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mooishbeam · 7 months

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『♡』 Treasures of the Fraud

♡ featuring: pantalone x f!reader

♡ summary: it's been forever since you've seen your friend, and as the hero of liyue, a new interruption has arisen. you pursue it, only to find memories awaiting you. wc: 9.1k+ (D:)

♡ cw/tw: long lonnggg fic, obsession, mentions of murder, mention of suicide, mentions of blood, manipulation, toxic pantalone, mean pantalone, possessive, spanking, degradation, mild praise, fingering, thigh riding, missionary, overstim, begging, edging, comeshot, pet names (darling, slut)

notes: helloooo!! ive been slow to get stuff out college is kicking my ass rn so sorry. not proofread so i apologize for any mistakes. I can't wait to have more time :) art by yion_yi on ig! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

12 years ago

“Come get me!”

The boy with inky curls spiraling down his back dips through trees, ducking under low hanging branches embellished with vibrant autumn foliage. Messy blends of pink and purple melt across the slowly bleeding sun carried into the night. His silhouette resembles that of a malevolent spirit peeking behind the boughs, leaping over tangled twigs and shallow ditches. His excited screeches signal you to chase after the leading direction. You’re both screaming and laughing down the undoubtedly dangerous shortcuts. If your mother knew about the adventurous risks you were taking at 13, you’d never leave the house again. Tag is a troubling game—despite the thousands of times you’ve played with him, you regularly end up being “it”. You don’t care about losing, though; having someone to call a friend is enough.

You turn into a clearing with columns of trees overseeing your small presence, hundreds of them. The colder night is rising, not a celestial body to shield. In this deep blue void, the leaves seem to be aggrieved at your interruption of some secret meeting, angry and smiling faces crumpling in the whispering wind. You spin around frantically, looking for signs or laughter, but neither reveal themself. It’s quiet besides the downy linger of grass. Your shoulders are snatched back and shaken to a rattling shock. You scream, and he laughs.

“Rahhh! Did I get you?” he jests. Your eyebrows narrow, and you push him lightly to a stumble.

“You scared me!”

“Hah, that’s the point. C’mon, it’s late. Let’s go.” He's scared too, swiftly grabbing your hand as you both brave the darkness back to the village.

“We should’ve been home a while ago” you say quietly. You feel the chill in your bones and press yourself closer to him.

“Yea.” He holds your hand tighter at the sound of a small rock bouncing down a steep hill.

“I had fun today. Let’s do this again tomorrow.”

“I have something to tell you.”

“Okay.”

“I’m moving in the morning” he states. It was nonchalant, but your stomach turns a churning sickness. One you can’t understand yet, it makes you uneasy.

“Oh. Okay, then.” It isn't okay, not in the slightest. But it had to be. Your best friend of 8 years looks at you, aiming to register the gravity of the situation. You both say nothing, but tears start to brim in your eyes in the silence. You wipe them with your arm.

“Will you miss me?” he asks.

“A lot.”

“I’ll miss you too. Lots and lots.” He sways your interlocking hands. You pass by vacant homes tattered and aged by abandonment, overgrown with invading ivy. Homeless reside, caring each other to warmth from the freezing draft. You were lucky to have a home in this little forgotten sector of Liyue. It's a small, unfortunate room, with holes in the roof that drips when it rains and bags over the windows to keep the heat in. The stove never works, and you share a bed with your mother, but every birthday she makes sure to save just enough for a slice of cake with one candle. There isn’t more you could ask for. Everyone in the village suffered from poverty but they made it work, sharing crops and dairy to persevere until the next year. That’s how you met him, sitting on a rock as your mother collected rations. You perform two pebbles in your hands, mumbling sea shanties while imagining voyage on a grueling journey—he sat next to you.

“Those aren’t dolls. They’re rocks.”

“You’re a rock” you retorted.

“No, I’m not.”

“Do you want to be a rock?”

“...That’d be kinda cool.” You gave him a pile of pebbles, and he joined the trip.

You’re getting closer to the village, still processing who you’ll play with once he’s gone. You glance at him, he’s spaced out in a faraway stare. You crave the power to read minds.

“Can we talk about something? I’m getting sad” you sniffle.

“What should be talk about?”

“What are you going to do after you move?”

“I’m gonna be super rich” he assures, looking up at the starless sky as if a meteor would shoot across and grant his wish. “What about you?”

“I’m going to save the world” you proclaim.

“Cool. I hope you do.”

“Me too.”

You arrive at your makeshift door drawn together with scraps of wood and twisted rope for hinges. A dim candle glimmers inside, most likely your vexed mother waiting for your tardily return. He makes space for your entry, and you undo your hands for the last time. Before you go, he snatches your wrist. His eyes are foggy, cheeks an anxious tinge of pink. He isn’t sure what he’s feeling, but the strings in his heart are tense. His mouth shapes to say something, but nothing returns.

“Yeah?”

“...I... I’ll really miss you a lot” he whispers with a lump in his throat.

“Then don’t forget me, okay?”

“I won’t.”

“You promise?” you say and raise your pinky towards him. He curls around it. “I promise.”

“Good. By the way, you’re it now.”

“I’ll get you back when I see you again!” he chuckles. You bid your goodbyes, unaware that it would mark the unforeseen conclusion.

Leaves crunch under your feet as you make your leisurely traverse to Liyue Harbor. It’s just before sunrise and you finished helping the elderly in Qingce Village carry copious amounts of heavy produce to their homes. The thankful candies from seniors' jingle in your pocket as you stretch your weary arms. Your mom offered to cook, but you're determined to locate the best commissions Katheryne had before afternoon. “Maybe I’ll pick up some rice buns” you think out loud at the rumble of your growing appetite. You still had a long way to go before you got to the harbor.

This was your new normal. After your thundering battle with Ningguang and Keqing against Osial, you became an example of Liyue’s triumph. You also became more aware of Fatui tactics, wiping out their swarms with the raging fury of your pneuma and swinging vision. Days of grueling bloodshed resulted in your victory, cementing you as the lionheart of Liyue. Beat up and bruised, the only request you made after your fight was a hot meal and a place for your mom to retire. They delivered both, and you used your recent hero status to provide help to the villagers where needed, be it casual favors or ruthless assault on Fatui agents. You were neither rich nor poor, and lived off the land and kindness of the Liyue Qixing. They often suggested you focus on less mundane tasks, but to you, the most vulnerable age groups warranted priority. There was something about the lighthearted innocent squeals of children and mellow grandparents rocking in their wooden chairs that made you protective to an almost volatile extent.

Bustling interactions of trade and commerce carry through the wind as you enter the harbor—a sound that’s brought you peace for years. The smell of food vendors has you drooling instantly. As you devour the complimentary rice bun, you feel the yank of a little hand on your skirt. You look down and a boy with brown hair searches for familiarity in your face. You recognize him, babysitting him numerous times. You kneel and pat his head, but he doesn’t react or move.

“Hey, what’s up? Where are your parents?” you question, briefly scanning your immediate area for his family. He’s hesitant to speak, as if he can’t find the panicked words, and rushes into your arms. You hug him instinctively and let him sniffle into your shoulder. You pick him up in your grasp and raise his head with your other hand so that he’ll hopefully be open to your compassion.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” The boy wipes his chubby tomato-red face. “Grandma is on the floor, what do I do?” You quell your rising nerves to suppress his alarm and speak calmly.

“Where is she?”

Speed walking towards the destination, the commotion of a small crowd surrounds a kneeling woman in the distance. She’s on her sun-spotted hands and knees, wailing for some bygone Archon. “Grandma!” he yells and jumps out of your arms. You run after him, relieved that the worst case scenario hadn’t occurred. You push through the group and get eye level with her, forehead pressed to the ground spouting religious scripture.

“Are you okay? Do you need medical assistance?” Wise sunken eyes wrinkled with age and torn by tragedy stick to your heart. Her feeble hands encapsulate yours, and tears stream down her cheeks. “They took my baby!” she rasps, rocking back and forth. “Who did?” you ask, and she weeps harder. “They took her memory...my baby, my daughter!” You support her weight and lift her hunched figure off the pavement. “What did they look like, ma’am?”

“A black hood...red mask” she recalls shakily. Instantly miscellaneous chatter ensues. They whisper nervously in each other's ears, he who shall not be named steals their voices. “Fatui probably got ‘er” you hear the mumble of one. Fatui. Your blood boils at the word, and you direct your view to the shrinking man with hands in his pockets. “‘He’ got all of us” he scoffs. “Did they hurt you guys, too?” you ask, and they stare. They’re pained but accepting.

“500,000 mora.”

“194,000 for me.”

They list off their debt one by one, and you’re horrified at the accumulating number. They seem to endure, however; no longer phased by the incurable tally haunting their lives. “H-how are you paying any of this?”

“We can’t. It adds up. Interest, late payments, it always does. So, we give everything, and ‘he’ takes everything, until we have nothing left. We die poor without a possession to our name” a woman sighs. As a child, you heard of the loan sharks that purposely fed false promises to the poor, and once they were reeled in, charged insurmountable payments to blackmail—it was the origin story of most people in your birthplace. Your soul aches for them, but is there anything you can do?

“...I’ll help you, all of you. I’m sure I can-”

Ningguang arrives. She's a nurturing figure to you, the kind that asks if you’ve been eating well and politely scolds you. “What happened?” You lead the tired elder to the Jade Chamber, and she tells her story through choked sobs. You didn’t expect Keqing to already be there, arms folded and turned away from the situation. Ningguang can barely glance at the woman.

“They stormed my home and took my jewelry and belongings. They took the pendant my daughter gave me; it had her face in it. Archons give me strength, my baby! I can’t afford it; I have nothing!” she quakes. You rub her back and Ningguang nods, listening—you can’t help but notice the anxiety blooming on her abstracted face. They take her through the process and once she leaves, Ningguang and Keqing look at each other with a silent understanding. The room is eerily quiet, and Ningguang paces back and forth in front of the intel wall contemplating an uncertain danger. You fumble with your thumbs.

“What are we going to do about this?” you wonder. Keqing clears her throat loudly, attracting the attention of Ningguang. She looks at you, and sighs deeply. “We already know about this issue.”

Your ears perk up. “Great, so how can I help?”

“By doing nothing, (Y/N)” Keqing says.

“...What?”

“I have eyes everywhere; I’ve known for a long time. The Fatui are not people to be taken lightly, especially the harbingers. A few of their skirmishers were caught trading exotic goods and taxing medicine at high prices, on top of extorting the impoverished regions.” Ningguang points to one of the many Fatui exclusive headquarters on the wall. “Pantalone is the richest man in Teyvat, he has more political influence than anyone can imagine, and they answer to him. We can’t risk getting involved with this. They’ve brought this upon themselves, and unfortunately, they must deal with the consequences.”

You can’t accept this response. How can they just desert them? It doesn’t comprehend in your naïvity—you scold yourself for not spotting the signs sooner, furrowing your brows and looking at them with distaste. “I expected this. You shouldn’t have said anything” Keqing chides. “...Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped before-”

“You’re the last person I wanted to know about this” Ningguang interrupts. Your anger feels misplaced, and you bite your lip in restraint. She sits next to you and offers fleeting comfort with a graceful hand on yours. “You’re quite the reactionary type. In due time, this will be sorted. But right now, I need you to calm down, and trust me.” It sounds desperate, you know you shouldn’t go looking for answers, but a snagging thread pulls at the back of your consciousness, all too convincing. You bounce your leg. “You should want revenge just as much as me. Where we came from, where they end up, it isn’t fair.”

“You know I do, more than anything. But we must handle this with care, before too many people get hurt. I’m doing this for the betterment of Liyue as a whole. It’s not easy to make these decisions.”

“We can’t just go around serving justice, there’s laws we have to act with” Keqing adds. You don’t reply and stand up abruptly to leave. The worried Tianquan grabs your wrist one last time. “Promise me you won’t make a mistake, (Y/N). I’m trying to protect you” she pleads.

“I promise. Thank you.” You flash a half genuine smile, already planning to rebel against her wishes.

