we know your siblings moved to Sumeru, where your family’s savings continue to support them, but you disappeared besides a few chance sightings.”

You frowned into your tea. “I’m sure you can imagine why I out of all my siblings want to stay out of the public eye.”

“Naturally,” she agreed, all sympathy. “Though I suspect this is the best offer you're going to get, considering how you've chosen to make your living.”

You clicked your tongue, irritated. “I’ll be the judge of that. Let’s hear this offer before we make assertions.”

At this, she laughed. “I like you. Well here it is. We’ll sponge your record if you become our eyes and ears in the underworld.”

You frowned at her. “I hope you don’t expect me to start a gang.”

She laughed again. “Of course not. We just want someone that can move freely with the less-than-savories, you understand?”

“Hmph.” You couldn’t exactly refuse. She knew who you were, and what you do. Probably had a tail on you if you tried to slip out. “Fine,” you said with a sigh. “What’s the catch?”

She swirled her drink in her glass. “There isn’t one, really. You just report to the Tianshu.”

“I knew it,” you muttered. “Let me guess, you’re the next Tianshu?”

At this, she seemed to be caught off-guard. “Now what makes you think that?”

You shrugged, sipping lightly off your drink. “The public doesn’t know a lot about the Tianshu. I was born into an old martial clan. You work for the Ministry, and yet no one recognizes you. It’s not difficult to put together.”

The woman had gathered herself by now, and was smiling again. “I knew I made the right call. Your decision?”

You scowled. “It’s hardly a decision if I don’t really have a choice. Bring me a written contract.”

She smiled. “That’s what I like to hear. My name is Yelan, the next Tianshu of the Liyue Qixing.”

You waved at her, almost dismissive. “Just tell me where to meet you.”

“How does Xinyue Kiosk sound?” she asked, immediately relaxing into a friendly sort of chat.

You gaped at her. “Even before my father was arrested, do you think I have something to wear to Xinyue?” you asked, incredulous.

“Fair enough, I didn’t really think of that,” she said in a way that seemed to you that she certainly had. “How about Third-Round Knockout? Or Wanmin?”

“Third-Round Knockout is fine,” you sighed, feeling rather like you were getting into much more trouble than a clean record was worth.

“I’m sorry to give you such a risky assignment on your first day, but I heard a little rumor that there was a large shipment of precious stones and metals getting smuggled by the Fatui.”

You nearly choked on your drink. “It’s bad enough you want to make a career criminal of me,” you coughed, scowling at Yelan. “I’m not getting involved with the Fatui.”

“I only need you to confirm it. Feel free to cause them some trouble if you’d like. The Ministry will pay you half again market price if you can retrieve the goods, but prioritize your safety.”

You liked to think you weren’t a money grubber, but half again market price for a shipment of valuables… Well, you were Liyuen. Gold ran in your veins as much as it did anyone else’s. “We’ll see,” you allowed. “When and where?”

Yelan laughed. “So direct. I like that about you.”

You glared at her again. “What do I have to defend?”

She waved off the question. “Lingju Pass. In a fortnight, according to my intel.”

So, she was testing you. Fine.

“Not like I really have a choice,” you muttered.

She beamed at you. “That’s what I like to hear.”

#yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere pantalone x reader #yandere yelan x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #Winner Takes All #yandere pantalone #yandere regrator #yandere yelan

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