Who exactly is ‘he’—Pantalone. You don’t even know where to start looking. Too many headquarters, infinite possibilities. The best way you have to find him is through Fatui agents.

You start taking up odd jobs late in the evening, scouring for the possibility that a fatui agent might fall into your hands. Though you considered playing the part of an impoverished villager taking out a loan at Northland Bank, it didn’t guarantee that you’d meet Pantalone in the flesh—it’s more likely that would raise unnecessary suspicion in the process. It’s awkward at first, seeing the hero of Liyue fish on the dock for petty change throughout the night. As you do, the malicious fire in your eyes burns bright at the occasional voice in chill silence. Your vision glows as you toss the hunting knife between your nimble digits. Listening closely to conversations, hoping that one might be unguarded enough to slip up, but nothing of the sort appears—not even the boldness of Fatui skirmishers enables them to divulge secrets under the baleful existence of Celestia.

The moon illuminates sweetly on the tranquil waters lulling you to drowse. You hadn’t heard much since the start of your escapade. A fishing pole is weak in your resistless hold, and you’ve evidently given up on the idea of portraying the hardworking fisherman tonight. You vowed to help the people of Liyue, but justice was seemingly unfeasible. Maybe a direct approach? Should I ambush their headquarters? More so a suicide mission, you’d have no luck achieving that. Just as you’re about to leave, the crunch of withering grass straightens your posture. You make yourself hidden with a burst of energy and slouch behind the bushes as a Fatui pyro agent charges along the route. Through the glutted leaves obstructing your vision, you can just make out the heavy bag on his shoulder and jagged blade waiting restlessly on the other. His stride points towards Qingce Village. You hold your breath disguising yourself with the scenery and allow him to take a few feet between you before you begin following him. He’s rather shifty, those veiled eyes darting back and forth at the lightest noise. You’re careful to glide behind trees, moving with the heartbeat of the wind and taking advantage of the various melody's nature offers. You suck in a breath and duck behind a boulder a few inches too close, and his head snaps in your direction. The feeling of being watched besets him, but with no way to prove it and time running out, he secures his knife for the hypothetical ambush, and makes haste towards the target. Turning a tree, you watch as the pyro wielder knocks on the house of a small worn cottage. A short stocky man appears, shading half his body behind the door.

“H-hello...” you hear faintly. The Fatui keeps his hand firm on the door, one boot propped under the hinge. He presents the flaming knife loosely as he towers over the man. “We’ve given you time.” You were sure now that he's working for Pantalone.

“I don’t have it. P-please, if you could just give me some more-” He slams his fist against the wood, a resounding thump shakes the home. The man cowers. “Give me everything you have. The Regrator won’t wait any long-”

A small rock flies past his mask, skidding on the ground until it comes to a stop. He glares in the direction of the tree you’re hiding behind. You have no plan, nothing but the distracting impulse to stop the assailant from attacking. “Stay here” he commands, and stalks towards you. His slow footsteps get increasingly louder, playful stomps toying with your obvious whereabouts. He twirls the razor-sharp knife, and as he sharply peeks around the corner, you’re nowhere to be found. “Here, kitty kitty” he taunts, spinning towards the lake, then the village grounds for footprints. He severs the air aimlessly in mirth, believing some amateur fighter came to challenge him. As he monitors the tracks under you, you drop down from the wiry branches. Legs wrap tight around his neck, and you catch hold of his hood trying to pull his mask off. He gags but he’s too quick, throwing off your steadiness as he slams your spine on the grass. He whips around to take a stab at your chest, but you roll away guarding the vital arteries. You kick him in the crotch, and he recoils giving you ample time to stand.

You can’t feel the wet laceration dripping down your abdomen as you take a slash at his throat with your weapon, infused with elemental energy. He leans back and meets your strike. You trade blows, the strength of your smite bursting sparks of light above the scratches and bruises. Your wrist burns with the unmoving knives stumbling you. He begins to manifest blazing knives circling his figure, and you jump back from the singing cut melting the cloth. You wipe the dried blood from your mouth, and in the blink of an eye, he disappears. Suddenly, red auras similar to the pyro agent surround you. One by one, the clones charge at you, and you parry their overhead onslaught. Something is different about the last clone, your vision revealing a brighter outline than the others. When the next clone attacks, as you counter you pretend to fall for his trick. With your eyes on the other, he immediately passes through the black fog to deal the killing blow. You’re quicker this time and heave a heavy tear into his chest. Crimson splatters the grass, it shatters his element and rips open the robe. You tackle him on the dirt and wrestle until you kick his weapon away. Your knee digs into his back, and he can barely breathe with his arm locked behind him and knife rigid against his neck. He ttempts to swing at you, but you wrench his arm tighter and slice into his skin just enough to draw blood.

“Fuck. Okay!” he wheezes. “Where is Pantalone?”

“I don’t know what you’re- shit!” You’ve lost patience long ago and twist his arm to dislocate the shoulder. He lets out a blood curdling scream thrashing in pain—you tug hard and focus him. “Shut up and answer my question. Where is Pantalone?” you demand. He hisses in pain and coughs up phlegm mixing with reddening soil. “Kill me.”

“Just tell me and I’ll let you go.”

“I’m a dead man, either way.” he rasps and hangs his head waiting for the execution. You grit your teeth; a drop of guilt leaves a bad taste as you thwack the pressure point on his neck that forces him unconscious. You glance at the bag he left and limp over to rummage through the contents. Useless papers crumple under stolen items, but one note catches your eye. Presumably a to-do list, you read to the bottom. A list of homes, goods on standby exchanges—at the bottom of those, a rendezvous point:

Report back- Yilong Bank, Liyue

You rest in a plot of prickly bushes and leave in the morning after patching yourself up. You couldn’t stop now, not when you were this close to facing him. You soothe your body from the twigs prodding you all night, and check the wound suppressed by gauze. It’s a light scar now, apparent after bathing in the warm water on the outskirts of Qingce. You contemplated telling Ningguang about what occurred, but imagining the look on her face once she knew kept you moving.

Tucking your vision where it can’t be viewed, you take a waverider to Yilong Port into the afternoon. You concoct a half-baked scheme, one that relies on every scenario being perfect to a tee. Unreliable, but probably your only chance. The plan amounts to scaling the building and breaking in through the office window, snatching everything owned by the villagers and breaking out before anyone notices. Easy in your capabilities, but you have no idea what the building looks like, nor do you know where the office is. The man driving wears all black, an outfit that stands out from the rest of the region. He stares at you blankly, and once you’re aware, you meet eyes. His smile is uncanny, stretching across his face with an abnormal friendliness.

“Is this your first time at the port?” he asks, finger tapping the wheel. Be it sleep deprivation or ignorance; you don’t recognize red flags in his behavior. You smile at the courteous face. “Yeah, the weather’s beautiful out here.”

“Mhm, hot weather up here. On vacation?”

“Nah, I have business here.” The minuscule edge of your vision catches in the light. He homes in on the passing twinkle. You wonder why his eyes widen momentarily, and his finger starts to tap methodically, as if memorizing a coded pattern.

“Business...what kind?”

“Oh...I have some items to trade.” You close off your answers feeling that you’ve said too much. He subsides with a stale expression. “If you’re looking to trade, you might find luck at Yilong Bank” he utters monotonously.

“And where is that?” You feign disinterest, but victory is too loud on your tongue.

“Up the mountain.” The waverider halts at the harbor, and he turns his head away from you unusually cold, akin to a mechanical bot shutting down. “Welcome to Yilong Port.”

You make yourself invisible in the crowd and wait for nightfall. People still roam the port along with Fatui monitoring the front of the bank, which gives you leeway to blend in as you find passage around the back of the mountain. It’s a steep, dark incline jutted with irregular jagged stones. The imposing size of the climb tangles knots in your stomach, and you wipe the persistent sweat on your top. In one huge leap, you latch onto a craggy indent, and begin your ascension.

Your legs feel like jelly with each contact of the unforgiving breeze. You sway alongside the spirit of anemo and swallow your anxiety before leaping to the next rock. Shoes plant into rock and nails excavate fresh cobble on the next jump. By the time you’ve realized, you’re already up most of the mountain. You tug yourself even with the land as a barreling gust of wind goads your glance to the ground, kilometers beneath you. Your breath stills, and for a second dizziness overtakes your nerves at the thought of slipping. I could die, one mistake and I’m dead. You focus, and spring to the next piece. Without warning, rock gives way into pebbles at the weight of your foot. You nearly plunge, but anchor onto the small bump out with one hand. You’re dangling off the edge, playing with death while you fortify your body. Hyperventilation makes your heartbeat thrum incessantly and stress palpitates tired muscles; If you didn't have your vision, you would’ve fainted to your demise. You bite the bullet, push your heels in and persevere through the hurdles. The next thing you clutch is malleable in your palm. You vault over the cliff, the smell of dew is overwhelming. The back of the bank—the end goal—is visible.

One Fatui member remains in the front. You scale up the building effortlessly, nothing compared to the hell you just went through. Shifting window to window, your eyes land on the pitch-black darkness of the room at the top of the building. An ideal glow casts on the fraction of precious gold resting on a coffee table. This has to be it. You slink through the window soundlessly, and land on the balls of your feet. Analyzing the dish, you don’t discern the pendant. You can faintly identify some bookshelves near the dish, and tiptoe further inside. You creep around luxury sofas, and squint at the embellished glass case next to the door, containing all manner of jewelry and valuable possessions. You won; this was it. You scurry to it, moving with abrupt carelessness. One more step.

Click

The fireplace you didn’t heed is set aflame. It flickers sneering shadows on the opposite wall and brightens the case. You pause and hope. There’s a confining silence stirring in the room, like someone is with you. The case is visible now, and so is the key to opening it.

You fell into a trap.

“Looks like I have a little thief on my hands.”

A bittersweet voice in the sable, reminiscent of rich dark chocolate, rolls off the room. He steps out obscurity behind his desk and your eyes adjust, revealing the tight black turtleneck compressing his willowy torso and gloves adorned with silver rings. You can’t see the upper part of his face, but the chains of his glasses hang in front of that duping smile. You expected the Fatui harbinger to be on the stronger side, physically intimidating. It’s not physical, but you feel a certain fear boiling in your body. He’s not terrifying, but you tremble. His presence makes your hair stand and sends waves of goosebumps up your arms. You can’t find the will to move your wobbly legs. His charmed laugh rings in your ears and causes you to hold your breath. He has no vision; you shouldn’t be afraid. You could take him on easily, why can’t you fight?

“Hello, honored hero of Liyue” the headless man taunts. It makes it worse that he knows who you are. How long had he known you were coming? Was your plan doomed from the beginning? Your feet are stuck in molasses as your fight or flight shuts down at the man before you.

“Now, tell me. What is the little thief doing, barging into my office to take the possessions I worked so hard for? Not very heroic of you, If I may say.” There’s power in his stature—you forget how to speak. He holds his palm out to you. Tangled between his fingers, is the ornate golden pendant you’d been searching for, a woman’s face in the frame. Your eyes widen, and the sweet familiar curve of his lips stretches in amusement.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” The plod of low-heeled boots accompanies unveiled darkness, and you can observe his entirety. Amethyst eyes drunk with an orchid hue pool into your being. Lazy curls brush against his glasses and kiss his porcelain skin. He’s beautiful, a calm enticing rip current that sweeps you with immeasurable pressure before you can pull yourself out. He leans on the desk, observing the chain halfheartedly. If you weren’t careful, you’d mistake the look on his face for genuine kindness; you’d drown, just like he craved. Nonetheless, you can’t shake the emotion his smile grants.

“Yes. That’s all I need, and I won’t bother you again” you whisper meekly, hoping that he’d let you go with the pendant in a spur of forgiveness. The jest in his eyes says something different.

“Come get it.”

Come get it. Your mind begins to piece the man into a stage of your life you’d forgotten. It can’t be him. Memory tells intrusive truth in short flashes. Inky curls spiraling in front of you as you chase. He was consistently miles ahead of you. It was irrelevant how far apart you were; he’d always find you. That big, curving smile for every match he won. Purple eyes glancing back at yours; the same ones that withheld tears when you said goodbye.

“Come get me!”

Tears stream down your eyes for the friend you thought you’d never see again. Childhood laughter bleeds into his current cat-like conniving snicker, and you gaze at his face.

“I... remember you” you choke. He looks up without a smile, perceiving an unexpected thought, and meets your eyes. There’s a hint of affection in the warm smile beaming on his face. “My my, (Y/N). You have quite the memory.”

You’re motionless, full of something that catches in your lungs. This isn’t the triumph you wanted, and now that you’re face to face you feel powerless. He must’ve known the entire time. Watching you fight and work alone, sending Fatui to roam in Liyue, all done to toy with you. Your lip quivers, swelling in your already deafening heartbeat.

“How long...” you utter. He inquires with the tilt of his head.

“How long have you been messing with me?” Your eyes adhere to the floor, pride that won’t permit you to shed misery for Pantalone. He drinks in your resistant frame, the kind he desires to break; perhaps this game of cat and mouse isn’t done, after all.

“This hurts me too, (Y/N). I wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t so…persistent.” Your confusion spills over in shaky, weak huffs. You can’t maintain your composure, and make yourself first to oppose the authoritative man on his own territory.

“How could you do this to anyone? We grew up poor!” You shout with balling fists.

“It’s inefficient to dwell on the past” he replies with gentle cadence and languid grace unrepresentative of his cruel tactics. You nearly regret raising your voice.

“These people are at their wits end and you’re taking advantage of them” you chide. He slowly paces towards you. Pantalone looks down on you from height disparity, but the royal glower pities you, judges worth you can’t see.

“Driven by emotions, are you that simple? You presumed that if you stormed in here, and professed a touching story, that I would suddenly see the error in my methods?” You’re not sure what you’re here for anymore or why you haven’t left yet. Subconscious urges can't determine if they should slap or hug the man inching towards you. “I simply enforce contracts and exchanges. No one can be swindled by a debt accreted on their own.”

“No one asks to be poor either” you interject. Pantalone’s a foot away from you now, analyzing your reactions to his personal entertainment. He recalls the blurry past—the pranks you pulled together that ultimately failed from your loud hurried sneakiness tripping to alert the farmers, helping out for loose change so that you’d split a snack between each other that wasn’t big enough to share, gazing at the twinkling night imagining a distant future—you changed and stayed the same, but he keeps wanting more.

“Weigh the odds. They either die impoverished or live by passage of loans. I merely provide a service. Does that make me so cruel?” You can’t find an answer.

“You’ll always be my friend, but I need it back. It can’t be much to forgive someone’s debt” you plead.

“You still consider me a friend?”

“I think…you’re hurt. And you’re trying to heal. We all are. I know I’ve dealt with a lot as I’ve gotten older and I think you have, too. Power corrupts even the best people in this world, so maybe you’re not a bad person. But you’re doing bad things, and this isn’t the right way to get better.”

Pantalone is quiet for a few long moments. His hands web his face, but you can clearly see the pearly fangs in his open-mouthed smirk. Then he laughs—dulcet and mocking, it lingers for too long as he throws his head back and relishes the obtuse notion. He gazes with insulting compassion and stalks towards you.

“Incredibly…. gullible. Mora is the pathway to all endeavors. Devoid of gnosis or divine knowledge, wealth has rendered me impervious to control. Suffering and destitution only manifest if I will it. I am the guise of a false god, an emblem of achievement.” It’s borderline delusional the way he regards himself, arms moving in theatric grandeur, the star of his own opera.

“Does that make you feel good? Stepping on the backs of the community that raised you, and abandoning them because they chose not to be influenced by greed?” Pantalone towers over you. His fingers brush light against your sensitive ears, trail to your clenched jaw, and finally cup your frustrated cheeks with the cradle of a long-lost lover.

“It does, in fact. I’m not easily swayed by ridiculous optimism, that’s why I’m at the top. You’ve devoted your blood and tears to a region that will succumb to adversity in your absence. Is that not a pointless feat?”

“So what? That doesn’t mean we just don’t help people. You have nothing without the Fatui, you’re a pawn just like the others” you retort. He brings his lips close to the shell of your ear, and his breath hot on the untouched skin drags a tingle up your spine.

“And what do you know about the Fatui?” he whispers.

“I know enough. You’re all disgusting.” He huffs out his nose.

“Disgusting isn’t the right word. I’d say...opportunists.” Pantalone backs up, sliding his hand up your chin and tilting your attention to the intense glint. “But you’re clever, I’ll give you that. If only you were clever enough to know your place.” You'd forgotten you were acting out of line. You refocus your mindset to negotiation.

“I’ll do anything you ask for the debt. Please, just give it back.” The word “anything” evokes a malicious yearning—so forthcoming without understanding the implications of “anything”, of eternity. He caresses your cheek.

“Anything, hm? Even if I said to give up being a hero for good? Would you still call yourself a heroic traveler if you weren’t allowed to travel or adventure as you please?” he teases. Your mouth opens to refute, but you bite your bottom lip instead. Pantalone walks back to his desk and leans while dangling the golden chain. Now that he’s far, the invading space between you two shows how insignificant you are in this luxury palace.

“Your resolve moves me. Consider this; make an exchange with me, and I’ll guarantee not only her debt, but the debt of all residents in Liyue forgiven” Your face instantly lights up, ready to accept it without thinking.

“What is it?” you ask.

“In exchange for regional loan forgiveness, I want you.”

“...What?”

“I want everything you have. It’s the fairest exchange I can make. Your obedience, your loyalty, and your body.”

The choice turns in your frontal lobe. You can’t fathom giving yourself to a man, let alone a Fatui harbinger. It’s unbecoming of a hero to lie with the enemy.

“Absolutely not” you assure.

“Alright. Then allow their village to be reduced to nothing.” No, wait. “You may leave. However, if you do, you’ll cause great misfortune to that woman and her struggling family” You play into his covet so smoothly as you stand in the center of the room, reluctant to leave.

“I’m not a complete monster, so I’ll give you 5 seconds to make a choice.” He sways the pendant in his hand like the transient time of an hourglass. 5 seconds, all you have to sign your life away.

“4.”

What if no one ever sees you again? What’s the point of sacrificing your happiness and freedom, are the people of Liyue truly worth it?

“3.”

You could threaten him, take him hostage so that a harbinger might bow to your demands. That, or they kill you, and the village suffers anyway.

“2.”

You think of your graying mom, the sweet boy with his chubby red face who cries over the smallest things, the grateful elders that give you candy after every good deed, Ningguang and Keqing stressing over the next financial impact.

“1.”

“I’ll do it.”

Pantalone swings the chain into his palm, an undefeated smug overbearing as he sets it on the desk. There was never a point in resisting; he always got what he wanted, no matter how long it took to achieve it. He waited months—no, years—to get you in this exact moment. There’s a daunting beguiling charm in the way he closes the gap between you two. You glare at him; a temper common people would dread shooting. He assesses the pending punishment and lowers himself eye-level. He grins, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I can see the defiance in your eyes. Do you want to talk back? Go ahead, challenge me.” You don’t test this scenario and turn your head. “Don’t patronize me. Get it over with, ‘Pantalone’.”

He quirks an eyebrow, and pliable flesh strains your teeth as your face is gripped rough by satiny leather. You’re twisted sharply to the calm expression—it humbles you.

“That’s not how you address your superior. What should you call me?” You don’t answer promptly to his liking, and he tightens his grip. “Answer me properly, darling.”

“...Sir.” Pantalone plants a sickly sugary kiss on your forehead, the kind that makes you forget how petrifying he can be, and lets you go.

“Good.” He walks back to the desk and sits in the onyx chair embellished with silver jewels fit for a king. His chin rests on bridging hands. “Strip.”

You don’t move, your heart hammers in your chest at the request and you stir uncomfortably. You have no experience with sexual gratification, let alone exposing yourself to an old friend.

“(Y/N). Don’t make me say it again.” Keen agitation in his voice serves as a final warning. He eats you with his eyes, homed in on your hands clumsily snaking the top over your head. A glimpse of the scar you received during your fight with the Fatui captures him. He takes a mental entry, for an explanation that might justify why the agent suddenly goes missing. You were generally too busy to look in the mirror or analyze your assets, and pleasure was a removed afterthought—so the hungry fervor warming your skin and permeating the room clamped your thighs shut. You’re visibly flustered and nervous fumbling with the clasps on your bra while stabilizing your anxiety, and he delights in every second of the accidental strip tease. It feels like fresh meat introduced to a savage animal, and the instant your bra omes off, a new vulnerability coils in your gut. You move to your bottoms; the sheen of sweat polishes your plush thighs to wiggle out of them. You’re left in nothing but tantalizing panties hugging you in the right places. His eyes undress and redress you, tracing up and down the perk of your nipples, tempting fullness of your thighs, each unseen curve and perfect imperfect mark on your glistening body. He lets out a deep breath to stop himself from jumping over the table and taking you right there.

“The underwear. Take it off” he says, an undertone of lust. You shimmy the fabric off and fully expose yourself. You impulsively cover your intimate parts and avert your eyes, but you can still feel Pantalone on you, ravaging you. He doesn’t bother telling you to put your arms at your sides, your bashfulness combined with an attempt at stoicism is comical.

“Ah, the little thief is trying to act tough. That's cute” Pantalone teases and leans back in the chair. Manspreading, he pats his thigh. “Crawl.”

He’s hellbent on shaming the defiance out of you. It’s a vile command, but you begrudgingly drop to your hands and knees. You drag your chaffed knees on wood, balancing like a newborn fawn adjusting to its legs. It’s humiliating and downright degrading; the cold floor fails at cooling your burning fever. You’re on the verge of tears, but Pantalone can’t help but smile. You get around the desk and look up at him, waiting for the next horrible thing he’ll have you do. “Unfortunately, the stunt you pulled impeded my paperwork. Be a good thing and sit on my lap until I’m done.” A “thing”—that’s all you were now, a shiny trophy meant to be ogled at but never taken seriously, used and thrown away. You stand off your scraped raw knees and straddle his thigh, hands balancing the leg so you don’t fall.

And Pantalone starts to work. Working as if you’re not there, filling in the spaces on his documents. For some reason, it’s more demeaning this way, you truly are just a prize. One hand dances beautiful penmanship in masterful motions on embossed paper, the other fondles and explores your being. The gloves brush down your delicate spine, nonsensical shapes drawn on your lower back that make you shiver and pool heat in places you’ve never thought of. You’ve never been touched like this, it’s needles light on your skin. They move to your stomach, pleasant circles above the pelvis that threaten to go lower. He’s careful to trail his hand up your cleavage and behind your neck, neglect your hardening nipples and repeat the process over and over. He’s painstakingly slow, savoring the dazed arch of your back, massaging your inner thighs and dragging the sleek material over your rear.

Middle and index sweep across your lips, pulling your bottom lip to reveal teeth, and prods your mouth. Pantalone’s fingers are invasive, they exploit your gums and twirl around the squishy tongue molding to his appetite. He plays with the pink mass, and it fills you like a kiss. He’s everywhere and he hasn’t looked at you once. You hate it, the kind elegance and refinement of his technique that makes every calculated word and action reek of opulence. Yet, arousal pools on the surface, sticking to your labia and clouding your drowsy mind. It’s an extreme ache that doesn’t go away from cold showers or shrugging off like you usually would. You can’t remember what you did today, yesterday, or the day before that. The sensation of him consumes you and persists in spots he left. He smells of expensive cologne, hints of heady wood and sage. You’re lucky his fingers are in your mouth, or piteous moans would spill out of you. Flat on his thigh, the subtle jolts of his leg rub against your hypersensitive clit and set your nerves on fire. Throbbing swells in your core, and you struggle to stay stiff as your hips stutter.

Pantalone knows exactly what he’s doing. Your labored pants sound like saintly melody while you writhe on his lap. The fabric goads your pulsing pussy, and you hang your head in embarrassment of the juices soaking your thighs and his. He’s surprised you have strength left to withstand the itch. You do your best to hover above it, trailing thick strings of slick. “There’s no need to pretend you don’t like this. Just give yourself to me” he whispers. And it’s so enticing, an invitation that might let you come if you ask. However, remnants of pride cling to your melting resolve, you can’t give in yet. He takes the fingers out and presses on your nipple, flicking the bud. You can’t hold the mewl, and he snickers.

“So indignant for the hero of Liyue, to be on a harbingers lap, reduced to a pretty pet.” Your ears tune out the insults. The damp gloves pull and pinch your puffy nipples, then knead to soothe the pain. He does the same to the other, switching between both as he feels you squirm.

He works on the last few pages. Piles upon piles of reports and records—they detail the deaths, or “suicides”, of clients who’d disappeared mysteriously after extended absence of payments for millions of mora, people who dared go against the Regrator. Unruly, uncooperative clients that take advantage of fair exchange, and pay the price for it.

Your arms get tired, and you settle on him again. Pantalone starts to softly bounce his leg, enough for you to notice the friction on your clit. It’s too much, you can’t take it anymore, and start to rut your hips on his thigh. You look messy, smearing your essence on those overpriced slacks and biting back your moans. Pleasure flows in your veins, and you give up. His cock throbs nonstop, print stealing space in his pants. “Did you believe I wouldn’t catch you? You’re not sneaky enough. You’re not good enough," he taunts from the corner of his eye. You hump his leg like a desperate bunny, chasing the addictive high.

“Nasty slut, fucking your hips on a man you barely remember.” He moves his hands to your clit and replaces the slacks with slippery leather. You grind on it harder and hold your moans. More, more, more. He coats it in the mess and finally diverts his attention to you. He teases your entrance gliding vertically on your vulva before pushing one finger in. It hurts at first, but your walls hug him eagerly, pulling it deeper. He coaxes it to take another and starts scissoring your gushy walls.

“I’ll devour you. I’ll inscribe my name upon every surface of your physique until it adorns your lips, and I’m the only thing that remains.” Pantalone starts pumping rhythmically, tormenting, poking everywhere but your g-spot. Gloss drips down his knuckles and glazes his rings.

“S-sir please, s’too much” you whimper, mustering up an ineffective stable voice. “Hmm? Can you hear the lewd sounds you’re making?” Loud squelches sing from him fucking your insides. Each time you try to speak, he elicits another moan.

“M-my sto-mach hurtss” you whine. He holds your waist in place with the other hand and continues the assault. “I know, it hurts? Would you like me to alleviate the pain?” he coos. You nod fast.

“Hold it in. You ask for permission every time you’re close, do you understand?” You don’t reply and try to angle your body to get more contact. You make the mistake of guiding yourself to your clit and earn a harsh stinging slap on your hand. “Don’t touch what’s mine” he orders. You’re frustrated and he’s doing it on purpose, it’s entirely too hot where pleasure and pain blur. “N-not yours” you stammer, and he stops. He pulls out your warmth and you whine from loss of pressure. Looking at him, there's no smile, and the irritation on his face makes your heart drop. You're really in for it.

Without delay, your stomach flies over one of the chair arms, and you hold onto it for dear life. It presses firm on your ribs, and he slants your ass to the air. “You have courage, speaking back to me” he says. He pulls his gloves off and hurls them. They’re lovely, the silken soft hands of a man who hadn't lifted a finger through combat a day in his life. They sink into your sex, and you moan out for him. The other winds back, and you feel the palm hit brutally on your unsuspecting backside. Crack. It echoes in the room, and you almost fly forward.

“Disrespectful.” Crack. He keeps pumping through it, and tears collect in your lashes.

“Disobedient.” Crack. There’s blood rushing to your head, and violent smacks make your pussy flutter and ass ripple; his control won’t give you adequate touch.

“Little.” Crack. Every time he feels you getting there, he pauses. A masochistic pleasure whirls innermost.

“Brat.” Crack. Both cheeks are a sore fiery color and beginning to welt, but he resumes. You’re drenching his palm, sobbing from prolonged edging and Pantalone laughs. “Pfft, you’re crying? Too embarrassed to beg? Perhaps I’ll give you what you want, if you grovel hard enough, darling.” An incoherent orchestra of please’s mesh with broken moans. “Sir m’sorry. Wan’ it so bad, p-please!” you mumble. There’s no dignity on your lips, no residue of the hero you once were. Drunken ardor floods your short-circuiting brain.

“Oh, what do you say? You want it? Is that it? I'll let you have it... but only if you say it loud and clear for me” he croons. He winds his fingers in a come-hither gesture that licks your core.

“Please...I won’t misbehave again!” He spreads your ass apart and watches your hole pucker from lining the brink.

“I’m not sure I want to give it to you now. It's a lot more enjoyable watching you squirm and beg.”

“’M yours, sir. Please give it to me. I’ll be s’good, promise!” you mewl. You’re so pathetic, it’s endearing. He simpers and maneuvers impossibly fast while gyrating your clit. “How humiliating. You’ve satisfied me.” Your eyes roll back, and you dissolve in pure euphoria. There’s black dots in your vision, and it doesn’t stop as he starts torturing your overstimulated clit with the pad of his thumb. Your tears only encourage him. You jerk and spasm, but he moves where you move with insistent skill. “T-too m-”

“Aww, what’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted, where are your manners?” Pantalone pulls out and delivers staggering mean swats to your pussy, and you recoil. “Say thank you” he demands.

“Thank you, sir.” He hums and picks you up in his arms. Before color can return to your numb cells, he lays you on the desk. You watch him pull his shirt up to his pecs with haste and uncover the lean skinny midsection. Unzipping his pants, he unsheathes his leaking thumping erection. Even his dick is pretty, it curves upwards and shades a starving dusty pink past the thin strip of tissue on the underside of his bulbous tip. Composure thinning, a bead of pre come runs down his tip at the sight of provocation sluicing your ass and thighs. His glasses plunge down his neck, body blushed wildly, but he doesn’t care. Pantalone slides between your labia and groans at the sound. Engulfing the tip in awaiting velvet warmth, “You’re so good for me, hm?” he sighs. You embrace him, delicious searing stretch of your walls forming to his cock. Your orgasm builds just from your body accommodating the size. He places your hands on your calves and holds them at your sides. He slips out, and in one swoop, drives into you. His heavy balls smack against your ass as he thrusts frenetically in the gooey grip he’d been waiting for, stalking and spying for. He digs crescent shapes in your waist and uses you to his abundance. The desk base creaks and grinds on abrading wood and obituaries float to the floor with overturned calligraphy ink from the unrelenting momentum. You throw your head back and indulge the carnal lust washing over you both.

“You’ll never see anyone ever again. Fuck- you’re mine, and mine alone. You’re nothing but a come dump, your purpose is to please me, hah, until I say it’s over” his voice is unexpectedly deprived and weighty with vulgar whimpers. Pantalone eyes your neck and encapsulates it in his slender hand. He clenches tight and releases in sporadic bursts that have you seizing around him. For a split second there’s the image of you—exorbitant pearled collar wrapped around your throat, with “Pantalone” inscribed in bedazzled letters—and he loses it. He swipes your clit rapidly and feeds you deep strokes; you’ll definitely die. You speak, but it’s unintelligible rambling.

“Use your words” he lilts, squeezing your airflow taut. “C-can I, sir, please?”

“You’ll do it on my command.” Pantalone thrusts frenetically, you can feel him bucking, twitching and quickly approaching his climax. His hips sputter, chanting some mixture of your name and curses under his breath. “You’re so obedient for me, aren’t you? F-fuck, darling, go ahead. Come on my cock.” You permit yourself to surrender, white noise streams in and time slows as you come down his shaft. A creamy ring forms at the hilt of his slaps. You recite “thank you” through wails with the semblance of a follower at the altar of their savior. Then he grabs your face and goes in for a kiss.

It’s sloppy and misses half your lip, but its doughy attachment mellows your blissed out head. His lips taste like the bitter excess of green tea, and you crane for a better sample. His tongue does things his fingers couldn’t, and swirls around yours in a passionate bruising waltz. Pantalone breaks away, a string of saliva when he frees himself. “Mm, coming. Gonna claim you everywhere” he whimpers. Sweat on his lustered abdomen, he pumps his tender cock before spurting thick hot ropes across your tits and stomach. He paints your vulva with the rest and plunges the tip in your entry so as to not waste the endless globs of white. He tremors inside you until soft, and when some dribbles out he fingers it back inside.

Afterwards, Pantalone opens one of the drawers on the desk and takes out an embossed loan dismissal form. You can’t read the finer details through hazy eyesight. “It’s already signed, so don’t worry. I won’t deceive you.” He caresses your face in his normal sing-song attitude. “We depart in the morning.” You don’t have a clue where you’re going or how you’ll get there as you drift unconscious. Once you’re asleep, Pantalone shuffles in a different locked drawer. He twiddles the stunning purple geode in his hand, a crystal lined mineral you gave to him years prior. He looks at you, then the druse, and cackles.

“Mine. Always.”

#genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin au #pantalone smut #pantalone #pantalone headcanons #headcanon #pantalone x reader #pantalone x you #pantalone x y/n #genshin impact pantalone

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dvhuwr · 7 months

Text

Genshin Impact - NSFW Pantalone Alphabet Head Canons !!

Pairing: AMAB Pantalone + AFAB Reader

Synopsis + Information: NSFW Pantalone Head Canons for every letter of the Alphabet.

Tags: Mentions of Sex, Cream pie, BDSM, Uneven Power Dynamic, Rough Sex, Anal, CNC, Mentions of innocence and vulnerability, Overstimulation, Fingering, Fellatio, Cunnilingus, Edging, Quickies, Dirty Talk, Lap Dance, Face Fucking, Free Use, Pet Name “Princess”

Minors do not interact with my account or this post! Enjoy!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after the act). As one of the wealthiest individuals in Teyvat, Pantalone never fails to spoil you. He takes great pleasure in rewarding you with expensive and lavish gifts including jewellery and designer clothing. This is his way of showing appreciating and love for you after having sex. Due to the nature of your sex, he also checks up on you, to see if you’re okay and if there’s anything you may need.

B = Body part (Their favourite Body part). He absolutely adores your face. Whilst he, of course, likes your body, there’s nothing better than seeing the lewd faces you make whilst he shoves his cock deep into your pussy.

C = Cum (Anything cum related). Pantalone enjoys finishing inside of you, he likes watching his seed drip down your cunt, he finds it very erotic. He also enjoys finishing inside of you to reduce the mess, plus, he believes finishing ‘on’ you is tacky.

D = Dirty Secret (A dirty secret of theirs). He is very turned on by BDSM. He has a vast collection of bondage, ropes, whips and other various ‘toys’ that could be used in the BDSM department. He loves seeing your moans of pain, it makes him feel like he has power over you, and that you’re his own personal toy.

E = Experience (How experienced are they?). Very. He knows exactly what he’s doing. As a wealthy and influential figure in Teyvat, there is no surprise that he has had his fair share of encounters with women.

F = Favourite Position (Favourite sex position). Pantalone is a very busy man, dealing with Snezhnaya’s economy and so forth. Therefore, a commonly used position is doggy on his work desk. Whenever he feels the urge to, he will pull you to the side and bend you over his desk, and without warning, he will thrust into your pussy whilst tightly gripping the back of your hair. It’s quick and get’s the job done, as most days he doesn’t have time for drawn out intercourse. It also makes him feel powerful; being able to pull you to the side and force you to take his cock from behind.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment or are they humorous). No. Pantalone is not someone who jokes around, especially during sex. If you ever try to joke around with him, he will make sure to punish you accordingly.

H = Hair (How groomed are they down there). He believes self-care is of utmost importance, especially down there. He is completely shaved and keeps up with this daily.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, the romantic aspect). He can be romantic when he feels it is appropriate; in fact, Pantalone can be very romantic, taking you out to fancy dinners and buying you expensive and beautiful bouquets of flowers. But don’t be fooled, as soon as he gets you into bed, he’ll be rough, demanding and dominant.

J= Jack off (Masturbation). He doesn’t masturbate, he believes masturbation is ‘tacky’. He knows he can pull you to the side any time he wants and fuck you senseless; therefore, masturbation is of no use to him.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks). He has many. He mostly indulges in CNC and BDSM. He loves the feeling of forcing himself onto you, and being as rough as he pleases. Panting heavily whilst he’s hunched over you, thrusting into your ass whilst you moan his name and tell him to stop.

L = Location (Favourite places to have sex). Pantalone believes having sex in public is tacky and stays away from such, especially since his reputation is of value to him. Therefore, the bedroom tends to do the job, especially since that’s where he keeps his collection of sexual ‘toys’. However, he is a busy man who is constantly working at his desk, and he won’t be afraid to bend you over his desk and rail you from behind when he feels like it.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going). Whenever he sees you looking vulnerable and innocent, it turns him on greatly. He also just plays off of instinct as well; he has a high sex drive so, whenever he has the urge to have sex, he’ll drag you toward him and slam you onto his desk before fucking you like there’s no tomorrow.

N = No (Turn offs, things you shouldn’t do). He is not open to you not taking him seriously, and if he can sense you joking around this will frustrate him. Additionally, any sort of public sex or threesomes are completely off the table for Pantalone; he feels as if these activities are for ‘low lives’ and are ‘tacky’.

O = Oral (Preferences, skill). He enjoys face fucking you, watching the beautiful mess he creates all over your face. But he can’t help but eat out your cunt. Eating pussy is something he is extremely skilled at; he’ll suck on your clit while sliding his fingers in and out of your cunt until your dripping wet and begging him to keep going. And, when he feels like it, he’ll edge you and stop as your about to cum, leaving your pussy twitching and pulsing for more. What a tease!

P = Pace (Are they fast, slow, rough or gentle?). His pacing can depend on the scenario. He can be slow or fast or rough or gentle. However, he almost always prefers starting off slightly slowly to tease you and leave you begging; then suddenly fucking you hard, rough and fast to overstimulate you.

Q = Quickies (Opinion on Quickies). He takes pleasure in having quickies with you, especially during his work hours. There’s something so perverted about swiping the contents of his desk to the floor and roughly slamming into your tight ass while he’s meant to be reading through tedious documents.

R= Risk (Are they game to experiment). Pantalone cares too much about his reputation to take risks during sex, especially if it’s public sex. Being caught in such a degenerate act is the last thing he wants and needs.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they last for, how long do they last?). Long. Not only can he go for a while without finishing, but he also has the stamina and endurance to go for plenty of rounds. He can really go for hours if you let him, though you probably wouldn’t be able to walk afterwards.

T = Toy (Do they own toys or use them?). He loves using toys on you. As mentioned before, Pantalone has a vast collection of whips, toys, ropes, paddles and so forth that he takes pleasure in using. His favourite are the ropes; he likes tying your wrists and ankles together so there’s no chance you can escape him, even if you beg him to stop. The whines of pain and over stimulation are sounds that can make him cum in a matter of seconds.

U = Unfair (How much do they tease?). Pantalone takes great enjoyment from teasing you, it makes him feel dominant and powerful. He’ll swirl his tongue around your clit whilst thrusting his fingers into you, gradually increasing the speed till’ you’re about to cum. But then, he stops. He’ll leave your pussy pulsing and you begging for more, and he won’t continue until he feels like you’ve done an adequate amount of begging. Watching how desperate you get for him is a massive turn on.

V = Volume (How loud are they, what sounds do they make?). He isn’t very loud. He’ll breathe heavily and lightly moan whilst thrusting into you, but he definitely isn’t loud. However, if he’s dirty talking you, he may raise his voice slightly, to make sure you can understand every single word he’s saying to you. “Look at me brat, look at me while I shove my cock into your little cunt,” he’ll demand of you.

W = Wild Card (A random NSFW Head canon of choice). Pantalone loves lap dances. Quite frequently he’ll ask you to dress up for him and show him some dance moves. He’ll even throw money at you to treat you as if you were a stripper; then once his cock starts leaking in his pants, he’ll push you to your knees and face fuck you relentlessly.

X = X-Ray (What’s inside his pants?). Pantalone may have a cute and innocent smile, but don’t let this deceive you, he really is packing down there. Measuring out at 7 inches, his cock can really do some damage if he isn’t careful. But sometimes the pain feels too good.

Y = Yearning (Sex Drive). He may be a busy man, but this doesn’t affect his extremely high sex drive. He just can’t help but thinking about fucking your tight asshole, he loves it. Furthermore, the fact that you’re pretty much always available for him to ‘use’ makes it easier for him to act on his thoughts, rather than suppress them.

Z = ZZZ (How quickly do they fall asleep after sex?). No; he’s too busy for that. Once he’s done with you, he’ll usually leave to continue his work. He’ll check up on you after sex and make sure you’re okay and he’ll remind you, “If there’s anything you want, tell the maids. Oh, and also, I’ve left some Mora on the bedside table, go treat yourself if needs be Princess.”

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ever-4sunlight · 27 days

Text

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 (𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏)

Includes: dottore, pantalone, childe, arlecchino

warnings: Sexuallity headcannons (my own opinion) and very bad English, mention of yandere actions in arlecchinos part

pronouns: none

1/2

𝑫𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒆

He is... Lets just say a little weird but talks much he will tell you about who he experimented on all night long you wont be able to sleep

If he is tired he gets annoyed easily so dont talk much when hes not in the mood

hes a smart person why should he do what you say? He will command you around

He will 'accidentally' test some of his syringes on you when your sleeping

He wont have much time to spend with you he has to work on his experiments! Nothing is more important then his job

If your to lonely he will send on of his clones to cuddle with you while he can work without feeling bad for not spending time with you

He is totally against kids why should he raise some idiots that will be disrespectful when they grow up?

Im pretty sure that when he ever has free time he wont tell you how much he loves you but will show you how much he loves you

If he hugs you his hands will be placed on your waist if he has time to touch you he will touch you

He will give you everything you want (no child) not personally of course he has to work so a clone will do that for him

possible Sexuallity: confusing me as much as kazuha. _.

His love language is probably: physical touch

𝑷𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆

Hes tthe richest harbinger of all he will get you whatever you want it doesn't matter how much it costs everything for his love

He is working must of the time so he will send you little gifts

If he ever has free time he will probably go out with you doing whatever you want shopping or going to a restaurant he doesn't care he will go there with you

He would probably buy you a kitty or a puppy against the boredom when hes working

Buy you every type of clothing you want it doesn't matter to him how much it costs he has the big money

Hes not completely against kids but he's working to much to help you raising them and giving up his job is no option so think about it

He wont have much time to spend with you but he will feel bad leaving you alone all the time

As long as your safe everything is alright so he doesn't have to worry

If he comes back from work he will always have a gift for you and the hours you've waited

If he hugs your he wil lay you on his chest and just stroke your hair talking until you sleep

Possible Sexuallity: bi sexual

His love language is probably: gifts and words of affirmation

𝑪𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒆/𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒂

Here we go with our all loved ed sheeran also known as tartaglia he is joking around like a little kid he loves you more then everything in this world

He is definitely not the smartest of the harbingers after all he is the 11th fatui harbinger the weakest and the dumbest? Im not calling him dumb im just not calling him smart

He is a harbinger he has practically no time like the other ones T-T

But i swear to you if he has a free day he will attack you with affection cuddling you for hours and telling you how much he loves you not letting go until he has to work again

If none of his fellow harbingers are near he will talk about his brother and his sister while holding you in his arms

He will hold you by your waist having his chin on your shoulder whispering into your ear how much he loves you

He will Probably never tell you what things he has done because hes scared that you will hate him for the bad things hes done

He wants kids! 100% he just wants to see mini versions of you running around (if your male just adopted or just think in omega verse:D)

His sexuallity is probably: im not sure... Bi or pan?

His love language is probably: physical touch and gifts

𝑨𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒐

There wwe go with or harbinger mommy shes not only sexy but overall just the perfect definition of toxic<3 but we still love her and she loves you too!

She's VERY possessive and if i say VERY I MEAN VERY she gets jealous by having you just talk to someone else thats not her your hers after all

Shes cold... Not only are her hands cold but shes just someone who barely shows emotions but no worries! She still loves you

If she comes home its late and your probably already asleep but she just cant help but lean your head against her chest when she lays down beside you she just wants to have her lover close!

If you disobey her your probably getting locked into your room to keep you away fron the 'danger' outside

The only person she trusts you with is herself obviously shes the one she can trust the most shes a father! She knows what she's doing

When ttalking about kids shes neutral... Just keep the screaming thing away... But at the same time its hers and it needs protection and care

Shes not talkative so dont annoy her to much!

Her sexuallity is probably: i would actually say shes a lesbian._. But for the more judgmental audience i say bi

Her love language is probably: acts of service

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heizours · 2 years

Text

KISS IT BETTER

summary. the greatest lengths, that he is willing to do for you

tags. gn! reader, grammatical mistakes may occur

cw. scara's leak voicelines regarding ei, implied torture in dottore's part, kaeya lore spoilers (?), just those and over all a pure fluff abt what are this genshin men willing to do for you <3

feat. childe, albedo, pantalone, ayato, kaeya, scaramouche, dottore, diluc, zhongli, kazuha, cyno

CHILDE ── he never stops talking about you in front of his family. everytime he comes home to them, he would start going on and on about how such an amazing and loving significant other you are, and his family didn't have the heart to interrupt him because every word and confession that leaves from his lips, are all genuine and pure from his heart. the only way you will find out about this, is when he brings you to meet them for the first time, and in an instant his parents and his siblings are all smitten by you.

ALBEDO ── he has a journal dedicated to you, consisting of the little things and habits about you, when is your birthday, what are your likes and dislikes, the date of your anniversary, the promises he had noted while being in a relationship with you, such memories that he managed to capture and so on. sometimes, it would come to a point where he's starting to not mind of reading every single page of the book, over and over again - if you ever catch him doing it, he will just swiftly reply "well, i just find this more interesting and eye catching. do you want to read it with me?."

PANTALONE ── he spends all his fortune on you, whenever the both of you are out on dates and something catches your eye for more than 0.1 second, that product is in your hands in an instant. you, at least tried to tell him to lessen down his habit of buying everything for you when he almost bought a whole island meant for you, but all he ever tells you is "what should i do with this mora then? darling, this fortune isn't worthy to me when i have someone as you."

AYATO ── he will boldly break and reject countless arrange marriages for you. sure, it is his obligation to get married, but to be paired with someone he couldn’t see as his significant other? he would rather dispose it, than let his marriage suffer just like how his childhood was. why would he look for more if he has someone as perfect as you? if they prefer to not listen to his pleas, then so be it. he would cross that line for you, even if it takes for some of the citizens to turn their backs on him - after all, it’s you and him against the world. yes? right.

KAEYA ── he will always choose you, over both mondstadt and khaenri'ah without a single hesitation. sometimes, he just couldn't handle the pressure in his shoulders, that there will come a time that he will have to choose between his homeland and the nation he had considered where he lived in - that is until he met you. suddenly, his whole perspective of life changes and his mind was now unexpectedly on set. he had decided - if he can run away, then he would, with you and would live in a far away land where only the two of you would live in it and grow old together.

SCARAMOUCHE ── he is willing to change himself for you, to the point that he would take the risk to reset himself. resetting himself, where he would be back to his old wandering self again after being told to roam around, as free as he wishes like how his creator and mother told him. if he is going to do that, then he doesn't mind one bit - if it means that he's going to be destined to meet you again, but this time under normal circumstances.

DOTTORE ── he orders his clones to always keep an eye on you. knowing that he is always hibernating in his lab doing who knows what, he can't always be by your side all the time. if ever danger comes to you, that is too close from his liking, he would not hesitate to order his clones to protect you from it, and bring the said danger to him in an instant, who even had the audacity to lay a single finger on you. maybe, they would be the perfect test subjects for this mind blowing experiment he had decided to work on?

DILUC ── he would ask your parents' consent first before courting you, and he is more than prepared to prove himself worthy of being titled as your lover. he would also proclaim that you also do not have to rush yourself in answering him, he is willing to wait even if it takes forever. because if he could? then he would.

ZHONGLI ── he can give you the 5 love languages. words of affirmation? you bet, he's going to put a whole power point presentation on why he loves you so much. physical touch? he can be not clingy at all times, but expect lingering and soft touches with him every now and then. receiving gifts? he keeps every single gift you are giving him, whether it's considered to be given on a special or an ordinary day. quality time? this man is fit to be a househusband, he's going to give you all the quality time that you need when you are in need of one. acts of service? he's a gentlemen, and you bet he won't let you lift a finger.

KAZUHA ── he will not raise his voice at you when the both of you, are in an argument. he would scold you, but in a calm, gentle and soft spoken manner - and the respect and love for you is still there. he would point what was your mistake in that certain situation, but would also make sure that every word that comes out from him, wouldn't struck a nerve in your side or would do anything to make you more upset than it is.

CYNO ── he will take some time to explain what does his jokes mean. for other people, he just complains about how they can't understand the jokes that comes out from him, but for you? he'll spend hours and hours just so you can get it. and if he makes you smile or laugh in the slightest because of it? it miraculously cures the tiredness that he had endured all day long.

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genshin-side-piece · 1 year

Text

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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localplaguenurse · 22 days

Text

I feel like Pantalone would be so matter of fact and even casual when he proposes. You'll just have a conversation with him about your relationship ideals, and make a remark about how some day, you'd like to get married.

"So let's do that," he says.

"Do what?"

"Get married. If that's what you want, why don't we do it?"

"... Are you serious?"

He smiles. "If you want, I can take us to the courthouse to get the paperwork ready first thing tomorrow. That is, unless you want a wedding as well? That will take some time to arrange, but I'm sure I've got enough connections to make it happen."

You stammer a little bit. "W-Wait, just like that? That's all?"

"I don't care much for beating around the bush," he says, "I love you, you love me, you want to get married, and I have the resources to make it happen. So let's get married."

Despite his rather unceremonious, almost business casual proposal, and regardless of if you simply sign some papers at the courthouse or have a large lavish wedding, that man is barely holding it together. He may look put together, but he's a walking pile of mush at the mere thought you would even consider marrying him. You cannot fathom how much willpower it took for him to not immediately melt at your acceptance of his proposal.

#pantalone #pantalone x reader #pantalone headcanons #i might put a pin in this and write a longer fic #idk i have wedding fluff pants on the brain #forgive me for i am merely a man starving for crumbs

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azullumi · 1 year

Text

summary — all the gestures and way of love shared by either you two.

characters — wanderer, kaveh, and pantalone (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, established relationship ; headcanons

words — 1040

notes — im not sure if i have already done something similar to this but anyways pantalone :DD

WANDERER

Wanderer has met kindness in different forms, one or maybe more in each name he takes and this time, kindness and forgiveness was in the form of you with your tender touches and soft kisses on him.

Gentleness and affection was in the form of you, given through the touch of your fingertips and the caress of your lips on his, fondness and passion was in the form of him, shared through his rough words that disguises his intimate feelings for you and lingering touches that ghosts over your skin—you mend the shattered pieces of himself with the loving and quiet work of your hands.

He likes the peaceful moments he spends with you. There's no words being shared and only just the roaming touches that persist on the skin of one another, accompanied by the soft and gentle breathing or the low chuckles when the lurking caresses gets ticklish as it grazes over a spot that emits a laugh out of you—he likes hearing your laughter and giggles especially when he's the cause of it, he just adores the sound so much.

Has he ever told you about how much he loves the feeling of your skin underneath the tip of his fingers? Thus the reason why he always takes the chance to hold you, to feel you, and everything. His skin always seeks out yours, desiring to make contact as much as he can. Perhaps, even if your body was laced with poison, he would still choose to touch it because what even is death if he couldn't get to touch you anymore?

He adores and craves the quiet love the two have—the moments wherein he listens to your heartbeat as he lays his head on your chest and you cradle him, the times where he gets to wake up in the morning to the sight of you, those instants of sharing a cup of his favorite tea in the morning with you and a cold drink in a hot afternoon, everything that seems so serene and peaceful but speaks so loudly in intimacy and affection.

KAVEH

Affectionate gestures are something that he's familiar with especially when he's known to shower you with it, mostly in the form of actions.

Back hugs are something that commonly happens between you two, often with him the first one to be initiating it which leads to him surprising you with the wrapping of his arms around your waist. If it's you doing it, however, he would definitely love it—if you were facing him at that moment, you'll be able to see the huge grin that is being worn by his lips.

There's just so many hugs being shared between you two, it's not limited to only just cuddling or back hugs. When you're busy doing something and he's just there? He'll pull you into an embrace, snaking his hands around you as he lays his head on your shoulder—he occasionally does this when you're doing some work in the kitchen like cooking or washing the dishes (instead of lending a hand to help). He likes to hug you as soon as he comes home and sees you and you'll often complain that he's sweaty or it's hot which urges him to pull you in a much tighter and closer embrace.

There's a long list of things that he would do to you and for you—he'll hold your hand while you two are taking a walk, he'll make you gifts and puts so much effort in it in hopes that you'll love it, he'll finish the work that you left off and massage your shoulders whenever you're tired, he will hold you always and every time especially when you're asleep, and a lot more of it just to show you that you're special to him and he loves you.

He loves you harder than anybody ever could, comparing other people's adoration for you will only be a droplet to the ocean of his affection that he holds—just his actions and words are not enough to tell how much he feels for you and perhaps, he might spend his whole life adoring you in his arms and it wouldn't even be enough.

PANTALONE

Pantalone sure does know how to love and knows how to show it to you—and he definitely does shower you with it, whether it's through his own words or by his actions. He has quite a variety of ways in showing how much he loves you and would go through such lengths to do so.

He adorns you with all kinds of jewelry, loving the way you look with all the glimmering and shining jewels and gems that are being worn across your skin. He often comes home with a lot of gifts in hand with the amount depending on how long he's been away—if he's been gone for too long, expect to have so much that it could fill an entire room but even if it's only a short time, there's still so much of it—he just loves to buy different and many kind of things, thinking that you might like it.

Nights with him are sometimes shared in warm and intimate cuddling with whispers of words being shared between you, otherwise, it's underneath the sheets while breathing heavily and chasing after one's lips—occasionally it's both, it all just depends on the mood, the atmosphere, and the energy between you two.

He loves having his lips all over your body, tracing and drawing on your skin, murmuring sweet words of affection, wishing that it will reach your ears and remain in your mind. He kisses you before he leaves and once he comes back, his lips touch you when you both lay in bed or when you're spending another time in each other's embrace, he does it in every moment that he can.

His love for you is overwhelming, literally. If his feelings are water and you are the cup being poured on, it will be overflowing, spilling and flooding, but honestly, that's just how he is. After all, you are the poetry that lives, not only in his head but in his entire being, the words that form the poem in his thoughts and the one who comes to his mind when he thinks of home.

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deathbysnakes · 1 year

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You Collapse infront of Pantalone

Pantalone x reader (Romantic)

Warnings:Mentions of blood, swearing

Pronouns used:You/your (for reader) He/him (for Pantalone)

Hurt/comfort/fluff

Explanation:You've been overworking yourself lately and you've been get frequent headaches but you ignored them wich lead to you collapsing infront of your lover

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

You were working on some paper work in your office and Pantalone was sitting on the couch. "I can get one of my servants to do that paperwork for you you know?" Pantalone said. "It doesn't work like that love." You said while you turned to face him. "You've been overworking yourself lately, I'm just trying to take care off you." Pantalone said in a sad tone of voice, he had a sad look on his face. You sighed and turned back to your paper work. "I'm almost done don't worry." Pantalone lowered his head. "It's 12:42 pm." He whispered loud enough for you to hear. "You know, you can go to bed if you want to." You said. "I've adapted to sleeping with you to the point where it's hard to sleep without you." He turned his head back to you. You sighed defeat, while this paper work was important you still had two more days left to turn it in, plus you where almost done. "Alright, I'll get in bed with you." Pantalone smiled at your response and got up from the couch to what for you.

You got up from where you where sitting from and pushed the chair back under the set, you turned around when suddenly you felt pain in your head and you collapsed on the floor "[Name]!" Pantalone shouted as he rushed over to you. Your nose stared bleeding and this only sent Pantalone in more of a panic, he picked up your body and slammed the doors of your office open and started making demands to all of his servants as he rushed you to you two's bed. "Dear can you hear me? I'm sorry for yelling back there" he said while pressing a white cloth that one of his servants handed to him to your nose. "I'm fine..." you groaned while pressing one off your hands to your head. This made Pantalone frown more, he removed your hand from your head and replaced it with a wet cloth. "You collapsed infront of me, your nose is bleeding and you have a headache, you're not fine." He said while taking of his jacket and handing it to a maid who quickly put it on the coat hanger inside of you two's room. Pantalone was trying to stay calm but in reality he was panicking and wondering if you're dying wich you obviously weren't. "When was the last time you drink any water?" Pantalone asked. "Uh...I don't know." You respond while avoiding eye contact. "Fetch me some water, now." He hissed to the maid in the door way, she immediately ran off and quickly returned with a glass of water handing it to Pantalone who immediately handed it to you. "Please drink." He said in a gentle tone. You didn't want to make your husband worry anymore so you drank the water and handed it back to the maid who ran off again. Pantalone back turned to you. "Promise me you won't overwork yourself again love." Pantalone said while caressing your cheek, you lend into his touch and placed your hand above his. "I promise." You said. Pantalone smiled softly and leaned in to give a kiss. "Thank you." He whispered as you drifted off to sleep.

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viviennevermillion · 1 year

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With an asexual s/o

notes: just some self-indulgent headcanons. i don't think this is going to get a lot of notes but the ace community deserves more content.

contains: character x gn!reader, qpr in alhaithams part, the plot twist here is that the characters in question are also on the ace-spectrum

characters included: alhaitham, diluc, pantalone

warnings: mentions of sex in the context of being asexual, hints at harassment and a bit of violence in pantalone's part (not towards the reader)

aphobes, dc creators and consumers dni

Alhaitham

Let's be real here, Alhaitham as a kid took one look at romance and sexual relations and decided that he'd have a better time with a good book and a research trip to the desert. "You'll change your mind when you get older", they said to him. And then he didn't. And everytime someone brings that up he's kinda smug about it, in a told you so kinda way. Alhaitham always knew what he wanted and didn't want and people thinking they knew better was a hassle for him he'd rather not bother with.

Alhaitham is aware of the term asexual and that he falls under it by definition but he doesn't really care for putting labels on himself as he sees no necessity to find ways to explain and define himself to people. The only time he actively labels himself as asexual is when you come out to him to make things easier for you.

Alhaitham would be considered quoiromantic; he's not sure if what he feels is romantic attraction but the concept of romantic attraction also doesn't have much significance to him.

You don't get together with Alhaitham by asking him out and going on dates with him. Your bond just kinda happens. You spend a significant amount of time in each other's presence and Alhaitham finds that he quite enjoys your company. As you become closer, he notices he looks forward to talking to you everyday; to even engage in some playful banter with you. He can talk to you about all sorts of topics and your relationship just has this feel of mutual comfort to it. You can just idly sit next to each other and exchange a couple of words and somehow people can always tell you two are close. He's clearly looking out for you and you're very considerate of his habits and preferences. You're always each other's first choice for anything, whether it's spending your freetime together, seeking advice or working on something together. Alhaitham seems more at peace and happier when he's with you and so do you.

Several people had asked you whether you two were dating or just friends and feeling unsure of where you stood with him, you decided to talk to him about it. "And why would we need to put a label on it, hmm?", he asks and wraps an arm around you affectionately, "so people can put us into categories to ease their own confusion because they struggle to clearly define our bond?"

Alhaitham thought you might have romantic feelings for him and he was half-prepared for holding you a lecture on alterous attraction and how he doesn't experience attraction and relationships the same way most people do. When you come out to him as asexual he's like "god you're making this so much easier for me."

Alhaitham reassures you that he cares deeply about you and he'd like to keep you close to him as you already were. From that moment on, Alhaitham calls you his partner and you call him that too. What that entails? No one's business.

Alhaitham doesn't often initiate physical affection but he does a lot of idle motions like putting an arm around you when you sit down next to him or leaning his head against your shoulder when he's laying next to you and reading his book. He doesn't mind if you want to kiss or cuddle though.

It's clear as day to anyone who knows you that you two love each other even if they can't exactly define what you have as either friendship or romance.

Diluc

Lisa was the one person who started off teasing Diluc a little about having so many admirers and asking him "aren't you interested in any of them?" but she also was the first to notice Diluc was probably ace before Diluc himself even noticed he worked differently than most people around him.

But oh Diluc noticed, even if he didn't have a label to put on it before he met you. He always felt a little uneasy when the topic came up because he just knew it'd result in people asking questions and him not having an answer nor particularly wanting to answer them.

By the time he met you Diluc had become quite the expert in turning people down but the more time he spent with you, the more he noticed that he didn't want to turn you down. And that this time would probably result in you turning him down. Oh how wrong he was.

He could tell you liked him as time went on but he was hesitant about taking the next step because he feared you might, by convention, expect things from him he couldn't give you. And you felt the same way. So the two of you grew gradually closer, even flirting with each other on rare occasion, all while actively dancing around the confrontation because neither of you had an idea how to address the subject

You're the one who eventually tells him how you feel and comes out to him. Diluc asks a couple of questions and listens attentively as you explain asexuality to him. Then goes: "Oh, so there is a word for it.."

You felt really relieved to hear that Diluc felt the same as you did and that you helped him make sense of his experiences. He confessed to you that for a while he was worried that there might just be something wrong with him and that he's happy that's not the case and that he gets to be with you, someone who understands him and can relate.

He has a long conversation with you about your shared experiences because this is the first time he could talk with someone else about this without being at least partially dismissed. He also talks about your boundaries with you and his as well to make sure neither of you makes the other uncomfortable with something.

After the talk Diluc feels a little exhausted because even though it was relieving and enlightening, it was also stressful and made him feel a little anxious, given that you were talking about something he mostly kept to himself up to this point.

He asks if he can kiss you and if you say yes, he leans over and kisses you softly, letting you bury your fingers in his hair. His kiss is hesitant at first but he gets more passionate with time, smiling into the kiss when he notices this is actually happening. That you accept him the way he is and love him and are kissing him.

He lets you stay with him for the night, holding you protectively against his chest.

Pantalone

Painfully aware of the fact that he's on the ace-spectrum because the rich people he scams for his plans tend to get really good at oversharing about their sexual preferences after enough wine at the banquets. The alcohol is a double-edged sword because it sometimes works in his favor since he can find out people's weak points but it's also an easy spiral into "too much information, didn't need to know this"

Several of his business partners have tried to pressure him to join them in their endeavors because they "know a club in some fairly unknown alley" or have encouraged him to "hit someone up", which he always refused. Which is what bred the joke in those circles that the only thing that man is attracted to is cold hard cash.

He had many people who tried to make advances towards him, some because they were after his money and some because he was conventionally attractive. Quite a few entitled nobles had a tendency to mistake his mischievous and suave demeanor as him being flirty when really he was just scheming how to bleed them dry of all the money they have 💀

Some of them just wouldn't take "no thank you I'm not interested" as an answer, insisting they could change that. Most of them he just shooed away. Two or three ended up with some broken bones because they took it a step too far.

Pantalone has seen some shit and been through a lot and he hasn't been given physical affection in over a literal decade so he's actually fairly hesitant and receiving affection from you and he needs to warm up a bit to the idea of being kissed and held.

When you tell him you're asexual he's like "oh thank god, me too."

He always asks before he initiates any new physical contact or kisses you in a place he hasn't before to make sure to not overstep any of your boundaries. After all, he's receiving the patience from you he craved but most people wouldn't have given him.

He's pretty sex-repulsed because he spent too much time around the worst kind of people for the sake of harbinger business.

He's clingy and extremely gentle with you in private and will love you with all his heart but if anyone dares to give you shit over your asexuality or bothers you they'll receive the iciest death glare that banker is capable of. The one more step and you're a dead man kinda expression.

He'll smile and go "My, my, it sounds like you had quite the exciting day, my friend" at some rich, slightly intoxicated merchant making small talk with him at a gathering and telling Pantalone about all his pursuits of women and his affairs in detail but the second that person is out of sight, Pantalone's face falls and he looks at you with an "I'm done" expression. "I don't want to be here", he says dryly and you suggest to get another mousse au chocolat from the buffet and share it with him. "Yeah, let's", he takes your hand and glances at the guy who talked to him just now, "once I have his cash I'll buy you something nice from it." "Not this again, Pantalone." He gently kisses your lips. "See it as compensation for the emotional damage this conversation gave us."

Over the course of your relationship Pantalone finds out he's actually demisexual but that doesn't change anything between the two of you either. He adapts to you with ease, no matter what your boundaries are.

author's note: tagging @k-zu because he wanted to be tagged! ✨

#alhaitham x reader #pantalone x reader #diluc x reader #al haitham x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin impact #pantalone headcanons #pantalone x you #diluc x you #alhaitham x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons

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angelltheninth · 20 days

Note

you are my favorite writer here and i am in need of some embarrassing fluff, so could i request some pre-relationship stage hqs with Xiao, Al-Haitham and Pantalone 🙏💚

Fluff is never embarrassing. That's a lie.

Pairing: Xiao, Pantalone, Al-Haitham x Reader

Tags: fluff, developing relationship, secret crushes, pining, being protective, jealousy, co-workers, teasing, power imbalance

A/N: No one talks about the pre-relationship stuff enough.

Xiao pines over you without ever planning on confessing. What would be the point when you are world's apart? It would only make him hurt again. Yet he can't stay away from you no matter how much he tries, he is drawn to you by fate, destined to be yours and his. He wants a future with you, but he's also very scared of it. It has to be worth it in the end doesn't it? No matter how much time he has with you he will cherish it.

Pantalone is your boss so he thinks your flirting is a bit out of line. Or so he keeps saying but he never actually said he doesn't enjoy it, your words of flattery, your not so subtle lingering eyes. If he catches onto these then so do the others, you best be careful. He can't protect you from everything, despite the urge to. Valuables and money are his area of expertise and what is more valuable then someone's trust, loyalty and love? Those have made people do great and terrible things in the past.

Al-Haitham can't keep his frown off his face when you bring lunch but it's not just for him, it's for everyone. Here he was, looking forward to a lunch date with you. There's always next time, or is there? You seem a bit dense, not picking up on his blatant flirting. But you seem very happy to giggle when other men flirt with you. If he didn't know better he would think you're trying to make him jealous. And then turning around and kissing only him on the cheek like it's no big deal. Oh, it's on.

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capriciousleo · 5 months

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Hello everyone I return with a random hc of mine that is:

Pantalone does not particularly want kids. They do not invoke a mellow feeling inside of him, they do not make a genuine smile appear on his face, they do not warm his heart. HOWEVER, he will agree to have a kid or two only for the role of successors to his business, his empire. If his s/o asks him to have kids together, he will outright decline it. But, if the s/o formulates it as having successors to his empire, he might consider it 😌

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin headcanons #pantalone hcs #fatui pantalone #pantalone headcanons #pantalone x y/n #genshin pantalone #pantalone thirst #regrator #fatui harbingers #genshin fatui #pantalone #pantalone smut

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archonsoflove · 10 months

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his love language | part 4

featuring: pantalone, baizhu x gender neutral! reader

content warning: slightly suggestive?

{gift receiving}

Having a partner with poor taste would have been a terrible blow to Pantalone’s reputation. But it seems having found himself in a relationship with you – from a humble family merchant background – has proven his prejudices wrong. While you aren’t as well versed as him in the arts and fineries of the higher living world, you learn quickly and listen, all your attention devoted to him.

And now, years later, finding a few more streaks of grey in lilac shocks nestled in black hair, you have learnt to read him like a book. Fine teas from Sumeru are brought home after visiting family, soothing incense and spice fill the empty corners of the home you share together.

When the wealthiest man in Teyvat could have anything he desires at the snap of a finger, what could you possibly give him that he hasn’t procured already?

The companionship and warmth you have brought into his once isolative and dull life as a businessman has altered his perception of this world dramatically, and he would go to any lengths needed to keep you safe.

Now, waking up beside you, tangled in mulberry silk sheets, a fine robe whispers across your skin as he moves it away to kiss your bare shoulder softly. Lithe fingers trace over your shoulder, your neck and to your jaw, pausing there to admire you stir in your sleep.

Watching the sun fall onto your skin, your hair catching the light as it falls over your face transfixes him into placidity. What more could a man want, when the thing he needed most woke up next to him each morning? He knew he would never find the answer, and quite frankly, he didn’t want to.

•

{words of affirmation}

“You work far too hard.”

This is what you keep telling Baizhu at the end of yet another long week. Haggard, at his wits end and scolded at by Changsheng as he places her down on the comforter next to you on the bed.

“I’ll be in the bathroom,” is all he says over his shoulder, his voice a shell of what it was, energetic and passionate on Mondays and all but lost by Fridays.

You follow him into the adjoining bathroom, smiling softly when you see his shoulders sag in relief. You’d drawn hot water and infused it with lavender and silk flower essence beforehand, as you usually did.

“Thank you, my love.”

Every week, you two seem to follow the same routine. You undress, both shedding the weight of the day from your shoulders, the hazy atmosphere in the room slowly but surely seeping into your weary bones. The clawfoot tub isn’t small by any means, but you find it slightly cramped with him between your legs, his back to you.

Gentle hands sweep up his hair into a messy bun once you’re both in, and with silk flower oil cupped in your palms, you gently knead into the sore muscles of his back and up into his neck. He hunches forward, eyes closed, a small sigh of relief escaping past his lips.

“It seems young Hongdou has behaved rather well this week,” you started, voice soft, accompanied by the soft splash of water as Baizhu righted himself.

“As much as she could, considering her endless complaints of bitter medicine,” Baizhu started, a small lilt of frustration in his tone. “But treatment has been curbing her illness quite dramatically as of late.”

“And I hear someone got her to take her medicine on the first try,” a small grin as you gently poked at his shoulder. “You did so well with her this week. In no time, all the other children will stop being so wary of Bubu Pharmacy, I’m sure of it.”

Baizhu chuckled lightly at that, turning his head to the side for you to leave a quick kiss on his cheek.

“It seems enticing them with something sweet doesn’t hurt.”

After long days such as these, he was endlessly grateful to have you at his side. After so many patients, unfortunate diagnoses, and long-term treatment plans, hearing your encouragement at the smallest of victories made him feel just that little bit better. While he tended to focus on the grand scheme of things, you helped reign him back into the present.

MASTERLIST

Who should I do next? Send an ask! 🤍

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valberryelixier · 1 year

Text

Pantalone headcanons

Credit to Chieu.tatami on twitter 💜💜

You and Pantalone were close, close enough to be on talking terms and occassional tea. Maybe you were wrong but you could read through him and his facade, his indifferent attitude and lust for money was but a mask. One to protect himself from things he considers unbeneficial.

But thoughts are not always true afterall, maybe these thoughts were what you wished. When you worked alongst him you started gaining feelings towards him. Of course, you knew it was impossible between him and his job something like romance would never work.

"Ms y/n, Lord Pantalone requests your presence", your assistant said. It snapped you back to reality, what were you even thinking?

You knocked on his office door, money was no problem for you but you certainly were far from equal to him in terms of moras. His office proved so, the grand entrance, a wooden door carved by the finest artist in inazuma, plated with gold and the handle made of pure gold. Not to mention the interior which was luxurious but not overwhelming. It surely showed off his wealth but it wasn't tacky, more so elegant. The intricate carvings on the ceiling and the murals on the windows were just a background that made his wooden desk shine.

His desk was neat, papers stacked accordingly and not a single thing out of place. His smile plastered on his face eternal, he stood up and greeted you, "Well, hello y/n it has certainly been a long time, how was fontaine? You certainly kept me waiting, not replying to my letters" he chuckled.

Arrogant, you thought, but you loved that about him. You stared at him, unintionally but everything about him seemed so intentional from his perfume that smelled woody and the coats he wore made of the finest materials.

"Cat got your tounge?"

Have you been staring too long? You didnt even realize. You couldnt hold this anymore, you needed to do something desperately. Your feelings were overflowing and passion burnt out from your heart. Its no lie that you love him, it wasn't just a crush it was truly love.

"Its hard to be around you when i like you and i know you dont feel the same way", you said meekly. Maybe you shouldnt have, what if it ruined everything you had. Or what if he thought of you as a fool.

"I know darling, don't mistake me for a fool, i see the way you look at me every time" he smiled, but it was a genuine one not just the cunning smile he put on display for business. He was a proud man, he thought he would never say it back so thats all he said.

"You may leave now, if thats all"

What? Was this all a game, a joke to entertain him? He was the one who called you, was this the reason? All sorts of questions rushed to your brain and you wanted to run out, anywhere but near him.

You walked towards the door slowly, hiding how hurt you felt, the fact that he barely acknowledged you and told you to go as if it meant nothing. But something stopped you, maybe he regretted it. Pantalone held your hand in a bruising grip right as you were about to touch the door handle, he stepped closer to you. Enough to feel his warm breath.

"What? You didnt think id let you go so easily wouldnt you?"

He caged you around his arms and helf your waist, he hesitated but soon lust overcame him, his lips nearing towards your own catching it into a deep passionate kiss.

"Open up", he demanded. You slowly opened your mouth to let his tounge explore your mouth. His tounge reached every corner of your mouth while his hands rubbed your hips. The kiss ended with the both of you gasping for air.

He smirked at you, his eyes full of passion still. "Lets continue this elsewhere shal we"

#genshin impact #pantalones #pantalone fluff #pantalone smut #pantalone x reader #pantalone fatui #pantalone headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact fanfics #genshin smut

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honeykaes · 1 year

Text

—𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

✦ yandere!pantalone x reader

✦ w/c: 1.9k

✦ warning: dark content, 18+ content, minors do not interact

✦ disclaimer: gn!reader, yandere, manipulation, financial manipulation, implied stalking, power imbalances, pantalone uses "songbird" "darling" "doll", reader is a jazz singer in fontaine, may not be lore accurate to fontaine/liyue, morax x guizhong stuff,unedited

Your eyes dulled looking at the red curtain hiding your gaze from the audience. The feeling of shame and disappointment rushing through you. Your nails buried into the pulpy flesh on your hands, lips tugging your lip. Oh, how you were tired of the hustle of downtown. The number of people you had seen shooting up in the park you once adored as a child was astounding. People didn’t flinch if they saw a dead body in an alleyway. Your eyes always saw those bloodstains on the concrete walking around in the area—everyone around you so desperate to forget. This place was the no man’s land no hero would come to.

Your hand shifted to the flower in your hair, gripping the plastic tightly. Things didn’t grow in the area anymore—the pollution from Fontaine’s growing industrial movement had tainted the natural life.

You had grown accustomed to the thick smog covering the area, filling your lungs with heavy toxic smoke. It wasn’t as though you could leave anymore—money was tight as it is when it wasn’t being scooped by the club owner you were singing for. It’s not like you could go work for most places anyway claiming people would think its a tourist spot since you’re a foreigner—bullshit like that.

“Hey doll, come on...we’re about to start. Stop daydreaming,” a familiar voice shouted. Your eyes snapped back, turning your head to the pianist. He clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed by your doeful expression. The cracks of his knuckles as he prepared to play caused you to turn back to the opening curtains. Once the curtains were pushed back, the bright spotlight illuminated on your skin.

Watchful eyes, looked upon your form as you steadied your microphone. It was as you expected—low-time criminals and crime bosses. Your eyes even settled by the copious amounts of Fatui in the audience. The foreigners had tried profiting from the slums of Fontaine.

You resisted the spiteful laugh in your chest. You were used to criminals coming in here. All the previous jazz partakers left once the crime edged up and the heroes did nothing about it. If you were being honest with yourself, you would’ve left too if you could.

“You had plenty money, 1922. You let other women make a fool of you…” you sang out to the crowd. You hated the stares—feeling the visitors undress you with your eyes. It was always so intense, never subtle. The intensity burns right through your skin.

“Why don't you do right, like some other men do?” you continued. Your eyes paused staring at two men within the club—a pair of blood-red eyes sneering upon your form, the other filled with an unreadable expression. The man with the amethyst glowing eyes winked, leaning into the table further—a smile creeping on his flawless pale face. Silver-rimmed glinted mischievously at you, his gaze solely on you.

The suit he was wearing told you everything you needed to know about him—he had mora and lots of it. He was a big-time criminal within the area. His associate, with baby blue long wavy hair, skin pale must be as well.

But with the copious amount of Fatui agents in here…it would be reasonable to assume that these two men were their bosses.

Were these the Harbingers that you’d heard about? You had heard the whispers throughout the streets of the Harbingers, so powerful they could rival some archons. No one who the members were or at least remained quiet on the subject. The name brought a chill to anyone within this area. It was said they had some of the most powerful connections—they can do anything, and no one would bat an eye.

“Get out of here, make me some money too,” you sang out. It didn’t matter who they were anyway. You didn’t need to get involved. Why would they be interested in a jazz singer in Fontaine anyway? You continued your song, trying not to feel the gaze of the two men. They felt much more intense than the rest of their eyes. If the patrons’ gazes were considered hot; these two men’s gazes were hellfire itself.

Once you finished your song, a roar of applause echoed through the room. You smiled, waving your hand out pretending as you liked it—pretending that the thrill of music hadn’t died when everything went to shit in this neighborhood. The curtains closed and you sighed, lips immediately formed in a tight line.

You headed to your dressing room and smiled. A glaze lily stood on your vanity mirror—a beautiful symbol of Liyue, whose sweet fragrance wafted through your room. Whenever you sang and returned, it would always be there greeting you. What was the most fascinating part is you could feel the softness of the petals. They were always real, just like your memories told you. You took the plastic rose off placing it beside the lily next to you, gazing at its ethereal beauty.

You’d always admired glaze lilies, hearing the stories of their origins of Liyue. It said that the archon’s beloved admired these flowers before she perished. As beautiful as they were, natural ones in the wild were rare. Liyue locals considered this flower as a symbol of eternal love but an unattainable one.

You suspected someone within the club had been doing this, not a lot of people had access to your dressing room anyway.

“Unattainable love...it doesn’t have to be that way,” you whispered out, petals brushing your lips. You had hoped this admirer was similar to you—dreaming of a different life. It was silly and made you feel like a child, but dreaming about being whisked away by someone you loved always struck a chord with you. It returned the innocence of childhood in your unhappy life.

BOOM

The sudden noise made you gasp, head shooting towards the direction of the noise. Your eyes narrowed towards the wardrobe, walking slowly to it. You weren’t a fool, an animal couldn’t make a noise like that.

“(Y/n)! Hurry up! Your shift is up. The next singer needs the dressing room,” a voice yelled out on the other side of the dressing room door. You sighed shouting a curt apology to the person, walking away from your wardrobe. You grabbed your black coat and covered your tight outfit with the lily in your hands as you walked out.

A cool breeze greeted you, walking into the night. It was relatively quiet out here as opposed to the loud club behind you. A sigh escaped your lips, a puff of visible air floating up. The clicks from your shoes echoed throughout the area, eyes scouring out for anything suspicious in the area. Taking another deep breath, you could feel your anxiety peaking into your system. Did that noise truly startle you that much?

“Well, well. It seems my night is getting better and better. I get to see my lovely little doll,” a deep chuckled echoed. Emerging from the shadows of the alleyway was the man from before, eyes closed to hide that intense look he once shared with you. His hands were placed in his pocket, a smirk dancing on his thin lips. You took a step back, eyebrows furrowing from his confession. He put his hands up, chuckling at your form.

“Aww, aren’t you adorable. Don’t worry...I’m not here to hurt you, I just want to talk to the star of the evening,” he responded. Your breaths began to pick up, shifting your body due to your discomfort. You’re eyes looked toward him, peaking at any sort of way to get out of talking to him. If your suspicions were correct and he was in the League, you were in danger.

“I’m sorry I really need to get home—” The man clicked his tongue, a half-laugh emitting from his lips.

“Ah, ah! In such a rush now? I figured you’d be a lot more respectful than this. I mean trying to anger Harbinger? I wonder how Dottore would react?” the man teased. Your eye blew wide, back straightening. The image of those red eyes reverberated in your mind. Was that him? The man walked closer, the clicks of his boot echoing out. He leaned down, gloved hand gently touching the skin on your face.

You wanted to throw up, you wanted to leave. How was this happening?

“...I thought you wanted to meet, huh? I mean I’ve given you that flower for the past few months, catching all of your shows. To hear you finally wanted to meet me, I mean how could I resist?” he whispered into your ear. A violent surge of disgust and rage surged through you as you pushed him away. He grunted taking a few steps back from your push before laughing. The laugh echoed as he put his hand on his face to try to calm himself.

“I didn’t know you also had a feisty side, doll. And to think, I didn’t think you could get cuter in my eyes,” he chuckled. You clenched your jaw, fist tightly formed in a ball.

“If you ever get close to me, I’m calling the police!” you shouted. The man clicked his tongue once more, playfully rolling his eyes.

“Yes, yes I’m sure they’ll be so eager to help, hm? They are seeing a generous donation from me though,” he cooed. Your scowled faltered as helplessness began settling in.

“Desperate times have fallen over many people in Fontaine. I don’t think even justice and triumph over mora. Besides, I’d hate to start off on a bad foot, you’re going to start seeing a lot more of me; I’m going to be your new boss anyway,” he confessed. All the anger left you, the feeling of fear replacing it. The man grabbed a pipe in his large pocket, as a Fatui agent emerged from the ground lighting the pipe with his glowing delusion. He sucked a breath in with a smile before blowing it out, finally opening his eyes once more as the agent disappeared.

He wasn’t smoking for the fun of it.

He was showing off the power he had over people.

Mora, something the God of Contracts, Morax, created. You wondered if he would care about the corruption that came from commerce. He could have people in the palm of his hands from just how much money he had over them. And now, you’d be no different—singing softly there, hoping he wouldn’t clasp his hands together and finally destroy you.

He took a quick drag of his pipe and exhaled the smoke. He lowered his eyes at you, satisfied by your expression.

“As much as I’d love to continue and spoil you a bit, as I’d love to buy you a new outfit for your show tomorrow…more colleague is probably growing listless in my absence. My best advice for you is never make Dottore wait long, that man has no patience,” he sighed with a chuckle, closing his eyes one more time. The mischief appearance he once had vanished to one of annoyance. He turned his back to you, showing off his long, wavy raven hair.

“My songbird, please refer to me as Pantalone. I expect you to remember it when I see you, again,” he announced. In front of him, a deep purple mist began forming a circle. Pantalone began to walk forward. He turned his head back, flashing a cruel grin before the amethyst mist left entirely.

You stood there alone body shaking. Your knees gave into fear, leaving you crashing onto the concrete sidewalk. You placed your hands onto your trembling face, sweat beginning to develop as tears dripped down your face.

Pantalone was the devil incarnate that you were so seduced by this whole time. You woke up from the innocent fairytale you hoped for, only to remember exactly where you were.

In a nightmarish hellscape.

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